Read Illusions (The Missing #1) Online
Authors: A. M. Irvin
Illusions (The Missing #1)
Reclaiming the Sand Series
Twisted Love Series
Find You in the Dark Series
Cloud Walking
(A Find You in the Dark novella)
Warmth in Ice
(A Find You in the Dark novella)
Bad Rep Series
For all the Noras
Follow the clues and find out more about The Missing by visiting
www.findingnora.blogspot.co.uk
The Song
E
very morning was the same.
I’d curl into a fetal position on my side and try not to think about how the rocks were cutting into my cheek. Or how the dirt was so deep under my nails that the beds were now black.
I didn’t think about how my long, blonde hair was matted and filthy. Or how I stank from not having a shower in so long.
I tried not to gag as the smell of my waste permeated the room, hanging in the air, coating my skin.
These things would have bothered me, once upon a time. Now, they barely registered.
Because all I could think about was
right now
.
In the dark.
In the lonely, empty room.
My steady, beating heart.
The air whooshing in and out of my lungs.
And the
song.
It began as a whistle. High pitched. The most horrible sound I had ever heard. I covered my ears. When that didn’t work, I’d stuff my fingers down deep.
I could still hear it.
The whistle.
I hated it.
It went on and on and on.
And then it would change into something resembling a hum.
Notes up and down. High and low. No words. Just a melody that was both familiar and horrible. It was loud. Too loud for the silence I had grown accustomed to.
Discordant. Out of tune.
Like a piece of music that was meant to be pretty but had gotten twisted up and spit back out.
Like something out of a horror movie.
Then it would stop. And the singing would begin.
And that was worst of all.
Because then I could hear the words. I knew them even if I didn’t know the voice that sang them. I recognized them. I just didn’t know how.
They made me sad. And angry.
Almost crazy . . .
But more horrible than that, I felt love. Deep in my bones. Wrenched from my bleeding heart. It crushed me up into tiny, jagged pieces.
Love.
I felt it.
But I didn’t understand it.
And the words wouldn’t stop. Sung by a voice I desperately wanted to know.
I screamed until my throat was raw and bleeding.
I screamed until I couldn’t scream anymore.
But the song went on.
And on.
And on.
Reminding me of the past.
Withholding the future.
No one will miss the little girl lost . . .
Day 1
The Present
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
B
eep. Beep. Beep.
I was roused out of consciousness.
My head was throbbing, and I was pretty sure that I had bit through my bottom lip. I could taste blood in my mouth. Bitter. Like sucking on a penny.
My throat was dry. I couldn’t swallow no matter how I tried. I had never been so thirsty in my entire life.
I groaned and rolled onto my side, curling my legs into my chest. I was in pain. Serious pain. I ached everywhere. There wasn’t a part of my body that didn’t hurt.
I imagined this was what running into a brick wall at full speed felt like.
I opened my eyes and could make nothing out in the blurred darkness. Light filtered in through a dirty window, but all I could see were shadows.
I touched my face and realized my glasses were gone.
I felt instant, overwhelming panic.
My glasses were gone!
I couldn’t see without them!
I squinted and peered around until my eyes acclimated to the diminished light. But without my glasses, I could make out no discernable features. I knew that I was definitely not in Kansas anymore. I couldn’t figure out exactly where I was.
I slowly sat up and scooted backwards until my back connected with a wall, the solid concrete floor hard underneath me. I let out a tiny scream and quickly covered my mouth—terrified that I’d be heard.
I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes. My head was pounding, making it hard to think.
Where am I?
I shook my head and then groaned at the pain that blossomed and spread out like spiders’ webs. I ran my fingers up the side of my neck and winced at the feel of tender skin.
I opened my eyes as wide as possible, desperate to see.
Needing
it.
Nothing! I can’t see anything!
Where are my glasses?
Crawling on all fours, I swept my hands along the floor hoping they had just fallen from my face.
“Ow!” I gasped, lifting my finger to my mouth. I sucked on the skin. The taste of my blood was becoming a familiar flavor on my tongue.
I gave up my futile search and slowly, not so steadily, got to my feet. I turned in a circle, trying to get a sense of the room I was in.
Where am I?
I couldn’t see. But I could
hear
.
I could
smell
.
And I could
touch
.
I needed to rely on my other senses to get an idea of my surroundings.
I strained my ears and the answering silence was in many ways more terrifying than not being able to see.
Total and absolute quiet.
A void of sound that stretched on and on and on.
But it hadn’t always been still. I seemed to remember a noise. I tried to wrestle it from the depths of an exhausted subconscious. Something on the edges of memory. I tried to remember.
It was gone . . .
Only silence.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, covering my face with my hands, gulping air as fast as I could. My chest heaved, my stomach churned.
I was alone.
Totally and completely alone.
I curled my fingers into claws and dug them into my cheeks, not caring when my nails cut through skin.
I was alone.
It was familiar. It was devastating. Solitude had the power to level me entirely.
Get it together, Nora! This isn’t helping anything!
Shuddering, deep breaths. Placate. Calm.
Okay, there’s no noise. But what can I smell?
I breathed in deep through my nose, holding it in. The musty, foul scent of mildew and rot clung to the back of my throat. I coughed, feeling sick. It smelled like decay. Dying things.