Shades of Grey: Prologue (Book One in the Shades of Grey Series)

By Amanda M. Holt

The world of a prominent Vancouver family is turned upside down when their teenaged daughter vanishes, leaving a cryptic note and her mother's tears behind her.

A visit to the Missing Persons Division creates more questions about Crystal's disappearance than it answers.

When Eve, the older sister of the runaway, begins to experience a familiar rage coursing through her veins, her sanity - and very humanity - are put to the test.

Will she succumb to the seduction of her fury?

Some questions are better left unanswered.

Some doors are better left closed than opened...

Yet the questions about the missing teen need to be asked:

What has happened to Crystal?

Where is she?

Why did she leave?

Who is she with?

Most importantly, when is she coming back?

The truth is more than Eve can bear. Her reality begins to unravel in this, the prolgoue of a five-part series.

Shades of Grey: Prologue
Shades of Grey: Hear No Evil
Shades of Grey: See No Evil
Shades of Grey: Speak No Evil
Shades of Grey: Epilogue

Featuring cover photography by Jimmy Thomas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda M. Holt
• Release date: Apr 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476135236

Amanda M. Holt

Let's see... I was born in Revelstoke, British Columbia. Raised in Small Town, Manitoba and spent my adult life in different Manitoban locales: Dauphin, Ste. Rose du Lac, Ochre River, The Pas, and now - Thompson! I'm the oldest daughter of an oldest daughter. I believe that guns don't kill people: people kill people. I also believe that, contrary to the behavior of the main character in my Shades of Grey Series, people with mental illness are not typically violent (read the statistics, it's true...and besides, if you make it to Book 4 of Shades of Grey, you will be [spoiler alert] wondering if she is ill, or not ill, or...? What the-? I intend to keep you guessing! Until I leave you quivering and satisfied, that is!) I've worked many JOBS over the years, but am now in a CAREER in Health Care that I find very gratifying. That being said, as you would likely hear from any aspiring author, if there comes a day that my first love (writing) enables me to write from day thru night without having to worry about making the rent or putting groceries on the table (anotherwords, a steady writing income), then of course I would consider retirement from my "real world" career. My first and forever true love? Writing! And there is SO much that I want to write about! Working on about seven projects in regular intervals at the moment, plus some novellas and the six completed projects that are in revision/editing...all of which will appear here on Smashwords, if they meet with their (Smashwords') standards for quality that is. At the time of writing this, I am childless (thank Heavens), seeing someone who is very special to me, and I've no pets and no houseplants. I enjoy chocolate, chai tea with a lot of milk, and coffee dolled up the same way. I eat too much ketchup (Heinz, there ain't no other kinds) and not enough sushi... I have more journals than i know what to do with, but they seem to have a starring role in keeping me sane...if not for them, if not for reflecting on my goals and motives fairly regularly, I'm certain that I would have made some very poor choices in bedpartners, purchases, habits and careers. My advice to anyone literate? Journal. Write down your thoughts, goals, aspirations and reflect on them at least once a month. If I am on a track, on a path, it seems to me as though journalling seems to keep me on it. My advice to anyone who wants to write a book? If you can carry on a conversation during a coffee break and tell a well-spun tale or joke, you are entirely capable of writing a book...especially if you have some noteable life experiences to draw from. There's inspiration for that book (or books) all around you. Don't look: SEE!!! And don't procrastinate: DO!!! (Now if I can just follow my own advice :) ). I've had 15+ stories (novellas and full length novels) published at publishers other than Smashwords, but I don't think that it's in good taste to print the names of those companies here, where i'm supposed to be promoting Smashwords novels. Suffice to say, they are small publishing houses, not New York publishing house giants! All that being said, i'll update this if/when anything noteworthy happens in my life. Sincere regards and happy reading! Amanda M. Holt NOTEWORTHY NOTE: All of my titles that were available as Kindle format at Amazon will soon (all) be available here at Smashwords. I just have to hurry up and do the formatting, and ideally they will pass the Smashwords standards review. Thank you for your patience, understanding and support of both my work and my chosen charities, which benefit from a portion of my royalties/sales. Future works will feature donations to other charities near and dear to my heart. Writing has taken a back-seat to other pursuits... will increase writing productivity soon. Sincere regards & happy reading, Amanda M. Holt July, 2013

Book preview

Prologue

May 29 4:48 a.m.

As Crystal Grey stumbled up the stairs of her luxurious Parton Street home, her dazed blue eyes stared forward in profound awe of intricate stained-glass pattern in the window of the front door.

Dude, I am so fucking high right now. She was talking to herself, something she did a lot when she was stoned. Higher than I was last night. And the night before that. And the night before that. And before that. Even higher than I was at the lipstick party. That was an awesome party. I sucked like eight cocks that night.

God, I love sucking dick. I'm so fucking good at it. I win every time. Mauve Passion lip gloss, baby. To her racing mind the calla lily at the center of the stained glass looked like it was opening. It looks like a gaping wide vagina. I'm pretty good at fucking too. My vagina's a fucking flying trapeze.

The floral pattern in the window was moving faster, almost at warp speed, twisting and bending and swirling and winding.

So beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Crystal found herself moved to tears by what she was hallucinating. The colored glass, so animated in the forefront of her mind, was enthralling to say the least. I have to piss so fucking bad, but I just wanna see...

Her neighbour's dog began to bark, the hostile sound making the floral pattern run and jerk with abrupt movements that seemed to ruin the pleasant mosaic effect.

Lame! The teenager bellowed. The dog barked again. Jagged lines cut and marred the floral ballet right before her eyes. She groaned with frustration. Tried to recapture her heights of ecstasy. The barking renewed. Shut the fuck up Mitzy! You're ruining my high!

Now that she had challenged the dog, its barking continued in a near frenzy.

Fuck this. I gotta piss. Crystal gave a sharp laugh. That rhymes! Fuck this, I gotta piss. I was a poet, little did I know it.

She giggled, stared down at her soiled shoes and spent a long moment trying remember what she should be doing next.

Key, thought Crystal finally, within the accelerated daze of her drug cocktail. Magic mushrooms, meth, Extasy and marijuana.

Not bad for a Friday night.

I'm so fucking stoned. More than stoned, tripping fucking balls. Big bouncy blue balls. She dug in her pockets for the key to her home. Nope nope nope. Beyond tripping - fried. Fried like an egg. Like an Easter egg. A kaleidoscope Easter egg. Fried like an egg...

A memory tickled the back of her unfocused mind.

Health class. This is your brain. Vaguely, she remembered a nondescript man in a white lab coat holding up a perfect, round white farm egg. And this is your brain on drugs.

Crack went the egg, spilling out of its broken shell, sizzling as the yolk, surrounded by whitening slime, hit the grease in the cast iron frying pan and sizzled. The nondescript man looked into the videocamera, trying to voice his ‘concern’.

Crystal mimicked the man from memory: Say no to drugs, kids.

No. Crystal giggled, the sound reaching deep within her, more than just a sound – an experience – sensations swirling beneath her skin, nerve endings dancing to the sweet noise of her voice box.

Nononononono. No.

It was easy to say ‘no’.

When you were alone, at least.

But to someone like Adam?

A girl like her just couldn’t say ‘no’ to a man like him.

No.

The message of the 'drug free' campaign was lost on her. Her teeth ground of their own drug induced accord as she turned her attention back on the flowered glass window.

There was another long moment before she again remembered the key was in her back jeans pocket where she had put it for safe-keeping.

Yet another lengthy inner dialogue passed by before she actually retrieved the key, put it in the lock and opened the door.

The security system wailed within heartbeats of the fortified door cracking open.

Shit. She fumbled at the keypad. Her teeth were trying to grind - again! She had forgotten about the alarm - again! What was the secret password? Electric smurfs? Fuzzy bunnies in newspaper airplanes? No - shit no - it had to be numbers, like one, two, three, four-

Crystal!

Her mother’s annoyed call startled her. It reverberated again and again in her fantastical mind, echoing over and over and over... Hearing her own name vibrate through her mind in her mother's very pissed off tone was not a pleasant experience for the young blond.

Evelyn Grey turned on the foyer lights, blinding the drug-riddled teen where she stood, trying to remember the security code.

Hi, mom. Crystal spoke meekly, her greeting barely audible over the earsplitting siren.

Don’t you ‘Hi Mom’ me, young lady. Evelyn was clearly not impressed. Sneaking back in? Although I can hardly call it sneaking when you wake up the whole neighbourhood like this! Yet another night in a long string of late nights and shrieking alarms!

Exhausted but furious, Evelyn punched in the numeric code that would silence the wail!-screech-wail!-screech-screech of the alarm and folded her arms over her chest, her small ears ringing in the quiet that followed.

Well? Where have you been?

Out. Obviously.

It’s way past four in the morning!

I know. What's your point?

What's my point? What's my point? Evelyn was incredulous. I swear to God talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. You have no respect for anyone, do you? Not even for yourself.

Her daughter only caught the last few words of the irate inquiry because she had been watching the brilliantly colored exotic fish in the aquarium in the kitchen and was again enthralled by the fragile and beautiful bounty of nature.

Such color!

Such grace!

If only I could be a fish, she thought. Perfect, like a fish...

If I was a fish, then the worst Adam could do is eat me. But then, I’d have to bite his hook. And there is no way I would ever be stupid enough to take his bait again... He’d have to catch me with a net, then - if he could catch me...Maybe I'd be a fast fish, like a barricuda. Or a shark. Ya, a shark. Then I could