Torn in Two: Cordelia Kelly, #2

By Ryanne Hawk

Let's go back in time and see how Cordelia began...

Every person has emotional wounds, internal scars, and at one time or another, witnessed an event they wished they'd never saw.

These things change us irrevocably.

For Cordelia Kelly, growing up at the mercy of her Dark Empathic father caused her to tear in two when she was sixteen. As she tried to save her mother from his brutal attacks, she unknowingly unleashed her inner duality and now struggles under the weight of who she truly is, and what she's capable of.

This is the beginning.

Torn in Two is a 24 page short story delving into the teenage mind of Cordelia Kelly. The story can stand alone, but is better read after Duality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fused Publishing
• Release date: Nov 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497705302

Book preview

Other titles in the series:

Duality

Torn in Two

Night of the Wolf

Righteous

Copyright © 2015 Ryanne Hawk

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Cover Design: ER Pierce

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Names, characters and incidents depicted in this e-book are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

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Prologue

I woke startled, with the pounding need to hurt something and expend the rush of darkness heating my blood. My fist through a wall or the crack of a glass vase strewn about the room. Maybe I’d hurl rocks at the trees outside. I wanted to run, maim, claw, and cry.

Long buried fears resurfaced in my dream and caused me to bolt awake, trembling and in pain. My heart knocked against my ribs, and my hands were curled into little balls of fury. I frantically tried to brain bleach my thoughts and purge the rolling emotional tide that assaulted my psyche. I scrubbed my palms over my face and untwisted my legs from the soaking wet sheets.

I sat up on the side of the bed and tried to will my racing heart to slow down. The room spun in dizzying circles, and I fought back the waves of disorientation threatening to drown me. It took a few seconds or minutes, could have been an hour with the level of fog holding me hostage, to remember I wasn’t at home in my own cozy bed.

I shook my head to clear the lingering cobwebs, and the realization of my situation slapped me in the face. Some pissed-off and jealous werewolves had trashed my home and forced me to leave my sanctuary. Thanks to them, I was sleeping in a strange hotel. No wonder I had a nightmare; all the scents were different, and there was no