Shattered

By Shelby K. Morrison

What would you sacrifice to learn the truth? When a deadly act of self defense brings college student Alex Bowen suspicious admiration, only a fit of rage can sooth her anger. But when her shattered mirror reveals a hidden room, she never suspects the two incidents could be linked.

Determined to discover the truth behind her spies, Alex finds herself cut off from family and friends and forced to make allies wherever she can find them, all while evading the people who've been spying. It isn't long before Alex questions everything she knows and what she thought coincidence, may be anything but.

Now with her life and sanity on the line, Alex must resist her enemy's mind games if she wants to expose every dark secret. To succumb would result in her true identity being lost forever and countless others suffering the same fate. But to succeed, would shatter everything she knows.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shelby K. Morrison
• Release date: May 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781498994590

Shelby K. Morrison

Shelby K. Morrison is the author of Shattered, devout member of the Pointless Research Addicts support group, and was voted Most Likely to Be President in high school. She believes fiction should be an escape and any great escape involves a world of wonder, characters you wish you knew, and good food. She can usually be found in three places; her office, the couch or....well just those two unless an overcast day calls her out of doors. She has a particular weakness for animals, Studio Ghibli movies, and Flamin' Hot Cheetos (resulting in a frequently stained keyboard). She is not opposed to tokens of appreciation, particularly edible ones. But if you really want to make her smile, drop her a line!

Book preview

SHATTERED

––––––––

Shelby K. Morrison

SHATTERED

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

––––––––

Copyright © 2014 Shelby K. Morrison

Written by Shelby K. Morrison

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author. Inquiries should be emailed to [e-mail].

Editing by Finish-the-Story.com www.finish-the-story.com

Cover by www.Alchemybookcovers.com

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Shattered

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

EPILOGUE

DEDICATION

To my husband, Jeff, thank you for the frequent check-ins when I disappear for hours in my office, the beverage and snack deliveries when I forget to eat, and the constant words of encouragement and honest feedback. You've believed in me from the beginning despite the unreliable career that is writing. I couldn't imagine a more supportive spouse. I love you.

To my brother, Austin, this book would never have been possible without you. Thank you for fanning the flame when novel writing was just a spark of an interest. Thanks for begging to hear the next chapter, providing the positive feedback I needed and making my stories feel like the best ones ever written. (I pinky-promise to finish the old stories.) You gave me the confidence to keep writing. I hope to have more readers like you.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

To my editors at Finish-the-story.com. Thank you.

To my cover designer, Keri, from Alchemybookcovers.com. You did my debut novel justice while also helping me save my pennies. Thanks for offering everything I hoped to find in a cover designer.

To my beta readers: Marla, Alice, Laura, Chandee, Jan, Mary, Pamela, Rachel, Emma, Lorraine, Stacy and Jason, you guys rock! Thank you for pointing out the flaws I didn't see and buffing out the rough edges of my story.

CHAPTER ONE

Perfection is within our grasp, if we only have the courage to take it. - Arthur Townsend, 1945

Alexandra Bowen glanced up from her kneeling position at the masked man's side. His attention and cocked gun was aimed at the cashier. A knife on his belt glinted in the florescent lights overhead. She had to act, had to stop him. Without thinking, she snatched the weapon and plunged it into his side. Deep-red blood gushed around the weapon and down her arm, like sap from a tree.

The man cried out in agony, turned his gun from the cashier, and fired it in her direction. The deafening shot echoed through the empty convenience store.

She threw her body to the side, narrowly avoiding the bullet. A soft moan came from behind her. Oh, no. She looked over her shoulder and found the snowy-haired man, who had been on his knees behind her, on the floor, his argyle sweater quickly reddening from his wound.

The cashier fled the store, chased by another bullet that shattered the glass door.

Alex dropped the knife, leapt to her feet, and lunged toward the weary gunman as he aimed at her chest.  She threw a fist into his hidden face, years of muscle from her daily kickboxing class behind it. He stumbled, and she grabbed the back of his head and slammed him into the counter. Her technique was perfect, despite it being the first time she'd used it outside of class. It was easier than she thought it would be.

He went down, unconscious, his life draining out of him, pooling around her feet. That's a lot of blood. She just wanted to immobilize him and get the gun away. But this...

She was left alone, the silence growing thicker with each passing second.

Even at midnight, the bustle of convenience stores never ceased. Yet tonight was an exception. Outside, no cars guzzled fuel, no usual flock of teens crowded the corner with their skateboards, nothing. Odd.

The strong, metallic odor of blood overwhelmed her nose, churning her stomach and assuring her this was no movie set. The dark red liquid stained her sneakers, filling the cracks of the dirty floor, outlining each greasy tile till it spilled over like a plate in a filling sink.

Two totally different men lay dead at her feet. Both deaths on her hands. The old man, his round spectacles still atop his nose, his white cottony hair in place, wore a peaceful expression despite the red life pooling around him. Her heart ached for him as she guessed at who he had been. But if she hadn't acted, she'd be lying on the floor beside him. This fact offered no comfort.

The other figure was dressed in black, a ski mask covering his face and his shame. She was tempted to lift the disguise but eyed the gun resting a foot from his open hand and decided against it.

The lights flickered, as if reminding her she needed to act. But do what? She had killed the man. The police would want to talk to her. Even as the idea floated through her mind, her acceptance letter to medical school vanished from her future timeline. They'd never let her in with homicide on her record.

She looked at the bodies, looked to the door. The silence crushed her chest, tempting her to flee.  She cursed, flipped open her cell phone, and punched 9-1-1. She'd made a choice, and now she had to live with it. The operator took the information and told her to stay there.

Numb, Alex went to the sink behind the counter and ran her hands under the water. She watched in a haze as the clear water ran red, swirling in the sink. She recalled the speech she had given in Debate that day. The presentation she'd won awards for the last two years in college. Carpe Diem. Could her oration have gotten into her head? Had she given the life lesson one too many times?

The smell of blood forced her from the store. The silence was killing her. She hit a speed dial number and waited for her sleepy best friend to answer.

Christie? It's me. I've just killed a man.

Her friend shrieked. What? Where are you?

Alex relayed what happened as best she could before blue and red lights flashed in the distance.

The cops are here. I'll talk to you later.

Alex, wait—

Alex disconnected the call and stood when the uniformed men approached, weapons drawn, like lions sneaking up on prey.

A portly officer stopped before her, eyes filled with concern. Ms. Bowen? I'd like you to come with me.

CHAPTER TWO

The next two days passed in a blur. Apart from reliving the gruesome scene in her dreams, Alex had slept the entire day after, and Friday she'd mentally checked out of her classes. Never more grateful for a weekend, she sat on the edge of her bed, debating on what she felt up to doing. She'd tried her kickboxing class Friday, channeling her confusion and anger into each uppercut and roundhouse. Kickboxing always worked, sweating out her stress before a test or her guilt about overindulging the night before. But this time, her punches were weak, her kicks halfhearted. The memory played in her mind like a broken projector. The sinking feeling of the knife, the overwhelming smell of blood, the old man's peaceful face, scrubbing her sneakers for hours.

Her best friends since freshmen orientation, Bryce and Christie, had even attempted to cheer her up with their usual Poker Night but were the opposite of helpful. They admired her actions, thinking of her as heroic. They'd told her she should be happy she'd stopped a killer in his tracks. She had preserved her own life. It was self-defense. A natural reaction. A reflex.

But was it? Sure, the cops had let her go, but what now? Was she just supposed to move on? Despite showering half a dozen times since it happened, she still felt dirty.  An oil of guilt seemed to cling to her and no amount of soap could wash it away.

Her father had tried to comfort her, telling her the law was just and she'd feel better when it was all in the past. But for the first time, his words rang hollow. After all, she had killed someone. How would anything ever feel normal?

The shame was driving her crazy. She hadn't been able to look at herself in the mirror since coming home that night. She needed to be punished, needed someone to tell her what she'd done was wrong. Was everyone really okay with her taking someone's life?

She cast a lazy eye to her advanced biology book on her nightstand. She just wanted things to go back to normal, for school to be her priority, for her to be on the same page as her friends. Mostly, she just wanted to understand her own actions. Why had she done it? She couldn't move past this until she understood why. Was she crazy?

Another wave of guilt crashed over her, and her stomach churned. She sprinted to the bathroom and threw up, a cold sweat breaking out on her face. She didn't want to be let off the hook. She didn't want to be admired. She didn't like how easily she had killed a man. She didn't like any of it.

Then another sickening thought hit her—how she'd reacted when it happened. She distinctly remembered being calm, methodical even. With force, but no other thought than the goal at hand. Stopping him. No hesitation. She just did it, as if she were sparring in class.

The cops shouldn't have just let her go, should they? So why had they? Everything about this felt wrong.

Her body heaved again and again, purging itself of the blame, her terrible choice, and anger over not being punished. But most of all, it wanted to rid itself of the misplaced logic, the confidence, and the lack of hesitation in her actions.

When her stomach finally settled, she stood and locked eyes with herself in the mirror above her sink. Her face was pale as parchment. Beads of sweat dripped down her forehead and neck. This is normal. This is what I should have felt right after stabbing that man. Shock or no shock, you don’t feel calm as you end someone's life.

Her gaze drifted to the sink then back up to her reflection. Perhaps that was just you. You're a monster that has no problem killing another person.

She left the bathroom in disgust. She couldn't even look at herself.

She stalked to the living room but was confronted by another mirror. Anger rose like a fever, from her fingertips to her arms, following to her head. Without realizing it, she had made two fists. Her mind filled with self-loathing. She needed to hit something. Yet all she wanted to hit was herself. Her eyes glinted in the mirror.

In an instant, she snatched up the small vase on her coffee table and flung it with all her force against the mirror. Her reflection shattered. In its place, a dark, jagged-edged hole gaped in the wall.

CHAPTER THREE

Alex stared at the silver shards that bedazzled her carpet, each reflecting her bewilderment. She dragged her gaze back to the wall, to the jagged hole.

Every morning, she faced this mirror and got ready for her day. It was bigger than the bathroom one, so she could see her entire outfit before leaving her apartment. She'd practiced her speech in this mirror, talked herself up after a date, psyched herself up before a test. This one piece of reflective glass saw everything.

Now, she found herself peering inside a small room. Not just a hole, but an actual room. It was a normal room. Complete with a steel desk, matching chair, and even a single door leading to places unknown. The desk and chair faced her—the desk connected to the wall she'd just damaged. A two-way mirror.

A room to observe her.

Two possible explanations occurred. Either management didn't know about this room, or they were behind it. She wasn't sure which idea she disliked more.

Then another thought struck—how long had this room existed? How many poker games had its creator spied on? How many days of her walking around naked? The mirror had seen almost everything, and so had whoever sat at that desk.

The question wasn't just who, but why? She didn't consider herself very interesting. Or extra cute for that matter. Dark brown wavy hair and an athletic build. No sultry, ultra-feminine curves, like Christie. She didn't even wear makeup most of the time. She was...normal. Why would someone want to watch her?

She had just begun to inch closer, examining the jagged edges of glass that knew her better than anyone, when a deafening alarm broke the silence.

She snapped her head to her front door as a sharp locking noise sounded. What exactly had locked, she didn’t know. She sniffed for smoke, but then reality slapped her hard. It wasn't a fire alarm. It was because of the broken mirror—it had to be.

Before she could concoct an escape route, a pair of strong hands locked around her torso, pinning her arms at her side. Alex was heaved off her feet, but her kickboxing instincts took over. She slammed a strong elbow into her attacker's stomach. He stumbled, and his hold around her weakened. With the slick moves of a cat, she slipped out of his grasp, faced him, and sent a right hook into his jaw.

The man stumbled to the floor, blood oozing from his lip. She took him in for the first time. He wasn't much older than she, but his gray shirt and trousers were out of place for a college student. Almost like a uniform.

Who are you? What are you doing here? She eyed him, prepared for him to attack at any moment.

You bitch. He licked his lip and lunged at her with the ferocity of a lineman who had no intention of letting the ball get any farther.

He forced Alex to the ground, struggling to keep her still.

She resisted and grunted under his weight until, despite her efforts, he threw a hard fist across her cheek. It stung, fueling her anger. But before she could muster her strength to throw him from her, he withdrew a gun.

The deadly barrel pointed inches from her forehead ceased her flailing. He had her beat.

He bore a bloody smile.

Didn't count on this, did you? You're going to pay for the blood I've lost. He spat a red gob on her beige carpet, a foot from her face.

Despite his cocky smile, his heavy breathing said otherwise of her skills. She took a moment to plan. Then just as he opened his mouth to speak, she rolled over, shifting his weight like tossing a logger. She used her right elbow to throw him completely off. His gun thudded across the room.

She scrambled away and snatched the weapon just as her pursuer grabbed her foot. Alex rolled onto her back, aiming the deadly device at his forehead. Instantly, he released her leg. She didn't bother hiding her grin at her small victory. Slowly, she stood. He remained where he was, glaring icicles at her.

"Didn't count on that, did you?" She enjoyed the narrowing of his eyes as if sheer hatred would slice through her. She'd be damned if this kid would threaten her in her own home.

I'll ask again, who are you?

The man smiled. I'm Gabriel. God's angry.

Oh, we have a jokester. Now what? Don't move.

The man nodded, though his eyes promised revenge and expected her failure. Clambering echoed outside her front door. Help? Before she could get her hopes up, her subdued attacker laughed.

Didn't think I was alone, did you?

Alex surveyed him until she spotted a badge. She bent down and yanked it up, keeping her gun steadily aimed between his narrowed eyes. He opened his mouth again, and she quickly threw a heel into his nose, knocking him out.  A grimace creased her face.  She wasn't fond of hurting people. She wasn't even used to hitting someone without gloves. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and she had a feeling he wouldn't be the last person she'd hit before the day was out.

She turned her attention to the mirror's jagged frame. The tiny room beckoned to her. If she went inside, everything would change. She wouldn't be able to stop until she got to the bottom of who sat behind this mirror and what they wanted from her. Just by looking at the small room, it was evident this wouldn't be easy or safe. 

Angry voices echoed outside her front door. That route was out of the question. So without considering the consequences, she climbed onto her couch and through the frame.

Instant gooseflesh ran along her arms. Why was it so cold? A single glowing cord ran along the edges of the carpeted floor, illuminating the dark area. The room had the appeal of darkness without the inconvenience. It reminded her of the police station's interrogation room she'd sat in not three days ago, but nicer, more...modern? Despite its size, the room felt anything but stuffy, leading her to believe the door out had been opened often and confirming her ugly suspicions that the mirror was, in fact, in use.

She could hear shouting on the other side of the steel door. She had no choice but to go through. But what waited for her on the other side? The solid metal door looked to be a few inches deep. No window or handle. Just a complex locking system comprised of a punch pad, several interlocking bolts, and card slot. Above her, a ventilation system ran along the ceiling. She shook her head. No way would she fit in there no matter what the movies showed.

She swiped the plastic ID badge she'd taken off her intruder down its slot, flung the door open, ready to sprint, but nearly ran into a large figure blocking her way. The man stepped aside as someone shoved her toward him from behind. Apparently, the attackers outside her apartment door had made it through and followed her inside.

The scrawny man who had pushed her held her arms firmly behind her. The larger man plucked her borrowed gun from her hands as if taking it from a child. Fastest. Capture. Ever. She hung her head in shame.

The large man took her by the arm and pulled her toward him, the skinny man releasing her and standing at attention.

I've got her, Chubby said. Go tell Pierce she's been secured and the situation is under control.

Stick-man nodded and took off down a silvery hall.

Chubby squeezed Alex's arm like a vice, leaving no room for struggling.

Get off me, Shrek. Chubby's sweaty odor quickly overwhelmed her senses.  Who the hell are you? What is this place?

He didn't answer. Not that she expected him to come out with everything, but should she not at least try?

His strong fingers gripped her arms, holding her in place. How queer it felt being seized by the wrongdoer. But she didn't struggle. She let her body go soft and limp in his hands. No use wasting energy when she didn't have a plan.

Come with me, he said as if she could object.

He forced Alex to walk.

She cast a gaze around to take in her surroundings as much as possible. Slick silver walls stretched upward, as if made from steel panels. Beneath her feet, hard marble.  To her left was a glass railing. The other side of the glass divider was open to the floor below—a lobby of some sort.

Before she could see any more, the man opened a door and guided her into a shiny stairwell. Chrome railings and similar plated steps, like she pictured homes in the future would have, stretched before her.

Where was she? Was she even still in her apartment building? Her mind raced with possible explanations. She came up empty.

Where are you taking me? She strained her neck to get a look at his face. Maybe she'd get lucky and it would be like in the movies—this beast was a big softy who just needed someone to listen.

The man didn't reply. He continued to half-push her down the stairs.

Strong silent type, huh? I can respect that. They give you this job right out of high school, or did you have to audition? Not many strong guys like you. Bet it was a cakewalk.

No response.

I'm Alex. What's your name?

At her words, the grip on her arms loosened. She summoned all her strength and yanked her arm free, stumbling down a couple stairs. The man frowned and threw out a large hand, but she dodged his grasp. Alex thrust a lightning-fast palm into his nose. A soft crack echoed in the stairwell.

The man moaned as blood gushed from his broken nose. He lunged for her again, but his footing slipped. Before she could move, he fell toward her. She scrambled, taking the stairs two at a time, but she wasn't fast enough.

His body shoved her down the stairwell, with the weight of a bull. Her head smacked against the wall, her arm slung against the metal railing, and her knees knocked against the stairs. They didn't fall long before a landing stopped them. She disentangled herself and, after doing a quick scan for broken bones, ripped open the door marked with a large red G.

To her relief, no guard waited on the other side. A muggy, gray parking garage greeted her and beckoned her to explore. She surveyed the parked vehicles, which reminded her of a military compound. About ten Jeeps. Nothing else. It was then she noticed how loose and free she felt. Oddly comfortable. Alex peered down at her T-shirt and jeans. No T-shirt and jeans?

In their place, an ugly, white, starchy hospital gown hung from her shoulders. It tied at her side, and the hem came to just above her knees. On her feet were little white cotton slippers.

Before she could ponder too much about her sudden change in wardrobe, she heard the stomping of feet in the stairwell behind her. She tried to focus her thoughts on the present and not think about the holes. She couldn't get caught by whoever these people were.

To her right, a car engine rumbled to life, and she dashed to the first row of cars to conceal herself. A dark green Jeep blazed past her. She remained crouched between two more. She cautiously peeked over the cars. She was alone as far as she saw.

In one fluid movement, she stepped onto the rear tire and hoisted herself into the back of the vehicle. She edged down until her nose nearly touched the floor, leaving the back seat still empty. Ruffling the tarp that rested in back as little as possible, she slid under it, making sure she was completely covered. The tarp smelled like dirt and mowed grass. She ducked her nose under her gown to breathe easier. Wherever she was, this was her safest way out. Perhaps her only way out.

Sitting in the cramped area, she realized how much pain she was in. An agonizing headache pounded her skull, and the flesh on her legs and arms ached—she was sure she'd be peppered with bruises.

She had just stopped moving when the door to the stairwell slammed open. She strained to hear any information as to where she was and who she was up against. Several voices echoed in the vast room.

Search the garage. She couldn't have gotten far, a voice said, authoritative and direct. A superior, no doubt.

The marching of footsteps sounded all around the garage, echoing loudly. She remained perfectly still, trying not to move the tarp even an inch. Two sets of footsteps approached.

So she finally got out. I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner, a man said with a chuckle. He sounded carefree, lighthearted even. She took out George somehow. He ain't gonna be happy when he comes to.

Nothing we can't get taken care of in a few hours, the other voice said, annoyed. This is just another security drill, I'm sure. But we better look anyway.

She heard a lighter flick, followed by an exhale of smoke.

Kinda risky, don't ya think? Happy replied. His voice came closer, perhaps only a couple cars away. I mean, why not use any other project to run a drill? Why this one? Isn't this project priority right now?

Search under the cars, inside, behind pillars, everywhere! Boss Man echoed through the garage.

Grumpy sighed deeply. Maybe that's your answer. Steps approached her car. Or maybe it's not a security drill. Maybe it's another test. Maybe they've implemented new features or something?

A hand touched her back. The tarp rustled. This was it. They had her. She had nowhere to run. Outnumbered and lost, she didn't stand a chance. The tarp crinkled under his closing hand.

The heavy stairwell door swung open with a loud creaking noise.

Call it off, boys! an enthusiastic, youthful voice said. Search is over. Bring it in.

But we haven't found 0401, Grumpy said.

He knows. He wants everyone to stop. Meeting upstairs in five minutes. Get a move on, Kid said, and the stairwell door slammed shut.

The guard's hand rose from her back slowly. The two men whose conversation she'd been eavesdropping on said nothing more. Their footsteps receded, joined by the others that had filtered into the garage.

In a matter of seconds, silence again surrounded her. Why had they given up? Who wanted everyone to stop? As much as Alex desperately yearned to know what the meeting in five minutes was about, she didn’t have a chance in hell at not being noticed if she ventured back inside. And this was luck, having her pursuers called back. She wouldn't waste it by getting caught again. She'd have to wait.

0401? The number had almost escaped her. Was that her? She was a number? Alex sighed a stifled breath under the tarp, sweat beginning to collect on her neck. Could it really be a dream? After all, she had no logical explanation for what she'd seen or heard. This was all impossible. It had to be.

Then why did it feel so real?

Well, this is just peachy.

Up until forty-eight hours ago, her life had been normal. And now, here she was. It couldn't be coincidence. The timing was too perfect. First the robber/stabbing, then the room—building—behind the mirror?

Unknown time passed before Alex awoke to the sound of the Jeep door opening. She had almost forgotten where she was until the car shifted as someone climbed in, and the closing door echoed throughout the garage. The heat must have caused her to drift off. Sweat soaked her back. Her damp hair clung to her face and neck, despite being secured in her traditional ponytail. She couldn't breathe. She needed to lift the tarp. 

The Jeep started with a rumble, and the tires propelled it forward. She'd have to wait till it stopped.

It drove for about a minute or so until the peace of the outdoors filled her ears. Sunlight warmed the tarp immediately. Chirping birds sounded above, and a breeze rustled through the trees. She hoped the unpaved road that now rocked her wouldn't last long.

CHAPTER FOUR

The ropes around Ian North's wrists sliced into his flesh. He struggled in the rickety wooden chair, hands secured behind his back, certain

Reviews for Shattered

[broma-3 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Shattered by Shelby Morrison was a good read. The action began on the first page and never let up. I could tell that the author put a lot of thought into the action and wove things together very nicely. There were twists and turns every few pages and at times i found myself going PHEW. There was also suspense from the very first page that was carried on throughout the entire book. The continual suspense and non-stop action was a great combination and made the book hard to put down. The main character, Alex, was a tough, no-nonsense heroine who wasn't afraid to take on anyone. But she also had a softer side, missing her family and friends and not knowing who to trust. I would recommend Shattered by Shelby Morrison to anyone who likes mystery, suspense and non-stop action. I can't remember every reading another book that had as much action, so if you're and action junkee, this is the book for you.

[claireh18 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Alex had always thought that she was just braver than her friends, never imagining the truth behind her lack of fear. She had a great apartment, good friends, a normal life. That is, until the mirror in her bathroom shatters, turning Alex's life upside down and bringing her very existence into question. Confused and vulnerable, Alex seeks to discover the shocking truth.This novel certainly packs a punch. The premise is intriguing, lead character Alex endearing and it held my interest throughout. It's a smart psychological thriller full of drama and intrigue.Although I'd describe this book as well-written, further proofreading and editing would be of benefit. There are several instances where a similar but incorrect word is used, such as 'conscious' in place of 'conscience'. Having said that, I do appreciate that professional proofreading and editing services are expenses that many self-publishers can ill afford.Sincere thanks to Shelby K. Morrison for sharing her novel with me in return for an honest review.3.5/5 stars.

[mary6endersbe · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book is one twist and turn after another. Just when you think you have it figured out, you are thrown another clue to the big picture. Starting out with a huge mind blowing scene, it continues to build from there. If you like conspiracy plots, you will love this one. Once you start, you won't want to put this book down as you will have to know what is truth and what is fiction. Great edge of your seat thriller. Enjoy!