Like an Echo

By Catinca Maria Tripa

Three troubled souls encounter their worst fears, establish relationships, and take on new challenges on their journey to find true happiness and hope. This fictional novel is written from three perspectives.
The story starts off with a horse who gives the reader insight of what it is like to suffer behind the walls of slaughterhouses and auctions. The horse experiences much cruelty and brutality as his hope to remain alive diminishes.
Melanie has every reason to leave her life in the city to move to her fathers farm after dealing with the loss of her two best friends and the unfortunate scandal between her and her cheating boyfriend. On her trip to her fathers farm, she realizes this may be the best decision for her
and she doesnt know that there is a rather big surprise waiting for her when she arrives.
Meanwhile, Jordan lives with her aunt, while dealing with severe depression because of the loss of her mother at birth. Jordan is haunted by the images she manifests of her insane father. The only hope she has left is with Jack, her dearly beloved boyfriend who has his own problems
that require attention, but he puts Jordan before anything else.
Together, these three embark on the journey of their lives. With many twists and turns, this thrilling adventure will show the importance of trust, friendship, honesty and love as Echo, Melanie, and Jordan find peace in one way or another.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514425664

Catinca Maria Tripa

CATINCA MARIA TRIPA is a Canadian author who lives in Mississauga, Ontario where she is currently working on her next novel. She was born in Romania and immigrated to Canada with her family when she was three years old. Catinca has written since she was a child, and always wanted to become an author. She loves reading and has always hoped to publish her own books. Catinca was inspired to write the novel, Like an Echo when she first visited a riding stable and groomed her first horse, Echo. Since that day, she has always felt inspired to write and incorporate the gentle nature of horses in all of her work.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Catinca Maria Tripa.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015918889

ISBN:   Hardcover   978-1-5144-2568-8

   Softcover   978-1-5144-2567-1

   eBook   978-1-5144-2566-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 12/11/2015

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

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Acknowledgements

I could not have written this novel without the ongoing love and support I have received from my friends and family. I would most especially like to thank my publishing consultant, editors and everyone else involved in the publication of my first novel. I am most grateful for my faithful friend, Ariauna Ciavone, who was the first person to have read my manuscript. ‘Like an Echo’ would have still been another document lying around on my computer if it had not been for her. To Ariauna, and the rest of my support system, a thousand thank-yous.

In memory of Echo, who died on November 29th, 2010.

Echo

The hot whip inflicts shards of pain into my dispirited, broken body. I recoil at the immediate sting of a fresh wound—and having experienced this battle innumerable times, I finally let my body collapse to the ground, in ultimate defeat.

My trembling knees give in, sinking to the lifeless, stained grass as the rest of my body follows.

My nostrils flare, spewing hot blood and my vision begins to weaken—although I still sense the lifted dirt beneath the ground, the sound of the rustling trees secluded from this dark place, and the heavy thought that the suffering might actually end soon.

I no longer brace myself when the two-legged moves closer. I lay there silently, waiting for him to finish me. But when he doesn’t, I look back up at him with the little strength I have left. He spits in my face and takes his leave.

Melanie

We set off at a light speed; I am united with my equine partner, unencumbered by all that surrounds us.

I grip my hands tightly on his lengthy, thick mane. Looking forward, I can hardly see the endless fields of tall golden grass.

My horse runs so fast—almost like something is chasing him. I take a close look at his structure beneath me. His dark brown neck bounces forward to the rhythm of his sprinting hooves. There is no saddle under me, only his bare back. I can feel the center of my body connect with the motion of his gallop.

I squeeze my legs around his figure and feel his lean muscles vibrate under me from pure adrenaline.

He is a beautiful soul with an unpredictable boundary.

Nothing had ever felt this perfect in a while. Of course, a good feeling can’t last forever, and I’m fooled again, by another crazy dream of mine.

Another night goes by like it’s a part of a routine now. It’s too good to be true. I can hardly understand why this horse appears in my dreams. Every night for the past few weeks, this horse snatches me from reality and shows me something more, something better.

I can’t help but admit that I do enjoy when I dream of him. It’s just that I’d like to know more. All he’ll show me is the same golden meadow and the same feeling of flight, which I can’t say I hate, but it makes me shiver under the unbearable thought that this is only a dream. Nothing even close to reality.

I look up and clear my mind. I promise myself I’ll see him again soon. I check the time; it reads five o’clock. I throw my head back into my pillow knowing I can sleep in longer.

Sleep Melanie, I tell myself. Sleep. And if you see him again, don’t wake up. The feeling will be too perfect.

Jordan

I think about death more often than I should. I like the idea of it. I think about how quiet it will be once I am sleeping forever. I think about how I would be still, at last, because lately I’ve been a restless ocean.

I wonder what it would be like if I could just rest.

I don’t know why I get like this, and when I do it scares me. The hairs on my skin rise, and my voice chokes up. I wish these thoughts would stop. Stop comforting me. Stop appearing. I try to escape these taunts, but each night they revisit and sit in the darkest corners of my mind, proposing the sort of death that would take me away the quickest.

A bullet to the head?

A rope to the throat?

A jump into midair, deciding I want to do it all over again before crashing into a shallow troubled river below?

I’ve been waiting for the morning when Cammie rushes into my room in a panic to check for my pulse, unable to find one. Sometimes her ears press against my chest in the middle hours of darkness. Desperately searching for a heartbeat isn’t enough to satisfy her. I’d be a dead one. She’d cry, of course. I’m all she’s got. Well, except for George. But she’ll be happy she’s finally rid of the monster.

I can see it in her eyes all the time: the struggle she faces when she looks at me, knowing I’ve killed her sister, my mother. She tries to love me, I can tell. It just gets too overwhelming for her sometimes, especially when my door is locked and I haven’t spoken for a few days. It is times like that when even Jack can’t approach me.

Jack is the sun and the moon; he is the light and darkness in my life. He sees me in a way that I cannot. I only wish I could do the same.

My father told me the best piece of advice before he left me. He said, Not a damn person in this life is built to support no one but themselves. Means you can’t trust anyone. Not even yourself.

And those words have stuck with me. The cowardly bastard left us when I was too young, and I’m glad that he did. I’ve never hated anyone more than him.

But as much as I hate him, I can’t let go of that one thing he said.

Melanie

After hours of trying to fall asleep, I give up. I’m starting to question if I have insomnia. This repetitive pattern of sleepless nights and dreaming days has really taken a toll on my life.

I gather myself out of bed and tidy my hair before slipping my feet into my house shoes and quietly climbing down the stairs.

In the kitchen, I pour myself a cup of lemon tea and curl up on the couch. I leave my tea to cool down for a bit before carefully sipping the rim of the cup. I turn on the TV and lower the volume as I scan through the channels.

I hear Leslie make her way downstairs. She’s so soft on her feet; her presence is virtually imperceptible. Once she pours herself a cup of tea, she sits next to me on the couch.

It’s nice having my mom around, but I do miss my father, Don. He’s all the way in Tether Ville, a small town outside Ontario. I haven’t seen him in three years because my life is so busy in the city. I often think back to my life growing up, and when I do, I remind myself of all the ways my parents’ marriage couldn’t work out.

Leslie and Don lived two separate lives. Most thought they weren’t meant for each other, but at one point they proved them wrong. While they were victorious in all this—happy on the outside—they were a wreck on the inside. The love they had was worth questioning because you could never tell if they were truly in love. My mother always told me, Some people are meant to fall in love, but not meant to be together, which didn’t make sense to me at the time, considering I was only about eight years old; but now I understand what she meant.

Nervous? Leslie presses her hand calmly on mine, bringing me back to reality.

Sorry?

Are you nervous for your senior year?

No, of course not. It’s just like all other years.

You’re not talking much. Is there something on your mind, love? Her eyes fall on mine like daggers, anticipating an honest reply.

No, Mom. All is well.

We chat a little longer. I wait till she’s finished with her cup. She nods and I get up, taking her cup and piling it with the rest of the dishes in the sink.

I’ve got some-place to be at nine. I’ll be home by four, okay? She kisses my forehead and goes upstairs to prepare herself. I check on her to make sure she’s all the way upstairs before I pull my phone out and dial Austin’s number.

Hello? His voice is raspy like he just woke up.

Hey, it’s me. want to come over?

I hear him softly moan over the phone as he’s a little more awakened now. My lips curve, as the sound of him turns me on.

Okay, babe. I’ll be there, he says. I can sense him smiling, which instantly makes me smile as well.

I patiently wait for Leslie to come downstairs and take her leave. Of course she has to apply and reapply her make up a thousand times over until she gets too upset with it to even care anymore. I observe this and think how alike I truly am to my mother. She finally makes her way down the stairs with her hand buried deep in her bag searching for her ringing cell phone. She pulls it out and holds it close to her ear, pausing at the second-last step of the staircase.

Hello? She then realizes she’s holding the phone upside down. She turns it around and dives into deep talk about business.

Gradually, she begins to make her way out the door. She’s too concentrated in the conversation to be in any kind of haste, occasionally adding an uh-huh or a got it after about each phrase, just tickling my thin patience. I watch her unlock her car and throw herself in. She finally drives out of the driveway and through the intersection.

I check the time: 9:32. Looks like Leslie is convenient on her timing.

I rush upstairs, rinse my mouth, and spray on some sweet perfume. I quickly hop into a flattering tank top and black shorts and pin my dark brown hair up into a tight, messy bun. I add some final touches and patiently wait for Austin to ring the doorbell.

Soon enough, I hear the door-bell ring. I quickly rush downstairs, steadying my pace as I’m seconds away from unlocking the door.

I casually swing the door open. Austin smiles sweetly on the other side of the door frame.

Hey, I say under my breath.

He keeps me from talking any further when he makes his way inside. His lips hastily meet with mine like they belong there. He quietly lifts me up off the ground and shuts the door with his foot. He leads me to the living room couch where we continue making out and taking short breaths of air when it is most needed. His cold hand begins crawling up my shirt. His other curious hand reaches for my waist, pulling me in closer. He dominantly lays over top of me as our lips never part. I put my hands around his burning cheeks and make sure he cannot escape my grasp.

This quickly escalated, I whisper in his ear.

He pulls off my tank top and breathes in deeply. He tosses it across the couch and moves his lips to my abdominal area. He sends shivers down my back when he kisses me softly back up to my covered breasts. I nervously smile looking down at his devious eyes. He reaches his hands down my back until he finds the bra strap. It unhooks. I begin to get very nervous. He’s seen it all before, but I guess it was different without the event of this. I feel him undress my bra. We are so close to it. Both of our underwear still need to be removed from the equation. Austin slowly begins to slip my panties off, inch by inch; until I hear the keys jingle at the front door. Shit!

Austin looks up, and his face flushes. There is not enough time. Leslie walks through the door before I can even react.

Oh in all that is holy and good! Put on some clothes, child! Leslie covers her eyes and grabs what she’s forgotten on the counter.

The reality of the situation is slightly hilarious. I’m tempted to laugh to ease the tension, but instead I hold my hand over my mouth. I look back up at Austin, eyes locked on his, and I see that it’s much more serious than that. His face is pale. I knock Austin off me and cover my top with the pillow closest to me.

Mom—it’s, my words escape me in attempts to defend the situation, but it’s exactly what she thinks is happening.

No, stop. Don’t say anything else, just be safe. I’m leaving now, her eyes are still covered.

Shortly enough, it’s all over. She leaves the house and doesn’t come back for hours as if she thinks we’d get right back at it again after she leaves. Austin and I don’t try anything after that. The concupiscent feeling has fled. Instead, we begin watching cartoons. I look to him and he seems unsatisfied. I try and cheer him up with a cup of coffee, but he refuses.

I have to go now, babe, he says as he kisses my lips.

Wait, I try, but I know the night is over.

I’ll see you at school.

Austin.

Sorry. It’s my mom. She asked me to be home before 11.

But it’s barely 10 o’clock. Stay.

Sorry Mel, it’s something big. I’m sure you can understand, he leaves at that for the night.

Before I know it, he’s already left my house. I curl up on the couch and try to forget about it. Maybe he couldn’t suffer the tension any longer and just had to leave. Either way, I’m sure everything will be better by the time the sun comes up.

Jordan

I miss my mom more and more every day. She’s been gone for sixteen years now. I really do miss her. She passed away shortly after I was born. I don’t know how, though. Cammie never begins to explain to me no matter how many times I ask her. Despite lugging around the same question, of how my mother died, she always replies with the same soft, sullen eyes. It is not uncommon for her to become hesitant whenever I bring up her dead sister. She tries at all costs to avoid those talks. I can sense that she is hiding something from me. Cammie always reminds me of how identical I look to my mother, Audrey. She says it’s the way my honey blonde hair falls along my face, and how my thin lips look just as happy as hers when I smile. She’ll never know how much it truly hurts being reminded of those things.

Jordan! Cammie calls from downstairs.

I gather my thoughts and make my way downstairs, Yeah?

Come down, love, Jack’s here.

My heart bounces at the name as my lips curve.

I arrive at the bottom steps in a hurry. I flash a smile as we lock eyes.

Well, I’ll leave you to it then, Cammie nods. She escorts herself away from us to make a phone call.

Hi, I say.

Hello, beautiful, Jack replies. He leans in to kiss my lips. His eyes burst with a unique color of blue, which makes me irresistibly want him more.

How are you? I ask.

Never better, he grins.

Come, I say, as I grab hold of his gentle hand.

He trails behind me. We make it to my room and he quickly lifts me up off the ground. I panic for a moment, but I warm up to his usual behavior. I let out a quiet laugh as he kisses my neck. He sets me down on my bed and positions himself so that his gaze is locked with mine. I look down and wonder; he’s being too sweet. He’s usually more of a throw-you-on-the-bed-from-across-the-room kind of guy, but today’s he’s different. Something’s up.

Why are you acting like this? I ask.

What do you mean? He relaxes his hand on my blonde locks, clearing them from my face.

I mean, why are you so kind? I mutter, feeling ashamed for asking him that. After everything that we’ve faced, he’s only left to be so kind.

What kind of a question is that, Jay? He kisses my forehead and locks his soft hands with mine.

I look down, Forget it.

Jack and I hang around a little longer until he strictly insists that he must leave at seven, this evening.

I’ll see you tomorrow? I ask.

His arms are around my waist just outside my door. He drops his head and sighs, Jay, I thought I told you, he bluntly replies.

Told me what? I shake my head, trying to remember, but not coming up with anything. He releases himself from me; he’s angry with himself now.

"I’m sorry. Shit, I really didn’t tell you. I thought I did," he rubs his forehead constructing the words in his throat, but not spitting them out.

Tell me what? What’s going on Jack? I begin to worry.

I’m going out of town tonight for the next couple days with my dad. He says he needs help with the shop at the cottage. I don’t know exactly how long I’ll be gone for but I’ll be home as fast as I can—

Wait, you’re going away? I look down and start to feel a little sad.

Just for a little bit, he says.

No, it’s okay, I understand. Enjoy yourself, by all means. I’ll take care of myself. Just please call,

I will, he reassures himself, But you’re mad.

No, of course I’m not mad.

You are—

"—Not," I cut him off implying that I’m not.

I hold his hands and kiss his lips, "I’m not mad," I try again. And this time I mean it.

He softens up and convinces himself to believe