Ren:: Awakened

By Brittany Quagan

Seventeen-year-old Ren Nagel knows that the strange things shes seen are realeven if no one else believes her. But, when she's locked up in a psychiatric hospital; she loses hope that anyone will ever truly be on her side.

Then everything changes. With the help of a new friend, Ren breaks out. It's when she's on the run that she learns who she really is.

Hunted by evil, Ren must learn to control a power she never knew she had, organize a coalition of people she never knew existed, and remind humanity why fighting the darkness is a big part of being human.

Sometimes, feeling different is much more than just a feeling. For Ren, it means the fate of the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Aug 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504362955

Brittany Quagan

Brittany Quagan is just your normal, everyday psychic/medium. Throughout her life, she always knew she wanted to write fiction novels, but never did she expect that the development of her “psychic abilities” would unravel the story that dwelled inside of her. When Brittany isn’t writing books and blogging, she helps others tap into their intuition and empowerment at her business, Journeys: School for the Soul in Connecticut. You can catch her with her ever-changing hair color frequently daydreaming, staring at the moon, and enjoying time with friends, family and nephews.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The Weaver’s Song

Close thy eyes and lend thy ears

And harken to our song

We come to ye to woo thy help

In the mutiny we’r upon

Ere the strife the world now sees

Was’t once filled with pure love

But now our foes have come to fray

We must fight to rise above

We come to those who’re true of heart

Who shalt doeth what is right

To reinstate the peace there was

And fight the dark with light

If thou shalt choose to join our cause

Our deal can’t be undone

Thy lifetimes will be owed to us

Thy cannot try to run

This contract shall be set in stone

And once thou doth agree

We unravel thy fate in canvas

And behold, the Tapestry.

Should thou agree to this endeavor

Heed this warning true

All Karmic debts must still be paid

As you see this through

Just know, each choice, along the way

Through every life thou leads

Shalt determine the fate of thy world

With however the Tapestry reads

We are the Weavers, our voices heard

Our offer has been unfurled,

And now it’s up to thou to choose

If thou shalt change the world.

CHAPTER

One

S OMETIMES I WANT TO SCREAM at the top of my lungs until my voice is completely gone. Or until the pressure blows off my head, whichever comes first. The stress they put on me; I can’t handle it. It just builds and builds, and one day I’m going to POP. It’s even worse when I’m mad. The things that happen … well … I can’t help it; they just do.

You’d probably be just as pissed if you were in my shoes. I mean, do you have any freaking clue what it feels like to have been lied to for your entire life about who—or what—you are? To know that everything you thought was real couldn’t be further from the truth? And still, after everything I’ve learned, the lies keep coming.

I’m supposed to do things … change reality as we know it. But every corner I turn brings me to another obstacle, another lie.

You’d think that asking a simple what or how would get you the answers you need. Not when you’re dealing with these people. They have so much to say, yet they say nothing at all. And you know what? Secrets really piss me off. I know they’re hiding plenty from me.

By the way, I’m Ren. I’d love to have a typical going-off-to-college story with all sorts of teenage, rebellious debauchery. But I don’t. My story isn’t working like that; it never has. I’ve always been different than most. Whatever that means. For me, it means that my life has never been one you could call normal. Some of you can relate, which is great because you’ll be a big help in all of this.

I’ll try to break this down quickly for you so we can get on with the story. A few months ago, my life changed completely. Not that I had some lovely fairytale life to begin with. Life had always been a struggle, but then things got crazy. Things I never thought could—or would—happen, did. And now I, well, we (and by we I mean you and me and the rest of the world) really are smack dab in the middle of mayhem.

Before my life flipped upside down, I couldn’t even walk in public without thinking I was going to die. It didn’t matter where I went or who I was near; my chest would get heavy; I’d sweat bullets and twitch; my heart would race; I couldn’t breathe. Sometimes I’d want to throw up or curl into a ball. Sometimes I’d faint. I didn’t know why it happened. If I tried to explain to anyone, like a doctor, what I experience, they would just tell me I was paranoid or that I had anxiety disorder. Then they’d slap me on meds. It all changed when I met them, though. Everything changed. Because I learned the truth. And now it’s time for you to learn.

Welcome to the story of my life (my lives?) and more than likely, yours too.

Late August

I woke up coated in sweat, my hair caked onto my neck and a blood-curdling scream escaping my lips. My bedroom door flew open as Bobby came barreling in.

Ren, are you alright?

I sat up, trying to catch my breath.

Bad dream again?

I managed a swallow, hoping the saliva would ease the soreness in my throat and buy me enough time to form actual words.

Yeah, I gasped. I’ll be fine.

Okay. Just relax. You’re safe.

As comforting as he tried to be, the expression on his face told me just how worried he was.

He gave me one last searching look before gently pulling my door shut after him. Bobby had been my foster dad since I was 13. I’d been tossed around my entire life because no one knew how to handle me. It wasn’t unusual to hear that the family I was with could no longer care for me. My psychological disposition was draining. My irrational fears of dying and someone trying to kill me were only so tolerable.

Five years with Bobby and he did a pretty decent job. For the most part. I knew in my gut, though, that he would be relieved to get rid of me when I graduated from high school in six months. I think he’d only held onto me because he felt sorry for me. I was pretty pumped to move out and get a place of my own. It sucks feeling uprooted all the time; the constant comings and goings of foster kid life are wearing. As soon as school was over, I’d find a place. It would be mine and only mine. No one could kick me out. I would have a home. Finally.

On this particular night, I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I moved to a place I could always find calm; the roof. I supported my head with my arms and lay back to appreciate the splendor of the starscape. We lived far from the city, so there were few lights to compete with the starlight. Our ranch-style house hid down a quarter mile driveway on a property surrounded by forest. To truly love a place or feel at peace anywhere was uncommon for me. Even being inside my own body made me uncomfortable. But this place, surrounded by nature, birds, wild animals, and the expansive sky, brought me the closest I’d ever been to inner peace.

A faint shuffling from under the trees interrupted my thoughts. I squinted, searching for the slightest movement, but the noises stopped. I waited, not moving a muscle—not even breathing—anticipating whatever was next. Nothing came out of the trees. I took the slightest breath in.

That’s when I felt it. Someone was watching me.

My vision worked double-time combing through the black night. My throat constricted and my heart began hammering in my chest. A breeze passed by, cooling and tickling my face. I knew something—or someone—was out there. I could feel its eyes locked on me. I squinted harder. A figure moved behind the trees.

CRACK. An eruption of bright light hissed behind me as a bolt of electricity suddenly struck from the sky. I tipped to the side, startled, but I was too late to catch myself. My polyester pajama bottoms did nothing for traction and I slid right down the length of the roof. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the snap of my body hitting the concrete walkway, but it never came. I cautiously opened my eyes, expecting my imminent demise, but I was falling in slow motion and landed softly on the ground.

But … how? How was that possible? I jumped to my feet in disbelief and started to panic, working to refocus my brain on what had just happened.

Was I already dead? Is that why I had floated? Did the fall happen sooner than I had thought and here I was, just a spirit lingering outside her body, not even aware that she had died? I circled around, looking for any sign of my body. I felt for my arms, my legs, and my head, just to be sure they were still there. I was all there. In one piece.

I looked up at the roof, trying to rationalize how I could have survived that fall without any damage. How I could have defied time, space, and gravity to still be standing here?

And then I heard it.

A snap from the woods—as if someone stepped on a twig. It startled me back to reality and I ran under the front porch awning thinking it would grant me some protection from the prospective predator. Cold sweat beaded up on my forehead, whirs of dizziness triggering nausea.

The dizzy spell wasn’t passing. I could barely stand, never mind try to get to the front door and inside to safety. Luckily, there was a chair on the porch that was perfect for slumping. I hunched over and tried calming myself down. But between my head feeling as heavy as a bag of rocks and the pain of breathing, I realized I might have actually hurt myself. My stomach twisted with anxiety. What was happening to me?

The front door squeaked open and Bobby stepped outside. His 6-foot lanky body hovered over me, the overhead light reflecting off his dirty blonde comb-over. I tried to focus on him.

Ren? Are you alright?

I … uhh … I … ummm …

Part of my mind focused on the stalker in the woods, another part was trying to figure out what was happening to me, the third part tried to respond coherently. I heard faint whispers coming through the trees.

Ren? Hello? Earth to Ren? Are you okay?

Yes. I’m fine. Sorry.

What are you doing out here?

The whispering grew louder.

Do you hear that? I asked.

Hear what?

Those voices?

What are you talking about, Ren?

You don’t hear anything?

He stared at me, frustrated. Ren, I don’t hear anything. Are you sick?

No, I’m not sick.

Then why are you as white as a ghost? He studied my face.

I, uh … I felt dizzy so I came outside for some air.

He exhaled. Why don’t you come on inside and try to get some sleep?

I shot one more glance into the now silent woods before going inside.

CHAPTER

Two

M Y ALARM HAD BEEN BLARING for fifteen minutes before I grabbed it and chucked it across the room. It smacked against the wall and the screaming stopped. The last thing I wanted to do was get up for school.

If you ask me, school is pointless. Why should I be forced to sit in a room and learn nothing that will be useful to me as an adult? And you have to deal with judgmental peers who don’t have any other focus than popularity. Yeah, I was pretty isolated.

I’ll admit it; I wasn’t very good at making friends. I didn’t really have a strong desire to. When you feel like an outsider, you act like an outsider. When you feel like no one will understand you, you sort of set yourself up to be misunderstood. So I stayed in my lonely bubble.

In the shower, I scrubbed at my scalp. Long strands of black hair came out in clumps as I pulled; another great perk of having anxiety. Luckily, I had plenty of locks and it went unnoticed. My hair, in all of its blue-black splendor, was the only part of my body I could actually say I loved. Its greatest feature? It hid my face.

Once clean, I got out of the shower and dried off. I stared back into my violet eyes in the mirror while I rubbed at my temple to ease a growing, nagging headache. Purple eyes plus a butt chin and a pixie nose made me look like some sort of elf; it was no wonder people looked at me funny all the time.

After I finished grooming, I made my way downstairs and found a note Bobby had left on the counter.

Hope you’re feeling better. Let me know if you can’t make it in today and need some rest. -Bobby

Bobby owned the town’s grocery store and I worked there part-time to pay off the loan he’d given me for my car. It wasn’t anything jazzy, but I loved my old beetle.

The local alternative rock station blared as I drove to school. We lived in an itty-bitty farm town in Connecticut, population: 2,000. More horses and cows inhabited the community than people.

The cluster of trees blurred as I cruised past and my thoughts wandered back to last night. I freaking floated to the ground. Something had stopped me from dying. Were there really people whispering in the woods? Or did my paranoid mind play tricks on me again?

My train of thought switched when Blink 182’s, I Miss You played. Blink 182 reminded me of my brother. We used to sit together and listen to them, so that song really knocked me in the gut. Even though it revived painful memories, I wouldn’t change the station.

My brother, Derrick, was the only real family I’d ever had. He died when he was 16. I was only 11.

Derrick lived in the system the majority of his life. Multiple times, I was placed in different homes, but continually found myself back at our group home. My therapist suggested that I created trouble so any potential parents opted out of adopting me, and in doing so, I could stay with Derrick. I didn’t doubt his theory for an instant. Once Derrick died, my motive for sticking in the group home disappeared. Without him looking out for me and making sure I was okay, no one gave a damn. So, I stopped acting out and found a long-term placement.

I remember the last time I saw him. He wore the same plain black t-shirt he always wore. I remember how soft it was on my cheeks when I hugged him. Headphones glued into his ears, his tiger’s eye stone dangled from a leather cord around his neck. I loved that necklace and always asked to wear it. He never took it off; it was his protection.

The last time I saw him, he told me he was going to walk to the river for air and to talk to the Doc, some guy he knew, about a song idea. Derrick dreamed of becoming a rock star. Music ruled his life.

I’d asked if I could go too.

Not this time, he said. It’s a school night and you need rest so your brain works for class.

He knew how much I hated school, but made me promise I’d finish my education.

I pouted that I couldn’t tag along.

You always get your way, Renny. And one day, that’ll be how you change the world. But it’s not working tonight, kiddo.

I’d given him an extra long hug, not wanting to let go. It’s like I knew I’d never see him again. I breathed in his chocolaty-musk cologne. He kissed the top of my head and said, I’ll see you tomorrow, Renny. With his guitar strapped to his back, he walked to the door, but before he left, he turned and tossed me his tiger’s eye necklace.

That night, I woke up in a cold sweat with dread in the pit of my stomach. My body already knew something was horribly wrong.

Muffled voices came from the living room. I snuck out of my bed and crept quietly down the hallway. A man’s voice, low and firm, said, We’re very sorry, ma’am.

When I rounded the corner, he was handing our group home mom, Donna, his card. Tears streamed down her face. I knew in my heart what happened, even at 11 years old.

Donna explained that they thought there was an accident by the river. Derrick’s body wasn’t recovered, only traces of his blood.

Sometimes I still felt Derrick around me. I’d catch occasional whiffs of his cologne. Occasionally I’d hear him whisper in my ear. More rarely, there were times I’d see him in my dreams. In spite of loving those images, I cursed them. Forgetting him was easier; remembering how alone I really was plagued me.

As I pulled into the school lot, my fingers toyed with his tiger’s eye, which now had a permanent place around my neck. I dabbed at the runaway tears and fixed my eyeliner before making my way into one of the loneliest establishments to exist—freaking high school.

A herd of lacrosse girls and guys congregated next to my parking space, laughing. Clutching my bag tightly to my side, I walked briskly past them into the building. Some eyed me and, even though I tried to avoid it, mine locked on theirs. I gave a half smile and a hi, but didn’t get much back outside of a few head nods. I hated knowing what they thought of me. I never needed anyone to admit their feelings to me, I usually already knew—it was a heightened sense I had. And they thought I was weird.

I forced myself through homeroom, English, and trigonometry. By the end of third period, my head hammered so brutally that thinking pained me.

While I loathed school, I had to admit that the school library worked as my calm space, so I made my way there. Deep mahogany shelving and walls gave it a Victorian feel. The second-level circular balcony overlooked the rest of the library, and the sofa in the stacks made a perfect place to people watch while reading and writing.

I clicked my pen in preparation for my homework. Result: evil stares from studious peers below me. A subtle spasm suddenly pulsed in my hand and tremors began traveling up my arm. I could see them through my skin—like a snake wiggling through my veins. My breathing wavered and kaleidoscope vision began twisting my perception. Something was very, very wrong. I opened my mouth to call out for help, but I hit the ground before I could.

CHAPTER

Three

D ISTANT SOUNDS FADED IN AND out of my awareness. I opened my eyes slowly, but everything was blurry and I immediately got nauseous. My heart hammered in my eardrums. Sweat plastered my back and neck, though my arms felt coated in ice.

A stab to the arm jolted my brain.

Lift on 1, 2, 3.

Who was talking? God? Is that you?

God has a Boston accent.

That’s not something I’d considered before.

I peeled my eyelids open just a tad. A young guy in a white uniform shirt crouched to my right.

Nope, not God.

Realizing I was in an ambulance, I widened my vision and took in the scene.

Doodads and machines dinged and beeped all around me. An IV jutted from my forearm.

Ah, welcome back, Ms. Nagel. Can you hear me alright?

Eons later, my head nodded.

She’s awake? Is she? She’s awake? Oh thank heavens! a panic-stricken voice wavered from behind me.

Yes, ma’am. She’s awake.

A blinding stream of light assaulted my eyes. I scrunched up my face.

Open up those eyes for me, Ms. Nagel, please.

I opened one.

Can you open both for me?

Reluctantly, I obliged.

Follow my finger for me.

I trailed his pointer left and right, up and down.

Excellent. Thank you. How’re you doing?

I wanted to ask him to keep his voice down. His nametag identified him as Ben.

Good, I managed to whisper.

Alright! That’s what I like to hear. Ms. Nagel, we’re headed to the hospital right now, okay?

His pep was excruciating.

Do you remember falling and hitting your head?

Nope. I nodded yes.

Excellent. Your teacher, Mrs. Nash, is with us until we meet up with your parents.

I don’t have parents, I wanted to say. Mrs. Nash was my librarian. I recalled being in the library, writing. My eyelids sagged; I was too lethargic to fight it.

Ms. Nagel, I’m going to need you to keep your eyes open for me.

Do I punch this guy? Shut up and let me nap!

Ms. Nagel, open up your eyes for me, okay?

Ugh. I glared at him.

Awesome. Thank you.

His hand scribbled on a clipboard as he studied the machines. My heart rate spiked every now and again as I surveyed the monitor. I could feel the ambulance come to a stop. Ben rose as the doors opened. I had to protect my sight from the blinding sun, so I moved my arm over my eyes.

"Alright, we’re here. You’re doing great. We’re just going to bring you in through the emergency