As I Fade (One Breath at a Time: Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

plummeted between my breasts. It felt like an ice cube as it shimmied further down past my bra against my stomach. As goose bumps traced over my flesh— goose bumps —a reminder of what he always evoked in me—I recalled how he’d begged me to wear the necklace at all times. In an instant, my neck muscles tightened. I irately swiped away the tears that pricked my eyelids. I couldn’t think about him right now. I mentally snapped my fingers again. Unsuccessfully. Too late, I’d let my emotions take over. A diversion was in order. Anything to distract me from my negative thoughts that were bursting at the seams.
    Glancing around, I noticed the lady’s old newspaper in the empty seat next to me. The lady had forgotten her favorite find. She’d rambled on about how precious it was to her but had left it behind. I held back a laugh. Kooky little lady. I picked up the paper and examined it. It appeared genuine enough and pretty damn old.
    My eyes scanned the headline on the front page, dodging the food stains of course. The stock market had dropped quite a bit that day; that was worthy news. In the lower corner of the paper the small print seemed to pop out like a neon sign.
    How odd...
    As I read the seventeen-year old news, I bit into the glazed donut that I’d purchased earlier. The article was about a little girl who had been kidnapped in my old neighborhood. Of course, it was years ago, but still interesting. The article soon drew me in that I forgot the fact that it wasn’t real. Damn, I wondered if she had been found and if my family knew of her. My parents knew most of the children in our neighborhood because they worked in the school system and it appeared the little girl had been missing for over several months.
    Continue on page eight ...
    Gosh, the paper didn’t even mention the little girl’s name on the front page; something that relevant should have been in the lead paragraph. Since it wasn’t only confirmed that the paper wasn’t authentic, after all. I turned to page eight and zoomed in on the article.
    As I read it, I gasped, choking down a piece of the donut that caught in my windpipe.
    “ The family is devastated,” said a neighbor appointed by the bereaved couple as their spokesperson upon learning that little Brielle Eden’s remains had been discovered in an abandoned old sewer plant in Queens, late last night.
    My heart pounded out of my chest. I reread the sentence several times, questioning my eyesight. My stomach turned upside down.
    “What the fuck,” I said out loud; a little too loud since there were children easily within earshot. My hands were shaking so badly that I dropped the donut. Was this some kind of sick joke? I stared at my name. My name: Brielle Eden! The world around me suddenly went blank for a few seconds. I went somewhere nonexistent; I don’t know where. I felt sick to my stomach, and it was only the excruciating nausea that brought me back to this plane of existence.
    This isn’t true. It can’t be. I’m right here. It’s a mistake.
    “You found my paper.” My eyes dully lifted, seeing, but not seeing, until they found the source of the voice. Once again, the little old lady stood above me. Her violet eyes glowed in the artificial light of the train.
    My words caught in my lungs if that were possible. “What, what - is this?” I forced out.
    “What?” she asked nonchalantly.
    “ This?” I shoved the paper into her face. “Read it,” I ordered, shaking inside.
    A man growled over my shoulder, “Hey Lady, what’s your problem? Why are you pushing her around?” I felt his eyes burning holes into my back. “Leave her alone!”
    Automatically, I flipped my head around toward him. “Mind your own business,” I hissed.
    Taken aback by my vehemence he didn’t respond openly but I could hear his continued snarling at me inside his head.
    “ It’s okay, Claude. I can handle this, but thank you,” the old woman said to him, giving him an innocently