Broken Angels Read Online Free PDF Page B

looked worse…or happier. The way she held that baby as if he were a natural extension of herself, the tenderness soaking her features as she gazed at his dozing face, hit Rebecca like a punch to the gut. The small frame suddenly felt heavy in her palm, so she placed it back on the counter and turned away.
    Decisively, she walked to the table and shut off her computer. There was no way she’d get any work done today. She was far too distracted and far too emotional. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was to write with her brain, not her heart.
    Her heart was erratic, undependable, and more often than not led her down the wrong path. Her mind, on the other hand, was a compass, keeping her focused, pointing her in the right direction.
    And right now it was telling her to go check on the kids. They were way too quiet for her liking.

    Noah stood outside his dad’s home office, trying to find the guts to walk in. He hadn’t stepped into this room since that night—the night his parents died—and he was tired of feeling like a coward. If only he hadn’t been such a chicken that night, maybe…
    A fist tightened in his throat. He was such a loser.
    His aunt thought he was watching TV, but some dumb baby show had come on and the computer was here, so he figured he’d have a lot more fun playing one of his games.
    If only he could open the stupid door.
    He wrapped his hand around the handle. It was cold, like the weight in his chest. Slowly, he turned it, inched the door open. The hinges creaked, and he nearly lost his nerve.
    Stop being such a baby. Nothing’s in there.
    Nothing but the images in his head. Images he just couldn’t erase, no matter how hard he tried.
    He took a deep breath, a small step forward, then another. Before he knew it, he was inside.
    See, that wasn’t so bad.
    The room didn’t look much different. The carpet was gone, but that was about it. It was hard to believe his parents had died here. But they had.
    All his insides stung as if something was trying to rip the flesh from his bones. He hunched his shoulders to hold in the pain, to keep it from devouring him. It didn’t work. It just tied him up in knots and made his belly ache.
    So he did what he always did when he wanted to forget how much life sucked—he ran to his dad’s computer. He hadn’t gone on Falcon World in weeks, ever since he and his dad had that nasty scrap and he’d forbidden him from ever logging onto his favorite site again, which was totally unfair. Still, he felt guilty for disobeying him, even though his dad wasn’t around anymore. Maybe it was because he was in this room, where his parents had been shot.
    The pain returned—a sharp, burning sword slashing through him—so he turned the computer on. What did it matter if he played a game or two with one of his online friends? What was the big deal, anyway? He tossed a glance over his shoulder as he waited for the lousy machine to boot up. It seemed to take forever.
    Finally, color exploded on the screen. Using his parents’ e-mail address, Noah quickly reactivated the account his dad had blocked, then went to the login page. He knew his way around a computer, and that pleased him. It was cool to be good at something, especially computers. He typed in his screen name, Raptor100, followed by his password. Anyone who signed up had to use the name of a bird. That was the way things worked at Falcon World. He didn’t recognize any of the other players, but he hung out with them for a while just the same.
    Then Night-Owl came on. He always seemed to be around when Noah was there, so they’d become friends. They chatted about all sorts of things—mainly the latest games and how annoying adults were.
    Noah loved the talks he had with Night-Owl. It was great to speak to someone who actually listened for a change.
    “Hey, Raptor WB. WU?” Welcome back. What’s up?
    Noah didn’t feel like going into the whole ugly story, so he wrote: “Nothing much. My life