Crimson Read Online Free PDF

hopefully.
    “We believe she is. But we’ve never been able to find her though. They’ve hidden her too well. And I’ve always been too worried about leaving you to go looking.”
    “But you’re sure she’s alive?”
    “I don’t know for absolute sure.”
    I bite my lip. “And my parents?” I ask. I feel like I already know the answer.
    His head drops. “They were executed that day,” he says.
    My heart skips a beat. I nod slowly. “Can you tell me about them? I know nothing about them. I don’t even know their names.”
    He nods. “You’ve grown up to be so beautiful, so much like your mother, Sari. She was so beautiful, yet so very fierce. A wicked sense of humour and a sharp tongue. Crystal green eyes and vivid red hair just like yours.” He smiles, “I really wish I could show you how much you look like her. Your father, Michael, was perhaps the only person capable of balancing your mother. He was the strength behind us all. And very talented. While your mother was the fire of the resistance, the drive behind us, it was his cool head, his planning and ingenuity that kept us alive.” His voice trails off, thinking on it further. “Here comes Cara. There’s so much more to talk about, so much more I need to tell you. And I’m sure you have a lot of questions, questions about your parents, your talents. But today has been so long and you look like you couldn’t stay awake even if you wanted to hear it all. We’ll have plenty of time tomorrow to talk about it.”
    It’s true. Just the thought brings a giant yawn, as if needing to prove his point. Quickly stifled the moment Cara walks into view. You know those awkward moments when you find yourself staring at somebody for just that moment too long? It would appear that my eyes have gotten stuck. Roughly my age, her dusty brown hair falls roughly over her ears, with long bangs sweeping down over piercing green eyes, a small nose and a cute heart shaped face with skin pale and lightly freckled. She has the air of somebody who slips through life unaware and uncaring. She is simply and un-assumedly beautiful.
    “Hi,” she says with a nervous smile and a quick half-wave. “Cara.”
    My cheeks turn redder than the blood covering me. Does she notice? She looks me up and down and says, “My clothes should fit you. Come with me. You must be anxious to get out of that.”
    She turns to the others.
    “I can’t believe you walked her through here wearing nothing more than a hospital gown,” she says angrily.
    She leads me behind the bar and up a flight of stairs. As we walk up stairs, she says, “I’m sorry they thought it was a good idea to walk you through the crowd of people like that. They don’t always think things through. You must be ready to get into some real clothes.”
    We walk down a long run-down hallway, full of apartment doors.  She keeps talking. “This building is one of the safe houses available to talenteds. There’s always accommodation for those who need it. But for tonight you can crash in my room.”
    We stop outside a door near the end of the hallway. Nothing further is said. She fumbles with the key to the room as we stand outside the door; she flashes a smile at me in embarrassment as she struggles to slide the key into the lock. Finally the key cooperates and clicks as the door opens.
    Inside is a small studio filled with antique furniture of all kinds and dark earthy colours on the walls. Its appearance is a sharp contrast to the run-down apartment building that surrounds us and the effect is instantly warming. I take the chance to run my fingertips over a set of polished mahogany shelves.
    She points. “Through my bedroom is the bathroom. I’ll leave you to it. Don’t come out until you’re feeling human again. I’ll have some clothes waiting for you.”

The hot water is exquisite. Blood washes off me and drains away the stress of the day. Have I mentioned that the hot water is absolutely divine? I close my eyes and