Fall of Hope (Book 1): Real Heroes Don't Wear Capes Read Online Free PDF Page B

far?
    Does
he explain how his career is non-existent, and he still has no idea
what he will do, or even what he wants to do?
    Plus,
he isn't too sure which way his sexuality swings. He's still a
virgin, but admires both sexes for different reasons. Maybe it's his
untapped hormones running wild, or the fact his dad has called him a
“dirty queer” enough times it is sinking in. Back at
school, the guys liked bragging about their conquests. But even if he
comes closer to that inevitable act happening, he cannot gain enough
definition worthy of attracting either sex. Or feel comfortable
enough in himself to do so, even if the nurse says his weight is
average for his height of 5”6.
    Then,
there's Gage. According to the doctors, it is nothing more than his
stressful life. If Gage is a hallucination, then how can he trust
anything else his eyes see?
    If
he allows his mind to wander the slightest bit, he will find plenty
more to feel self-pity for. And that would just be the stuff on the
surface.
    Bobby
Ames: I'm great, thanks. You?
    Her
name is Regina, or Reggie as she prefers, but she goes by the name
'Static Whisper' on here. It hadn't taken a lot of coaxing to get her
to reveal her real name. Bobby could tell it was a difficult decision
for her to make though, and she couldn't stress enough that it was to
be their little secret. But that was fine with him.
    According
to her profile, she is twenty-four, single and from Coventry like
himself. She hasn't spoke of meeting up like many do on social sites.
In fact, she appears to be the opposite, even if her profile suggests
she has social needs. It may be the blue, wavy hair surrounding her
porcelain face that gave him that impression. Or maybe the eyelashes
clad with thick mascara, the lip liner thickening her pout, or the
accentuated beauty mark above upper lip. Or the short vests and low
cut tops he finds difficult not to stare at as a member of the male
population.
    After
their last conversation, he believes he may know her better than her
pictures suggest. He penned a poem for her at her request, titled,
'The Beauty of Imperfection'.
    Reggie
begged to read it, so he sent it her after explaining he based it on
observation, and for all he knows he could be wrong. After two
minutes—it seemed longer at the time—she replied by
spilling all her problems to him.
    It
was nice, not to know she had problems, but because it was a relief.
It was a welcome break from his own life and troubled mind.
    Reggie
was between wanting the world to like her and fearing being in the
company of anybody. It's a funny place to be in if you think about
it, but is understandable. She is insecure and suffering with anxiety
problems, so without considering it, he took it upon himself to help
her as far as his means would provide. His old teacher told him that
talking often did more good than anything.
    Static
Whisper: Well, I've seen no helicopters today, or those red coat
people. So I guess that's good.
    Also,
sometimes he forgets she sees things. Not the way a person struck
down by blindness can see colours and such, but one who sees things
nobody else can. She doesn't like to refer to them as hallucinations,
but 'the beyond'. She claims 'the beyond' is her passed lives
creeping into this one. She claims to have lived through World War
II, for one.
    Often
she sees helicopters carrying cargo and tanks in hordes across the
sky. But she says it may not have been World War II, but a war in
another place and time
    Her
dreams are no better. They all start with a siren wailing under the
darkness of her closed eyelids, which caused a phobia of loud sounds.
    She
is in school in most dreams as the raid begins. Sometimes she makes
it to the bomb shelter in the basement, other times she doesn't. The
last thing she sees, with blood smeared across her face, is the
bricks and wood atop her. Other people's limp bodies and severed
limbs sprawl out everywhere as planes drone past the fluffy clouds.
    After
talking