Hurt: A Novel (Solitary Tales Series) Read Online Free PDF

all of you.”
    I close my eyes because I want to go back to sleep, then I wonder if I’m still dreaming.
    “You will never amount to anything, and this silly, stupid faith of yours will never mean anything.”
    I grip my hands and force them into fists. I can feel the sweat on my forehead and face.
    What’s happening to me now?
    “This is your life, and I will be here by your side for the rest of it, Chris.”
    The voice is as real as the burning heat filling my body. I tear off the cover and just rest there, eyes opened but not seeing anything.
    “It’s only going to get worse. And you’re only going to be more frightened and freaked out until everything splinters away into ashes.”
    I get out of bed then and kneel on the cold carpet.
    “It will do you no good,” the voice says right beside me.
    I start to pray, folding my hands and bowing my head.
    I pray, and I don’t stop.
    I don’t know how this works—I really don’t. But I know that I have to do something and I have to do it now.
    And eventually all I can hear is my own voice, praying. The other voice is gone.
    I’m rinsing out my cereal bowl and glance at the half-opened laundry door. I wonder for a moment if I left it that way, then I sigh and walk toward it.
    If I could bet, I’d put good money on the mannequin being gone. But the creepy thing is still there, lying facedown on the floor. The curly long hair looks just like Lily’s.
    Oh man.
    That’s not the best way to start a day after the last day and a half I’ve had. I stare at the lifelike figure and see the back of its shirt pulled up, revealing the cream-colored “skin.” I wonder what these mannequins are made of—certainly not plastic. As I’m wondering this, I see some writing on the dummy.
    Up close, I see it’s a business name and an address.
    GRAFFIC NATURE
    1947 Zebulon Lane
    Solitary, North Carolina
    It’s wonderful to see that whoever bought this mannequin and brought it to my cabin is supporting local business. Or artists. Or freaks.
    Before leaving for school, I drag the Lily look-alike out the back door and leave her there. I hope she finally gets the hint and runs away.
    On the way to school I think about my midnight prayers and know that I need help. Not just help with finding Mom and trying to keep Staunch satisfied, but help in trying to figure out what to do next with this whole faith thing. Maybe I’ll go to church, but the nearest church … oh, right.
    There are those around who have real faith.
    I remember what Jocelyn showed me so long ago, the group of people who used to have church under Marsh Falls. If I could find someone there and try to reach out—maybe it would be someone I could trust. Someone I could get a little help from.
    Someone who can help me figure out a few things.
    I think back to the beginning of last summer when I decided to avoid everything, including people like Poe who had recently moved. I never did reply to any of her emails. She eventually stopped sending them, which was what I had hoped.
    What did she say that one time?
    Before heading into school, I find the letter Poe left in my locker. I’ve kept it tucked away in a desk drawer.
    I sent this to the only person I could think of who I know has your back and used to have mine. Hint, it’s not a she. And boy does he love his M&Ms.
    I never did try to find out who this person was because—well, frankly, I didn’t really care. That was when I had decided to do things on my own.
    And when I was going gaga over Lily.
    Looking back on that, I can see why they did what they did. It was a perfect setup. I had decided I’d had enough and had told God and the rest of the world to go take a hike. Then into my wrecked life walks this goddess that any guy would be crazy for.
    Thinking of Lily hurts. But it’s different from thinking of Jocelyn.
    Both died. But only one died with hope in her heart.
    I walk up those stairs to the entrance to Harrington, wondering what this final semester will