Resuscitate (Annihilate #1) Read online

  Resuscitate

  S. Morayla

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Once in a Lifetime

  Lost in Paradise

  Left Alone

  Demons

  Fly

  A Love Like War

  Your Guardian Angel

  Besitos

  Take Care

  Up All Night

  Rock Me

  Emily

  Night Changes

  Why’d you only call me when your high?

  Worth It

  Want to Want Me

  The Climb

  Stay

  How Do I Breathe

  Drown

  Sad Song

  Waiting in Vain

  Old Scars/Future Hearts

  Something Great

  Ain’t it Fun

  She Way Out

  Birthday Cake

  As You Are

  Bad Day

  Hollow

  Distance

  Halo

  The Lonely

  Spaces

  I’m a Mess

  Dark Star

  Here Without You

  Talking to the Moon

  Adorn

  Better Than Words

  Girls

  Last First Kiss

  Count on Me

  All That Matters

  Two is Better Than One

  Breathe Me

  Never Be Alone

  Home

  Author Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by S. Morayla

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringements intended.

  Cover Design by:

  Murphy Rae

  Indie Solutions

  Editing by:

  Monica Black

  Word Nerd Editing

  Created with Vellum

  Sophia, without you, Natalia, Kiyah, Zauriah and the GG this book would have never came to be.

  Love you bish!!

  Once in a Lifetime

  The walls cave in.

  I need to breathe,

  But my lungs won’t expand.

  Death feels imminent,

  But it won't come.

  I can will it all I want.

  I don’t want to be here.

  But I know I am still alive.

  With all the destruction around me, the carnage and mayhem, one would think the police are here to help me.

  That is not the case.

  They destroyed me.

  Who I was and the person I thought of as my everything, shattered in one single visit.

  One letter.

  Two people.

  I trusted them most in the world.

  Gone.

  Devastated.

  Annihilated in a matter of moments.

  Lost in Paradise

  Tears fall.

  Chest aching.

  Heart slamming.

  The taste of grief fills my mouth.

  I stare down at the picture in my trembling hand.

  Agony rips through my soul.

  How could he do this to me?

  How could he leave me like this?

  My finger traces his smiling face.

  It’s a facade.

  I know this now.

  “Stop this, Nat. Keep it together,” I mutter to myself.

  These walls stifle me.

  At the same time, they are my sanctuary.

  Now, I’m expected to start a new life.

  Begin again.

  Make a fresh start.

  It’s not what I want.

  I’d rather stay in my bubble.

  Surrounded by sadness and heartache.

  Hard as I try, I can’t shake these feelings.

  It’s been years, they say.

  You need to live again, they say.

  How can that be when my heart stopped beating? Lifeless, I am a shell of the girl I once was. Staring at his beautiful face, the picture doesn’t do him justice. The back of my hand wipes the tears from my face.

  I look out the window to the world continuing.

  Birds still fly, fish still swim, the earth still rotates.

  My world ended; only the few who push me forward noticed.

  “Baby, you ready?” Dad asks as he walks up behind me. Putting on a smile, I fold the picture in half and slide it into my back pocket. I breathe in deep and turn to him.

  Mask.

  Disguise.

  Pretender.

  I am all of those.

  I mask my true emotions.

  A disguise is what I wear on the outside.

  Pretender, wanting to appease those I love the most.

  “Yeah,” I take in a ragged breath, “I think I am.”

  His eyes see. They cut through the shell everyone else sees, observing the misery beneath it all.

  “You okay, sweetie? You don’t look so good,” he says, worry etching his intrusive eyes and voice.

  “Fine, Dad, I’m just a bit tired from packing.” I shrug, averting my eyes. I hate that he sees what others cannot, how he can pick up what others can’t through my small gestures.

  The therapist keeps telling me I will heal in time, I will trust again—my heart will once again show signs of life.

  She’s wrong.

  Once life is gone, it’s never to return.

  I am not Frankenstein; my parts don’t come back to life by electricity.

  No, the day the police came into my house was the day I perished—the day the air was ripped from my lungs, never to return.

  On the outside, my cheeks are still warm and pink. Blood still circulates. To the human eye, I’m very much alive. Because of that, Dad is determined for me to lead a normal life. He wants me to be a typical eighteen-year-old.

  College.

  Parties.

  Drinking.

  I’m broken. No amount of parties or college courses will fix that. These last two years have shattered me beyond repair. My heart hurts anytime I think of him. I get a lump in my throat and my chest burns with longing, even though I know he’s not coming back to me.

  He left me.

  Just like she did.

  They both exited my life,

  Taking my hopes and dreams with them.

  Leaving me with nothing but tears and screams.

  I’ve tried hard to pick up the pieces, but then something happens, throwing me back three paces. Picking up the last box, I walk past my dad. Two steps is all I make before he stops me with his words.

  “I know this is hard, Nat. I get it, but we have to keep going. Time waits for no one and I just want you to have the best. You are beautiful and smart. You deserve a great life. Living here and shriveling up won't change the past.”

  Past.

  Present.

  Future.

  My past taints my present and haunts my future.

  As the tears run down my face, I stare at the box in my arms. My heart hurts not only for me, but for my Dad as well. He has been my rock these past two years—my only friend and support system. Even though I don’t want to leave Colorado to go
to college in Los Angeles, I know, deep down, this is for the best. It’s not normal to be stuck in a house 24/7. For him and Uncle Victor, I’ll try.

  They sustain me.

  Give me validity.

  Never allowing me to giving up when all I wanted to do was cry. They help me see the little glimmers of light. For them, I will try my hardest to live. For them, I will do anything to get back a piece of who I once was.

  “I know, Dad, I just wish I didn’t have to move so far from you. You deserve a great life, too. I feel like I’m abandoning you.”

  Taking the box from my arms, Dad stands before me. He lifts my head with his hand and cups my face. I stare into his green eyes and it feels like he’s searching my soul, looking for the little girl I once was. I want to be her for him, to live free and trust openly. He knows she no longer exists, but he tries to get me back there. His hair has taken on some grey. It doesn't look bad, though. It makes him look more distinguished. He worries I am slowly tuning out of reality.

  Home schooled.

  Friendless.

  Introvert.

  He sets the box aside and pulls me into him, hugging me. “No, baby, you’re not. You’re giving me a great gift. Seeing you go to college has always been my dream for both of us. You make me proud. I know this is hard, but I can take care of myself.” His voice is low and gruff. A guttural sob rips from his throat.

  “Please don’t cry, Daddy,” I whisper into his shirt and he hugs me harder. I’m going to miss him so much. Without him, I probably would have never left the house. He gave me strength and I’m determined to show him I am strong. Both our lives have changed so much. I don’t want to cause him hurt any longer.

  He’s worried, which is understandable. With time and therapy, I’m beginning to really understand his point. He only wants what is best. What parent wants to see their child depressed?

  Going to college is going to be the hardest thing I’ve done in the past two years. I feel like I am skipping baby steps and diving right into the pool of life. I just hope I don’t drown.

  Left Alone

  Daunting.

  Intimidating.

  Swarms of people.

  Watching the campus come into view, I can’t help but feel insignificant.

  Fragile and small.

  Wanting nothing more than to crawl back into my bubble. Dad was going to come, but he and my therapist decided it would be best for me to take this first step on my own. Now an adult, I need to learn to rely on my instincts and myself. At least I’m going to college, I argued to deaf ears. A huge step, all to no avail.

  Instead, I rode in with my uncle.

  “Stop that, Natalee, you are going to be fine,” Uncle Vic chastises. He grabs my hand, my mouth releasing the edge of my chewed thumb. Nervous habit.

  “How do you know? What if I have a panic attack? What if people think I’m weird? What if—”

  “Stop, okay?” A smile spreads across his lips.

  “Nobody is going to think you’re weird. Strange? Maybe. But hey, we all have our quirks.” Rolling my eyes at him, I divert my gaze to the hordes of families crowding the sidewalks of the dorms. His hand covers my own, pulling my attention.

  “What really has you worried?”

  “Not having my own space. I’ve lived in my own personal sanctuary, just me and my four walls, for as long as I can remember. Now I have to share. What if she’s, like, a hippy drug user or a serial killer?”

  His forehead crinkles in confusion before a chuckle bursts through his lips.

  “I see your point. Still have to do it, Nat.”

  “If I end up on the news for being murdered, don’t cry at my funeral. Just know, I will be haunting you and saying I told you so!”

  Rich, boisterous laughter fills the cab.

  “You have been watching too many Lifetime movies.”

  * * *

  I sit on my bed, looking around the tiny room. Images flash through my mind like a slideshow. I can’t do this. Who am I kidding? I’m not strong enough. The walls mock me, expanding and contracting like a lung.

  I can’t catch my breath.

  Gripped in my own nightmare, everything before me blurs.

  “Breathe, Nat. In and out. In and out, just breathe. Focus.”

  Gulping.

  Swallowing.

  Inhaling and exhaling.

  I slam my eyes shut and shake out my arms, hoping to calm my racing heart. Trying again, I take in a deep breath of the cool air swarming around me. My lungs reject it. I rock forward, letting my head fall back, hoping it will help. Grabbing the edge of the bed, I dig my nails into the flimsy mattress. Pain ricochets through my fingernails up my arms, but I hold tight.

  “Fight through it, Natalee. Focus. Breathe. Inhale, exhale. Breathe.”

  In the distance, there is a distorted voice, but the sound is too far away to know whether it’s another voice or my imagination conjuring up disembodied noises.

  Ten,

  Nine,

  Eight,

  Just breathe.

  Seven,

  Six,

  Five,

  Calm.

  Four,

  Three,

  Two…

  Swallowing my panic, my heart rate begins to slow. I reluctantly open my eyes.

  “You okay?” Looking up, I’m met with my uncle’s furrowed brow. His warm hands cup my cheeks as his deep chocolate eyes scan my face, searching for an answer.

  “Sorry, yeah. It’s just…” I wave my hand around the small room and avert my eyes, hating that I caused him to worry. Vic lets out a loud breath and lets go of my face. The bed dips beside me and embarrassment swarms through me when I look at him.

  I don’t allow others to see me this way, but my uncle is only trying to do what is best and I know I’m acting like a baby.

  “This is hard, Nat, and I am so proud of you. This transition is going to be difficult, we all know it. Do you think sitting in a room all day withering away is going to do you any good? If we didn’t think you could handle it…” he shakes his head, “scratch that, if I knew you couldn’t handle this, baby girl, I would pull the plug. I will always have your back.” He stretches out his right leg and puts his hand in his pocket before pulling something out.

  “Here.” I open my hand under his.

  Cold.

  Shiny.

  Metal.

  Looking down, I see a key.

  I look back up at him, confused.

  “If you ever feel like you need an escape, whether it’s from your roommate or this space gets claustrophobic, go to my condo. Chill out, get your bearings, then come back and make this college your bitch.”

  I nod and swallow, turning the key over and over in my palm.

  “Make this college my bitch?” I ask with a sniffle.

  “Yeah, you know, YOLO and all that.”

  My lips crack a smile. “Nobody says YOLO anymore.”

  “Ah, I forgot its YEET.” He chuckles.

  I shake my head.

  “Stop watching Vines, you’re not that cool.”

  “It was YouTube, and yes, my darling niece, I am. One day, you will see my awesomeness and beg to be down with my squad.”

  “Beg to be down with your squad? You scare me, you know that, right?” I give him a genuine smile. He’s one of the few I allow to see...me.

  Uncle Victor rises from the bed, stretching his arms above him, and a smile spreads across his lips. “This,” he toes at a box off to the side of his foot, “is the last of them. I need to head on out. You know, meetings and other grown folk shit. You sure you’re alright?” The jovial, lighthearted voice of a minute ago is now gone, replaced by a thicker, gruffer voice, concern leaking through.

  “Yeah, thanks for everything. I really appreciate it, Vic.” I walk into my uncle’s open, waiting arms. The truth is, I’m terrified to be alone. I’ve been alone for the past two years, but it was in my home, my four walls. Here, I feel like I’m about to get lost in the sea
of people. I’m going to drown and there will be nobody there to help save me.

  Alone.

  Isolated with my thoughts.

  Wishing.

  Hoping.

  Praying the time when it hurts less will soon be here. That I will be a semblance of the girl I once was.

  * * *

  The next day, I head over to freshman orientation, which is long and boring. My roommate hasn’t shown up yet. Any day now, I’m expecting her to pop in, and hoping to the universe she isn’t a bitch.

  That was one of my complaints to my dad. That conversation ended with him saying, “Natalee, everyone has problems. You need to remember people deal with situations in different ways. It’s up to you not to be an asshole and try to understand others.” Great advice, if I actually wanted to get to know people, I suppose. Unfortunately, not all people are as smart as my dad.

  In a few days, school will begin.

  Uncertainty washes through me.

  I’m looking forward to schoolwork.

  It preoccupies my mind.

  Helps with the sadness,

  Loneliness,

  Bleakness consuming my thoughts.

  “Oh my God! Did you see how cute he was?”

  Incessant giggling resonates through my door as it opens.

  Time halts,

  Ceases.

  My hand freezes in the box I’m digging through.

  Heart crashes against my ribs.

  This is it, the moment I’ve dreaded.

  The intruder stops giggling when she sees me and smiles huge, like I’m her long-lost best friend.

  “Oh, hi there. Are you my roommate?” I stare into sparkling sapphire eyes.

  She is tall, taller than my five-foot-one stature. Flowing blonde hair, the body of a dancer—lean and long.

  “Uh...yeah.” I stand, holding out my hand. “My name is Natalee, but my friends call me Nat.”

  “Leslie.” She pushes my hand to the side and wraps her arms around me.

  Frozen.

  Paralyzed.

  Incapacitated.

  I stiffen, feeling all kinds of awkward. In the last two years, only my dad and Uncle Vic have hugged me. Not that I reject hugs, I just shy away from touch.