Fractured Mind by Odette C. Bell

Author:Odette C. Bell [Bell, Odette C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Odette C. Bell

FRACTURED MIND EPISODE THREE

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The tense of the story shifts from third-person to first person in the final two books to reflect Sarah’s fight with her mind.

1

Sarah Sinclair

I woke. In fitful bursts. Consciousness slammed against me like waves from a violent storm. My mouth was filled with the distinct metallic taste of blood, and a heavy, throbbing pressure kept snaking up and down my neck and hard into my shoulder.

It took me several seconds to realize I was moving. Not of my own free will. I was being dragged.

My memory came in flashes. I lost all track of time, and it was agonizingly long before I remembered what had happened. The train. There’d been some kind of explosion. One whole wall of our carriage had been ripped open.

… And Karax. He’d fallen through. As that memory slammed into me, a wave of agonizing nausea came with it. I gasped.

Somebody stopped. The same somebody who’d been relentlessly dragging me through the train. I guessed we were still on it. Guessed that was the reason for the ceaselessly flickering lights above me and the smell of broken, burned metal and electronic fittings in the air.

My eyes blinked open and closed, rolling into the back of my head as another wave of agony pulsed down my chest. It was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the regret, shame, and guilt that came with it.

Karax was dead. There was absolutely no way he could have survived that explosion. And even if it had somehow thrown him clear, then the fall would have killed him. We’d been traveling through a perilous mountain range….

I gasped again. That’s when I felt a hand around my wrist.

The section of carriage we were in was broken and warped. As my bleary gaze tried to fight back my nausea and lock on the scene, I saw mangled holes in the ceiling giving way to broken sections of seats, here and there discarded bags and clothes and old food containers dispersed amongst the muck. The smell was worse. Singed metal, sparking wiring, and the general ugly scent of destruction.

Whoever had a hold of me paused. They shifted forward with a low, guttural laugh. The tone of the laugh and the intention behind it were obvious. Cruel satisfaction.

There was no way I could fight against the strength of the person’s grip, even if I’d been returned to my usual state of health. Their fingers felt like wide, strong metal bands locked around my wrist.

They kept dragging me forward, and I kept seeing eerie flashes of the mangled carriage. Finally, they stopped.

I had no idea how much time had passed. It could have been anywhere from several seconds to several days. My thoughts and emotions came in wild, violent blasts.

Two impossibly strong hands wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me up. I was propped against the broken remains of a seat.

The lights flickered in and out ceaselessly, giving the scene the eerie quality of a fractured nightmare.

The man didn’t say anything. He brought his face down close to mine.

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