Genesis by Bellamy Westbay

Author:Bellamy Westbay [Westbay, Bellamy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07DXP2Y8D
Published: 2018-09-19T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Beverly

Someone was shaking me vigorously and cursing in an angry foreign language.

“What?” I croaked, then stretched my aching muscles. My eyes snapped open when my hand made contact with something cold and crunchy.

What the—

My hand closed around a pile of dead leaves. I shifted in the stiff mulch, remembering just how I’d gotten to where I was, then squeezed my eyes against the onslaught of emotion.

My parents were really gone; it hadn’t been a horrible nightmare that I could wake from. It had been real.

Through my tears, I could see the dreary grey sky behind the thick leaves of a massive bush. The solid concrete wall against my side was still there, sucking the warmth from my body.

I brushed a patch of leaves from my hair then wiggled out from between the bush and the wall and scurried to my feet.

When I looked up, it was Tia’s face scowling at me. She stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, lips pursed, and hazel eyes narrowed. She wasn’t wearing her work scrubs, just a dark pair of blue jeans and an oversized red t-shirt.

What now? What could I possibly have done to piss her off? Was it because she’d found me sleeping on hospital property? Was she going to report me to the authorities? Hell, if she wanted to do that she should’ve called them before waking me up because I was about two seconds away from bolting.

Her eyes met mine, reading me. She pinched her lips together then grabbed my arm and began dragging me away from the hospital.

“Let me go, you stupid bitch.” I jerked from her grasp and stumbled backward.

Tia met my gaze once more, raising her eyebrows and widening her eyes before jerking her head toward the parking lot.

I dropped my arms to my sides, gave Tia an understanding nod, and followed her to a green, late model Chevrolet. The small car was dirty and looked like it’d seen better days, but I held my tongue, sliding into the passenger seat, and strapping myself in. Seconds later, when I opened my mouth to speak, Tia lifted a hand, subtlety telling me to wait.

I hadn’t a clue what was going on, but despite her bitchiness toward me, I had a gut feeling I’d been wrong about Tia. And my dad had always taught me to listen to my gut.

Tia started the car and pulled out of the hospital parking lot. It wasn’t until we were a few miles down the road that she finally broke the silence.

“My name is Tia.” Her English was heavily accented, but I had no problem understanding her.

Anger welled up within me at all those times I’d tried to ask for help, all those times I’d tried to find out what was going on with my parents. And Tia had understood me the whole time.

“You speak English?” It was more an accusation than a question.

“Yes.” She turned the wheel, pulling us into the parking lot of a small apartment complex. When she pulled to a stop and parked the car, she motioned for me to follow her.

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