How could she not believe him? He’d never made a promise he couldn’t keep, and if he thought everything would be okay, everything would be okay. “We’ll get you to the hospital and everything will be okay. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” her dad assured her. The movement, temperate though it was, jostled her, magnifying the pain and she moaned. Strong arms slid under her, one at her shoulders, the other at her knees, and lifted her. And oh, dear heaven, the burn migrated to her chest, flames sparking every time her heart beat. “Can you hear me? Can you tell me what happened to you?”Īnnabelle tried to speak-Daddy, help me, please, help me-but the words became diamond hard and too jagged to swallow. “What happened to her face?” her father bellowed. A second later, a horrified gasp filled her bedroom. What happened to your eyes? Rick! Rick! Hurry!”Ī curse was followed by the pound of hard, fast footsteps. “Annabelle? Are you all right?” A pause, then a hiss of breath. The whine of hinges, the clack of high heels against the hardwood floor. In seconds, panic chewed her up and spit her out. A warm liquid now coated her hands.Īnother scream left her, followed by another and another, each like a serrated piece of glass scraping her throat raw. She rubbed at her face, even clawed, hoping to remove whatever was causing the problem, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. The pain spread, riding the too-swift tides in her veins and threatening to burst through her skin. She pried her swollen eyelids apart, but…there was no dawning light.

When full awareness finally struck, her entire body tensed and bowed, a scream ripping free of her throat. She became aware of the sensation gradually, her mind still fogged from sleep. THE MORNING OF HER eighteenth birthday, Annabelle Miller woke from the most amazing dream feeling as if her eyes had been ripped out, dipped in acid and shoved back into their sockets.

Wicked nights by gena showalter