Kimberly Kinrade's Blog, page 17

An audio teaser of Forbidden Mind

[image error]In celebration of the re-launch of Forbidden Mind, which is now twice as long with new twists and turns and more of everything you loved, I’m doing some fun promotional stuff this week. Yesterday, Sam and Drake did a guest post on love, relationships, and surviving an evil child trafficking organization that preys on teens with para-powers. (You know, everyday stuff… )

Today, you get an audio teaser of two sections from the new Forbidden Mind, one with Sam and the other with Drake.

Oh, and go pick up your new copy of Forbidden Mind on Amazon for only 99cents through June 28th. Even if you’ve read it before, you won’t want to miss the new version! (To add to your kindle, just delete your old version from you account, wait a moment, and repurchase.)

“…a thrilling, dark and deeply romantic read that had me sitting on the edge of my seat[image error] and eagerly awaiting the next installment.” – Refracted Light Young Adult Book Reviews

“Do not make any plans on the day you begin, as once you start, you will not be able to put it down.” – L.M. Stull

“…hooked me in from the beginning.” – L.E. Manning

Winner of the Forward National Literature Award, 2nd place, Drama

A 3 minute teaser from Chapter 1: Sam

Record and upload audio >>

A 3 minute teaser from Chapter 11: Drake

Audio recording software >>

One random commenter will win a free kindle copy of the new and improved Forbidden Mind. To enter, just tell me which clip you enjoyed more, and why!

Tell Me No Secrets (Would you really want to read your lover’s mind?)

[image error]In celebration of the re-launch of Forbidden Mind , which is now twice as long with new twists and turns and more of everything you loved, Sam and Drake have agreed to do a guest post for you. So please enjoy as they dish on love, relationships, and surviving an evil child trafficking organization that preys on teens with para-powers. (You know, everyday stuff… )

Oh, and go pick up your new copy of Forbidden Mind on Amazon for only 99cents through June 28th. Even if you’ve read it before, you won’t want to miss the new version! (To add to your kindle, just delete your old version from you account, wait a moment, and repurchase.)

“…a thrilling, dark and deeply romantic read that had me sitting on the edge of my seat and eagerly awaiting the next installment.” – Refracted Light Young Adult Book Reviews

“Do not make any plans on the day you begin, as once you start, you will not be able to put it down.” – L.M. Stull

“…hooked me in from the beginning.” – L.E. Manning

Sam Says

[image error]Reading minds isn’t as glamorous as you might imagine. First, everyone’s pretty much freaked out around you. No one wants to make eye contact, because they subconsciously think they can avoid detection that way. (It doesn’t work, by the way.) And everyone has thoughts that they would never want anyone else to know about.

Even you.

Think about it. How many times have you judged someone harshly, or thought something naughty or totally inappropriate or had a random urge to smack someone (or worse)? Most of us never act on these thoughts. In fact, 90% of them flitter through our consciousness so fast, we aren’t even fully aware of them.

But I am.

I hear those things you don’t even like to acknowledge in yourself. They dance around in my head like a song on repeat. I can’t ever rid myself of your darkest perversions. Is it any wonder Luke and Lucy are my only friends and I’ve never had a boyfriend?

Until Drake.

He’s unlike any other guy I’ve ever known, and not just because he has inhuman physical strength and can control people with his mind, every guy I grew up with at Rent-A-Kid had some para-power. No, it’s who he is on the inside.

He’s fearless and accepts me 100% for who I am. He isn’t scared of my powers and he doesn’t try to hide who he is from me. He let me in to his most intimate secrets and laid himself bare for me to judge.

It’s hard, though. I have mixed feelings about the whole mind control thing. Our roles are reversed, you see. While he accepts me, I find myself scared of his power. But I’m working on it. Together, we face some big challenges.

The place I’ve considered home my whole life may not be what it appears. They’re up to something evil, and only with Drake by my side will I survive.

His strength gives me strength, and I love that about him.

We are so connected, even though we’ve never met in person. I know that sounds crazy, but you’ve got to understand, we’re in each other’s minds all the time! We probably knew each other better in the first week than you will ever know your lover. You don’t know what your partner is thinking, not really.

But I do. I know Drake from the inside out, and it’s because of that total transparency and connection that I know I can trust him.

I don’t always like reading minds, and it’s made my life lonely for a long time. But with Drake, this ability has freed us from the fear and worry that other couples must feel. With him, everything makes sense. Everything fits. He fills something inside of me that I didn’t even know was empty.

Now if we can only figure out what’s going on so we can get out of this alive, we might have a shot at happily ever after.

Wish us luck.

Drake Says

[image error]You don’t expect anything good to come out of being kidnapped, especially on the day I was set to win a major surfing contest. Dude, it seriously sucks!

How they got the jump on me, I’ll never know. It’s kind of embarrassing. I can control minds and kick ass, so how’d this happen?

Well, all I can say is I’m glad it happened. I know, that’s crazy, right? But I’d never have met Sam if some blockheads hadn’t wiped me out on Venice Beach that day. Also, we kind of need each other to get out of this seriously F’d up situation, so…

Maybe fate?

But there’s more. She’s special, different. The last girl I hooked up with, let’s just say she was more of a one nighter that got out of hand. Sam’s a girl I could see spending every night with, forever. No, more than that. Sam’s the girl I can’t imagine my life without.

I can’t even tell you how painful it is to be stripped of my powers and held captive, knowing some of the things they’re doing to Sam. You don’t even want to know what I’m doing to do to those bastards when I get my strength back. If you’ve got a weak stomach, you might want to turn your head.

I’d kill for her and I’d die for her. But most of all, I’d live for her.

I know she’s not thrilled with the mind control thing, but I also know that when she looked into my soul, when I opened up my mind to her and gave her access to every memory, every pain, every misdeed and violent act–she embraced it all without flinching.

I’ll never find another girl like her. She’s stronger than she thinks, and she’s kind and good all the way through. She cares about others and feels things deeply. She cries at sad movies and makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.

I love her, and I never thought I’d ever love or feel loved again. I mean, my best friend Brad, you know, cares and stuff. He’s a dude though. And Father Patrick, he’s like a dad to me. But it’s not the same.

With Sam, life has a whole new meaning. With her I know I can do anything, be anything.

So I have to find a way to get us out of this. I will not let them hurt her, and there will be hell to pay when this is over.

To read Sam and Drake’s story, get your copy of Forbidden Mind for only 99cents on Amazon today. And don’t forget to grab a copy of Forbidden Fire while you’re there. You’re not going to want to stop reading once you start!

Confessions of a Splintered Heart (Our Epic Love Story)

[image error]In September 2010, before Dmytry and I had ever met in person, we fell in love, and I opened my heart to him completely.

It wasn’t easy for me. As anyone who’s read my Unbreakable Heart posts knows, I’ve had a rocky relationship with love, but Dmytry has taught me what true love really is.

In one week, on July 2, 2012, Dmytry and I are getting married. As I looked back on our life together thus far… our online romance, meeting in person on New Year’s Eve 2010, raising children together, I’m amazed at how far we’ve come and how in love we still are. I love him more and more everyday. We are happier than I could have ever imagined being with anyone.

I found this post that we originally wrote for Writing In Love. It was written in October 2010 and it’s still true today. I’m happy to say I’ve healed so much in the time I’ve been with him. I no longer worry and doubt and question that this could be real.

It is real.

I’m living an epic love story everyday. But I had to let go of my pain, and let love in.

This is where we began:

Confessions of a Splintered Heart
Kimberly Says:

[image error]Dmytry has his hands full with me. I’m not an easy person to love. I’m a walking contradiction in so many ways. And I have been broken and beat down by love. Or rather, by hate and fear wearing the mask of love.

In the past, my deficiencies paled in comparison to my partners’. Having spent the last almost decade of my life with a man who physically, verbally and/or emotionally abused me during nearly every argument, then left for days on end to drink our bank account into the red, I’m a little jumpy.

And I have sooo many fears.

So I expect the worst. And I prepare for it on a subconscious level. When I am tired. Or stressed. Or, whatever…I misread what he says. Misinterpret his intentions. Not on purpose. But still. I see the most awful possible meaning in what he says and I allow it to cut me. Wound me. Bleed me.

So far I have been the root cause of every argument we have had. EVERY SINGLE ONE. That’s never been true before. And I am humbled and awed by him.

Because he is PATIENT beyond measure. He understands me better than I understand myself at times. And he NEVER leaves me to my own dark thoughts. He stays. And talks. And envelopes me in love until I see clearly. Until I understand. His love dissolves the walls I build around my heart. It consumes the fear that eats at me. It fills me with hope and joy.

I see his love through a splintered heart.

The lens destroyed by abuse and fear and pain. What I hear is my own dark, twisted version of what he is saying. It is not rooted in the Truth of his LOVE.

But this love he so freely and unconditionally gives is healing my heart. With him I am learning that I can trust without being choked by that trust. Love without being destroyed by that love.

But still I fear.

What if he sees too far in to me? What if he follows that dark ribbon in my heart to the end, and discovers the monsters that are shackled to my soul?

There is forever this part of my Self that is waiting for that other shoe to drop. Waiting for the end.

But here’s the secret my True Self keeps whispering to my depths.

He already knows.

He has already discovered the demons of the dark. Already knows the terror that grips me. Can read every thought I have and feel every emotion that washes through me.

And.

And he LOVES me.

Despite it? Because of it? For all of who I am that has made me, me? I don’t know.

I don’t find myself an easy person to love. But Dmytry. He has a capacity for love that rivals anything I’ve ever experienced. And it is on this love that I will risk everything. Because without it I am lost.

Dmytry Says:

[image error]Kimberly is my first and only love. Unlike me, she has had other romantic partners. Has gone through the trials of relationships. These experiences have changed her perceptions of love. Perhaps given her a more realistic view of it.

She has been hurt. Her heart has been broken. Her expectations are different from mine. When we argue, she fears I may aim to wound her intentionally. When I make promises, she fears I may not mean them.

But I never want to hurt her. Never want to break our trust. To me, it seems impossible that anyone would do these things.

Why?

Why do some people treat their partners with no respect? Why do others let them? Maybe they think that love doesn’t deserve respect. That people don’t.

But I know otherwise. And it doesn’t matter that this is my first relationship. I am in love. Kimberly is everything to me. And why would you hurt the most precious thing in your life?

You wouldn’t. I wouldn’t.

It’s illogical. It’s wrong. And I’d die before hurting Kimberly.

But unfortunately, problems arise.

We misunderstand each other. We fear. We argue.

Kimberly’s past has locked up her feelings and experiences. She fears that what she shares will result in pain, that she will push me away. So she closes herself off.

But whenever she has opened herself up, I have never turned away. Never. She deserves someone who listens. Someone who understands. And I try. I try so hard everyday to know her. And the more I learn, the closer I feel to Kimberly.

So Honey…

Please don’t be afraid. I will never leave you.

I only wish to know your heart. To know you.

And nothing within will drive me away. Everything is beautiful.

You are beautiful.

****

Dmytry has been true to his word. He’s never turned away from my pain or my past. He’s embraced all parts of me, so completely and fully, that I am forced, by the sheer brightness of his love for me, to find what is lovable in myself.

He has helped my heart heal. He has helped our children heal. And I cannot wait to stand beside him in one week and vow to love him forever.

The Writing In Love Wedding
July 2, 2012

Watch for posts, pictures and celebration!

For those who asked (or insisted)

Wedding registration

Target

Amazon

Hatch Our House

Want to come to our Facebook Event for the wedding? I think if you click here you can come. Somebody tell me if that works!

When it’s okay to stalk an author…

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I often send FREE swag and signed books to fans who stalk me!

Ever had an author you loved so much that if you could, you’d stand outside their house at night with binoculars watching them read?

No? Is that just me?

Okay well, you still might enjoy this post I wrote for Evolved Publishing. So hope on over and say hi! 5 Ways to Show Love to Your Favorite Author.

Love at First Tweet (Our Epic Love Story, a blog series)

[image error]I recently did a blog post series, My Unbreakable Heart, that chronicled a very painful period in my life. Talking about abuse is never easy, and I thank you all who walked through that 10-part series with me and shared your stories, love and support.

For those who were touched by that series, if you’d like more essays and poetry, you might enjoy my very first book, Bits of You & Pieces of Me. You can click on it on the right if you’d like to check it out.

For the next several weeks, I’ll be posting a new series, Our Epic Love Story. This chronicles my epic love with my soon-to-be-husband (July 2nd!!!!) and writing partner, Dmytry Karpov. (Aka my sexy Russian Prince!)

This is a story of hope, unconditional (and unconventional) love and family. I hope you enjoy it. Some of these posts appeared first in a blog Dmytry and I used to write, Writing in Love. A few of you might remember that! We weren’t able to maintain so many sites, so we’ll be blogging here and also on his blog, eventually.

For those who haven’t heard, Dmytry and I are co-writing a whole new series together, Blood of the Fallen, and will be giving away copies of our Novella Duology, Sunrise & Nightfall FREE to those who are subscribed to our newsletters. So read on and enjoy an epic love story!

How We Met and Fell In Love

by Kimberly Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov

It seems fitting that our first post should be the “How We Met and Fell In Love” story. Because we are totally convinced this is knowledge each of you secretly in your heart of hearts really can’t live without.

D: Technically, they probably can live without it honey. I mean, they won’t actually die if they don’t read this post.

K: Yes, I’m aware. But it would be a zombie life of the walking dead. We are saving them from this cruel fate.

D: Well, when you put it that way, it does seem we are doing the whole of humanity a real service.

K: We are, aren’t we? Think they’ll build a shrine for us with a statue?

D: I would build a shrine for you, my love, and worship at the feet of your eternal beauty.

K: OMG, See? We don’t even need this post now; everyone can see why I feel in love with you!

D: And anyone who’s gazed upon your beauty or read the brilliance of your words knows why I fell in love with you.

Wow, ok, we’ll be back after this short bedroom break.

Just kidding. It’s not THAT kind of blog. No need to rush to change the setting on your computer or anything. We’re family friendly–mostly! *evil grins*

So this is how it happened. We started as writing partners.

That is how we fell in love.

It started with a tweet.

That’s right, 140 characters and I’d changed the course of my destiny.

I was new to Twitter back in 2010. I’d just signed up and had no idea what it was for. Dmytry found me online and asked me how I was liking it. I told him it was like being at a cocktail party. I’d made some small talk but no real connections.

And then he said… (this is a true story)

“Well. You have me. I don’t know if I’m the best connection. But maybe I will be.”

[image error]

You see? My sexy Russian Prince. How lucky am I?

His exact words. (I saved the tweet!) You know what? He was THE BEST connection ever.

But there were problems. He was a college student on the east coast of Canada. I was a single mom of three kids in California. We were years and miles apart.

So how did we fall in love?

Through story. Through the power of language and the beauty of the soul’s ability to shine through words.

The question posed to us both:

We have each been given an assignment. Write your first impression and how that led to falling in love. We have not discussed what we will say. We will post as is, with minor grammatical corrections. Any correlations in our story are the astonishing result of our deep soul love and freaky mind-reading ability. (Seriously, we can actually, literally read each other’s mind. It’s creepy, but really useful at times.)

FIRST IMPRESSIONS
When Dmytry Met Kimberly

Impressions of Nothing

The first writing by Kimberly that I read was titled “The Nothing.”

It wasn’t about nothing. No. It was an intriguing look at virtual realities and life online. The great prose and poetic style impressed me. The idea intrigued me. I wanted to read more.

Kimberly sent me the synopsis for her first novel, a YA fantasy filled with magic and heart, “Death by Destiny.” Her mastery of the genre and its tropes made her a perfect fit for “The Writers of the Future Competition.” (The best competition for fiction writers,) and I suggested that she enter.

She began writing “The Reluctant Familiar.” Writing fast. Really fast. I have never seen anyone write 2000 words in an hour while simultaneously chatting online. (Chatting with me in this case.) I was impressed. Even more impressed when I saw the quality of her rough work.

It wasn’t rough. No. More like polished work from people who have been writing for years. The characters were distinct, the settings vivid, the voice beautiful. The pacing was off for like, what was it honey, one paragraph? Yeah. One. She fixed it before I finished pointing it out.

Past Advice

I gave Kimberly her “WAS” advice: how you should avoid using the word in fiction whenever possible. (You end up with more active verbs and effective descriptions.) She understood it right away–most people don’t. Once again, I was impressed.

I asked Kimberly to look over my work, help me with edits. She did. And she did wonderfully. She understood the voice I was going for, the mood, the effect of every line.

Often, writers disregard the intention of the author when suggesting edits. Not Kimberly. She knew where I wanted to go. And she helped me get there.

Honestly, I have never met a writer who understood my work so deeply. Who understood me so deeply. Kimberly wasn’t only looking at my style and technique, she was looking at me as a person.

That was it. I had to have her as a writing partner. I had to establish a friendship and partnership with her that would last forever.

I did.

All creative works grow into something more. Take on a life of their own.

But this one.

This one grew into something even more.

This one grew into love.

When Kimberly Met Dmytry

Ok, I’ll admit it. I was worried. You know how it is. When someone you’ve recently met offers to let you read their work, or you ask to read their work, or whatever. I think I asked him for his work. I like reading new authors. But. BUT. There’s that secret little fear.

What if he SUCKS? Then what?

He seemed a nice guy. I am a former entertainment critic for an LA-based daily newspaper.

I don’t do subtle.

I’m not a horrid person. Honest. I’m just…well…honest. Too honest.

Most people who ask for feedback are really asking for a pat on the back.

But with me, you need to be CLEAR about this.

I don’t want to kick you in the butt if you really just wanted to be coddled. And honestly, if you want that, I’m not really your girl.

So. I was nervous.

The first story I read of his was a Halloween flash for a competition.

I LOVED it! Honestly. And boy was I relieved. ‘Cuz I liked this guy, even if at this point I had NO inkling I would spend my life with him.

Then he sent me another short story. This time he wanted an editing critique.

Uh oh. Really? You sure about this? Last chance! Ok. You asked for it.

I LOVED this one too. And by now was seeing his style. His twisty, dark, delightful style.

I gave a critique. We talked about word choice and voice and how awesome the twist was. He listened. He learned. His story was better.

Then. THEN. I wrote a story. For a competition he introduced me to.

And he LOVED it. And. And he gave awesome feedback.

I used the word “was” too many times. We looked at word choice. Story flow. Characters.

I listened. I learned. And my story was better.

I realized something in that moment.

I’d met my match. My writerly match. (Yes, this is a new word, in the vein of literarily but for writers, and as a writer, I get to make up words so shoosh about it.)

He had a unique brilliance at seeing the flow and structure of a story. Catching the stumbly parts. (mmhmm, I did it again with the new word thing.) Seeing the ways in which it could be strengthened.

Most of my college professors were less helpful in my writing. Less astute and in tune with my style and vision.

I wasn’t in love yet. But damn I was in something!

And so it went. We wrote. We talked. We grew as writers. We grew as friends.

And then. We crossed the line. You know, that one moment you use clever words to tumble into something more than friendship, something, mainly because of our age difference, neither of us had even felt was possible.

But the words kept coming. We love words. Love playing with words. And we loved the feel of these words on our lips. We couldn’t stop. And so here we are. So merrily in love as to induce vomiting and eye rolling in many.

We’d made a rule. At the beginning. Never fall in love with me, I told him. He told me the same. Sacred oath. We shalt never fall in love with thy other. Or whatever. I never did understand Old English English.

Of course, as any woman knows, the fastest way to make a guy fall in love with you is to tell him not to. I guess maybe this really doesn’t have anything at all to do with our writing or deeper connections. I simply uttered those magic words.

Who knew?

***

This was just the beginning. Our story has many layers, many challenges we had to overcome to be together. Stay tuned for more our epic love story. (pst, you can also get email updates for new posts if you don’t want to miss anything!)

Sunrise and Nightfall: Even Immortals Can Be Killed

[image error]In March, 2013, my very-very-soon-to-be-husband, Dmytry Karpov, and I are launching an entire trilogy in one day! Blood of the Fallen is the story of Luke and Lucy from the Forbidden Trilogy, after that series ends.

We’re very excited about this series and it’s going to be an entirely different experience than Forbidden, but if you are enjoying the Forbidden Trilogy, you will love this new series as well.

To celebrate, and to reward those who are following our work now, we are writing two novellas about a key character in the Fallen Trilogy.

This is a love story, told from two perspectives: his and hers. Here’s an introduction to the novella duology where you can add it on Goodreads. And here’s the best part:

If you sign up for my mailing list (it’s there on the right under the calendar), you will get a FREE copy of Sunrise when it launches. You can also get a free copy of Nightfall by signing up for Dmytry’s newsletter (more on that to come… he has to set his up! Lol)

I’ll also be offering other perks, special deals and giveaways to my newsletter crowd as early as June 26th, so don’t wait to sign up!

Now, a little about this special duology.

Sunrise & Nightfall (The Novella Duology)
[image error] Sunrise

by Kimberly Kinrade with Dmytry Karpov

“Love eternal has the power to defy even death.”

Danika Star is dying. Not slowly, one second at a time like the rest of humanity. Her death will come on suddenly, and take her unaware—just like love.

Andriy Zorin is every woman’s dream, and when he claims Danika’s heart he changes the course of her destiny.

To live, she must die to her mortality and become immortal.

But even immortals can be killed.

***

Two Novellas. One Story.

Sunrise is Danika’s story. Check out Nightfall to read Andriy’s story.

***

[image error] Nightfall

by Dmytry Karpov with Kimberly Kinrade

“Death has no grip on the eternity of love.”

Andriy Zorin has finally met his soul mate, the one woman who connects him to his humanity—and to his heart, and he’s about to lose her.

Danika Star walks a tightrope between life and death, where only the power of love can keep her alive.

To save her, Andriy must defy the rulers of his kind and make her immortal.

But even immortals can be killed.

***

From the world of Blood of the Fallen by Kimberly Kinrade & Dmytry Karpov.

Add Sunrise and Nightfall on Goodreads.

Get Some Dragon Fire of Your Very Own

Who doesn’t love Dragons? (Careful how you answer that, they are a fiery bunch!) My kids love them so much, I wrote a book about a very special Dragon named Emerald.

[image error]Bella World is a beautifully color illustrated lower grade chapter book in The Three Lost Kids Special Edition Trilogy that I wrote with the help of my own Bella, and today, the ebook is on sale for… wait for it… FREE! That’s right, Wednesday and Thursday, get Bella World absolutely FREE on Amazon!

…A large presence settled behind me. I knew without turning around what I would find, but still I turned….

…and faced the Dragon.

About Bella World

Bella is tired of getting blamed every time her sisters lose something. It’s not her fault they misplaced something important, so why does everyone assume she took it? It makes her blood boil that no one appreciates all the things she does to help and protect people. Sometimes her anger makes her do things she regrets later.

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When she, her two sisters, and their dog TayTay find a watery portal to Bella World, they’re surprised to discover a town ravaged by Dragon attacks. But not all is as it seems, a lesson Bella learns when they are sent to stop the Dragon.

Together, Bella and Emerald the Dragon learn to control their Dragon Fire, make amends to those they have wronged, and in the process find the appreciation and acceptance they’d sought all along.

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About The Three Lost Kids

With full color illustrations by Josh Evans, Bella World bridges the gap between picture books and chapter books, offering children 4-9 years old a new, exciting reading journey.

Learn more about The Three Lost Kids, upcoming books, and explore beautiful illustrations and resources for parents and kids at http://ThreeLostKids.com.

Lexie World

[image error]If you enjoyed Bella World, check out Lexie World (on Amazon here).

In Lexie World, Lexie, the youngest Lost Kid, must save her world from the curse of the Garbage Goblins before it’s destroyed by trash! This book offers a wonderful lesson for children and adults on the importance of caring for our own world.

…Each time I put my foot down, it sank deeper into trash. The crunch and grind of it all sounded like monsters coming to eat me.

“Oh my goodness!” The crunching and grinding got louder. So loud, I knew it couldn’t be just us.

My hands shook and my feet stopped working right. I didn’t want to look behind me.

Then something smacked me in the back of my head! My eyes got all cloudy with tears.

I looked behind me. Big mistake….

About Lexie World

In the first book of the enchanting special edition children’s trilogy, The Three Lost Kids, Lexie and her sisters discover Lexie World, a beautiful world that’s being destroyed by Garbage Goblins. To save the world, Lexie, her sisters, their faithful dog TayTay, and their new Unicorn friend must travel over the Waters of Waste, climb the Mountain of Lost Clothes, and retrieve the Mirror of Ice.

Honey the Hero

[image error]For younger readers who love picture books, don’t miss Honey the Hero (A Bird Brain Book) by Emlyn Chand and illustrated by Sarah Shaw.

Honey, an inquisitive, young parakeet living in the Australian Outback, decides to become a superhero after she spies a human family watching Superman. Since she already has the power of flight, all she needs to do is create a costume to conceal her true identity and then fly off in search of animals that need rescuing.

Unfortunately, every time she tries to help, Honey only ends up making matters worse. She spoils Kangaroo’s game of hide-and-go-seek by revealing his hiding place to Wallaby; Mr. Anteater must go hungry when she alerts the ants to his presence, and Mrs. Koala is made a laughingstock among bears when Honey pretends to be her Joey. Finally realizing that she’s not as heroic as she’d like, Honey gives up her day-saving efforts.

But what happens when someone actually needs Honey’s help? Will she rise to the challenge?

Three great books for children through Evolved Publishing, and one is FREE! What more could you ask for? (Besides a housekeeper, a nanny and a good night’s sleep?)

My Unbreakable Heart: Part 10: This Is Not The End, This Is Just The Beginning

[image error]It’s been many years since my husband left me alone to care for my three children. I was sick. In pain all the time. I had no money. The physical and emotional abuse I had spent nearly a decade enduring had left me broken.

I have come a long way in that time and woken up to more of who I am.

I am stronger. Wiser (I hope). Healthier. I’m doing work I love and supporting my children. I am with a man who loves me and treats me well.

But the demon of fear that lived inside me for so long was very hard to kill.

A few years ago I went to Northern California to face my ex in court for a custody trial, and everything came back.

My self-confident, intelligent, unflappable veneer was utterly blown apart as I sat in the witness stand and endured several hours of cross-examination by this man who had chosen to represent himself.

My best friend, as well as my attorney, both likened the experience to watching a rapist cross-examine his victim. My body language, tone of voice, demeanor, all screamed “VICTIM!” Whereas his…well…he was the bully.

The abuser.

It’s absurd, really, how guilty I felt when he asked me questions that would make him look bad.

“Did I ever tell you why I refuse to pay the child support?”

“Yes.”

“What did I tell you?”

I sheepishly glanced at my attorney, wondering “am I really allowed to answer that?”

Apologetically, and with more fear than I like to admit, I told the court. “Because you are angry that I have custody and you have supervised visitation and you said this was the only way you had to control me.”

“Isn’t it true that while we were married you completed your college degree and went to grad school?” Which sounded like “Isn’t it true that you sold yourself on a street corner, pimped out our kids and used meth during our whole marriage?”

“Yes.” As in “I’m so sorry I had the nerve to do something so awful and pay for it myself.”

And so it went.

At the end I was shaken, unnerved and undone.

But I survived it. And it was a hell of an eye-opener.

So my story is still evolving. I still wear the scars of that life, but the wounds have healed.

I survived the court battle, got custody of my girls, and finally saw the truth of who he is.

And I no longer wake up in a panic of fear and anxiety, never really feeling safe. Feeling invisible hands choking me. My panic slowly turned to trust. The fear to safety.

The more I stay aware of who I truly am, the more I remember that my true heart is unbreakable.

He did not break me, because I cannot be broken!

As soon as I embraced this truth, I was healed from the nightmare of that life.

I write now with a lightness of being, knowing the demons of my heart have already been exorcised.

And my story is just beginning. I am living the life I love, writing full time, helping other writers market their work. I have the most amazing friends and I’m safe and happy. And I’m marrying the most amazing man I’ve ever known. A man who has stepped in to be a father to our girls, my writing partner and my best friend. A man I met on Twitter who, though young, has a wise soul and loving heart.

I am now Writing In Love.

***

This is the tenth  (and final) part of a 10-part series on domestic violence and relationships based on my life. Please come back next Monday for my next series as I write about a truly epic love in modern times! Or follow my blog or sign up to receive email updates. You can also like my Facebook Page for updates on my blog, my books and more. To get caught up, start with Part 1: Why We Stay.

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More of the Forbidden

Last week I posted two new chapters for the rewrite of Forbidden Mind here.

Today I’m posting chapters 3-5, including some new Drake chapters. As those of you who read the original Forbidden Mind know, Drake didn’t have any POV chapters. Now he does! Enjoy and keep an eye out for the extended edition of Forbidden Mind on June 26th from Evolved Publishing.

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Chapter 3- Drake

Warms rays of sun beat down on Drake’s back as he leaned over his board and waited. A breath, then another. He inhaled and exhaled to the pulse of the ocean, each swell of wave matching the beat of his heart. All thought, all anger, all distraction fled in the tranquility of the Pacific, the only place that could bring him peace. This is where he found his God, his religion. Not even Father Patrick’s pews could compete.

The wave approached, and Drake, one with it, stood on his board and sliced through the tide. He balanced on the edge of the world, no longer a part of the scampering needs of the masses. Sprays of salt water splashed his face—a baptism for a man who belonged nowhere.

A tingle of dread broke this his zone. It started in his spine and worked its way up his back. Someone with sinister intent was watching him.

Drake never used his powers while surfing; he didn’t need to. But now, he broke his own rule and snaked his mind over the water and to the beach, seeking the person who didn’t belong, but nothing felt out of the ordinary. The break in concentration stole the joy from his meditation.

Anger boiled in his blood, unwilling to be cooled by the water. He turned his board towards the sand and rode back to shore, scanning as he did for anyone paying too much attention to him.

Kylie the Beach Bunny scampered up to him and threw her slender arms around his neck as he pulled the zipper down on his wetsuite and shrugged out of it. “You looked so hot out there, Drakey. Did you come back for some fun in the sun?” Her lips sought his but he pulled away.

“Not now, Kylie. I have to get going. Did you see anyone around the beach watching me, or anyone who looked suspicious?”

Her painted puckered lips turned down in confusion. “No, why? Let’s go get a drink and maybe go back to my place if you’re done here. I can take your mind off whatever is worrying you.” She ran a finger down Drake’s wet chest, tracing a drop of water to his navel. He pulled her hand away.

“I said, not now.” He added just a bit of compulsion to his voice, using his mind to nudge hers. A vacant expression crossed through her blue eyes then disappeared. He hadn’t really controlled her mind, he’d just given it extra encouragement so he could get rid of her without a scene.

Another trickle of foreboding crossed over his shoulders. Goose bumps formed on his arms and he shivered despite the heat. Kylie frowned, but said nothing else as she walked away, her long, tan and very exposed body attracting the admiring glances of every man on the beach.

Drake didn’t care.

He whipped his head around in time to see a figure in black slip into a car parked in the lot and drive away.

Before anyone else could stop him, Drake grabbed his towel and board and walked the few blocks through the streets of Venice Beach and back to his apartment.

His best friend Brad was still asleep, probably up late again writing. Drake showered, dressed and started a breakfast of bacon and eggs.

Percolating coffee and the smell of frying food finally convinced Brad to join the land of the living. “Dude, you get up way too freaking early.”

“You sleep in way too freaking late! On this, we will just have to agree to disagree. Eat some bacon,” Drake said as he served Brad a plateful of food.

“Thanks, man. How were the waves this morning? You ready for the surf competition?”

Brad shoveled breakfast into his mouth and Drake considered how much he should reveal about his unnerving morning. “I think I’m being watched.”

This put a halt to the eating. “Oh man, I told you this was a bad idea. You need to keep a low profile, dude. Stick to teaching surfing lessons to wanna be’s, but don’t enter an international surfing competition with major media coverage! What if someone finds you?”

The small two-bedroom apartment they shared felt even smaller. Drake fought the urge to walk out and escape back into his ocean, but even that holy place had been violated.

He put his dishes in the sink and paced the living room, starting at the stains in the brown carpet. Their bachelor pad wouldn’t impress many women, but it kept Drake close to the beach and Brad close to the newspaper he worked for. A happy compromise.

“This is important to me, you know that. I can’t spend my life as a beach bum teaching surfing, I want so much more than that! I could get sponsors and surf for a living. I’d never have to worry about money again. Besides, how would anyone even find me or know to look for me? That one incident happened years ago and I wasn’t held responsible. No one even suspected I had paranormal powers, why would they? People like me only exist in movies.”

Brad washed both of their dishes and spread out on their beige couch, his long limbs draping over the edge. “Maybe you’re right. It’s probably just a fluke. Maybe it was just a sponsor checking you out.”

“Maybe.” But probably not. The energy Drake had felt didn’t strike him as friendly or curious. Someone was after him, but who? And why? Could someone have found out about what he could do?

He grabbed his keys from the hook hanging by the front door. “I’m going to talk to Father Patrick. Maybe he has some ideas about all this. Plus, I promised Mrs. Maypol I’d help her move some of the garden statues around.”

Brad got up and pulled his laptop from the computer bag he kept by the couch. “Be careful, man. And tell Father Patrick I said hi.”

Drake closed the door behind him and left Brad to his computers and quest to become a top journalist.

St. Michael’s Catholic Church in Venice had become home to Drake after his fifth foster family had taken him once for an Easter sermon. The stained glass windows and the colorful gardens guarded by Angels had stir stirred a longing in him—not like the ocean, which even at ten years old had stolen his heart—but still, this place had its own power.

The real draw, however, turned out to be the old priest, Father Patrick.

Drake parked on Naples and turned the corner towards the large oak carved door that  had never been locked for as long as Drake could remember.

A young Mexican woman pushed a cart full of fresh tamales down Coeur D’Alene Avenue and, on impulse, Drake stopped her and bought three, one for himself and one each for Father Patrick and Mrs. Maypol.

She smiled and lowered her eyes. “Gracias.”

“De nada y gracias.” He took a bite of the first tamale. “Muy bueno.”

Her smile brightened and she honked the bike horn on her cart and walked on.

Drake ate his tamale in a few large bites and walked into the church with the other two palmed in his hand.

He expected to see Father Patrick shuffle down the aisle to greet him, but the old man was nowhere to be seen. A feeling of serenity settled on Drake as he breathed in the stillness of the room. The sea had a constant pulsing energy that soothed, but here the quiet and calm had its own effect on Drake’s racing mind.

Drake made the sign of the cross and kneeled out of habit, then exited a side door towards the gardens. While not religious, it didn’t hurt to honor the ways of his friend while in his church.

The scent of roses greeted him as strolled down the cobbled paths.

A scream broke Drake’s reverie and he rushed towards the sound, his heart pounding in his chest. One of the large stone angels lay on its side, with a young man pinned underneath. His screams filled the small courtyard.

Mrs. Maypol held the man’s hand and cried so hard her plump face matched the orange-red of her hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Father Patrick stood with a cell phone in his hand and a deep frown on his weathered face.

Drake didn’t think, he just acted. He tore off his shirt and created a tourniquet with it, then handed it to Mrs. Maypol. “Keep him still! As soon as I life the statue, tie this around his leg above the injury, immediately. Make it tight.”

Though he didn’t use compulsion, no one argued. She nodded, sweat pouring down her face from fear.

He looked into the terrified eyes of the trapped worker. His right leg was crushed under the statue that probably weighed about two thousand pounds. “Just hold on. I have to get this off of you. When I do, the pain will be unbearable. Be ready.”

The man didn’t look ready for that at all, but Drake couldn’t wait. He gripped the angel around the shoulder and pushed. Power flooded his veins and muscles. Super human strength flowed into him. His muscles bulged, his thighs stretched his jeans to near tearing, his arms and torso turned rock hard. Still he pushed more, willing the angel to fly.

And then it did.

In a heart beat the statue stood on its base and the now-freed man screamed again and passed out. Mrs. Maypol did her job quickly, tying the shirt around the top of his thigh. He’d likely never walk normally again, but at least he would live.

The surge of adrenaline and power spent, Drake slumped against a bench and hung his head. He wasn’t tired, exactly, just depleted.

Father Patrick spoke rapidly into the cell phone. Sirens blared in the distance. Drake realized he’d made a mistake. No one could know about his strength. He sought answers in the eyes of his priest.

He covered the phone with his hand. “Go to my office and stay there until I get you. We’ll figure out something to tell them.”

Drake slipped back into the church moments before the medics crashed through the garden.

He hid and he waited. Would Father Patrick be able to protect him, or would he finally be exposed to the world? And what would Mrs. Maypol say?

Drake paced the small office for so long he could have sworn there would be ruts in the hardwood floor from his feet.

There weren’t, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

He read every title on the bookshelves that lined the wall—mostly religious books, but, surprisingly, some fiction and a few books on psychic powers and Occult Studies.

The small golden cross on the wall behind the desk looked recently polished and gleamed in the light. Drake felt no power from it, and had no attachment to a symbol that just represented death to him.

Despite every attempt to distract himself, his mind returned to what had just happened.

He worried about the man he’d saved. He worried about Father Patrick and Mrs. Maypol and what they’d say. And he worried about himself. He rarely felt vulnerable. With the powers he controlled, he didn’t know anyone who could pose a risk to him. So why didn’t that reassure him this time?

A creak sounded from the hall.

The doorknob twisted.

Drake froze and waited, ready to attack if anyone but Father Patrick walked through that door.

The door opened.

And Father Patrick walked in. “Relax, boy, it’s just me. You’re safe.”

In that moment, Drake had to fight the urge to cry. What the hell? He never cried, ever. He scowled instead and then smoothed his face when he caught the old priest looking at him.

Drake sat in the guest chair in the office and Father Patrick sat behind his desk. “You saved that boy’s life. The medics said if he’d been trapped any longer he would have been dead before they got here.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That God saved the boy. It was a miracle. Mrs. Maypol backed me up. An angel came from the sky and moved the statue. They think we’re crazy and they likely have no idea what to write in their report, but they’re gone and no one knows you were involved.”

Drake smirked. Leave it to Father Patrick to get away with that kind of story.

A weight lifted from Drake’s shoulders—another possible exposure averted.

“Where’s Mrs. Maypol? What does she think about all of this?”

“She went to the hospital with Ralph, that’s the man you saved. He was helping us move some things around in the garden. And, I think she’s suspected there’s more to you for a long time. She loves you and would never betray you, don’t worry about that.”

“That’s not what worries me.”

Drake told the priest about his morning and his suspicions. Father Patrick stayed silent until the end.

“What do you think you should do?”

Drake sighed. “I hate when you do that.”

“When I make you think for yourself? Yes, I’m wretched that way.”

“I want to stay in the competition. I can’t live my life in hiding forever.”

Father Patrick’s kind eyes held Drake’s for several long moments. “You’re on a path none of us can understand. You have to do what’s right for your heart. I can only tell you that I do see dark spirits around you, so whatever course you choose, be careful.”

His words sent chills through Drake. Father Patrick’s sixth sense was unparalleled. If he said Drake was in danger, Drake believed him, but that didn’t mean dropping out of the competition would keep him safe.

Drake said goodbye to Father Patrick, and an unexpected melancholy swelled in his heart. He hugged the old man, who stood a good foot shorter than him.

“I’ll come by tomorrow to help with the rest of the garden.”

The priest pierced Drake with his eyes. “Be well, Son. Whatever happens, know that you have a destiny to fulfill in this world.”

Strange parting words, but not unusual for someone who enjoyed the cryptic.

Still, Drake felt unsettled.

The feeling intensified as he walked out.

A horn beeped and the shy girl who’d sold him tamales not so long ago walked by once again with her cart, only her smiled had turned to fear. “Señor, alguien que ha destrozado su coche.”

“What? Who vandalized my car? What did you see?”

The force of his words frightened the timid girl. He calmed his voice. “I’m sorry to scare you. Please, tell me what happened.”

He followed her around the corner to his car, which sat lower to the ground than it should, and… something had been painted on his windows.

“Shit!” He ran to the car, fearing what he’d find.

All four tires had been cut and the word “FREEK!”—misspellings and all—had been spray painted across his window.

“Who did this? Did you see?”

Her eyes widened. “I sorry. I couldn’t stop him. I scared of big man in black.”

“It’s okay. You did the right thing. It’s not worth getting hurt over. Thank you for telling me.”

The damage looked like some kids pulling a prank, but a big man in black sounded more like a hit posed to look like a prank. Why? To scare him?

Drake pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to the girl. “Thank you for telling me.”

She nodded, slipped the money into her pocket and left quickly.

Drake pulled his phone out and called Brad. “Dude, someone knows.”

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Chapter 4-Sam

Music blared from Luke and Lucy’s suite, next door to my own room. I let myself in and plopped on their overstuffed purple couch. Lucy saw me first and turned down the radio. “What happened?”

I tossed her the file. Luke walked through the wall from his bedroom into the living room and stood behind his sister to read. He frowned when he noticed the dates. “What about your interview, and the contest?”

“Higgins said he’d try to get me in, but I’ve got to take this assignment.” I sighed and flopped back on the couch. “This totally sucks.”

Lucy sat next to me with her arm draped over my shoulders. “At least you got your painting done. Come on, no more moping. It’s Saturday. Let’s eat junk food and watch movies.”

So we did. All weekend long.

When Monday arrived, so bright and early, I had a major sugar hangover, but my mood had improved from sustained and prolonged contact with my cheer squad. I survived Calculus, barely, and Computer Programming, with Lucy’s expert help—the hacker genius that she was— and a few other classes not worth mentioning and finally made it to my favorite class of the week. All of us had an advisor with whom we met once a week to practice our para-power skills. I had Mr. K.

His normally angst ridden self was more angsty than normal today, if his all black wardrobe and scowl were any indication. Still, my face lit up when he walked into the studio five minutes late.

He dropped his black leather satchel by his desk and sat down with a dramatic thud. “Sorry I’m late. It’s been… a day.”

“No problem. I’m just glad this is my last class.”

He grunted and turned to pull out a sheet. “I’d hoped we could talk more about your painting, and the art contest, but Higgins called me into his office and said I had to turn in an evaluation of you—immediately. That’s why I’m late, if you care.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Evaluations aren’t due for months. Is everything alight?”

The vein above his eye popped out and his fist clenched the paper as if it were something evil to be destroyed. “Is anything ever okay when it comes to this place?”

“Mr. K, why do you hate it here so much? Isn’t this your dream job?”

The noise that came out of his throat didn’t sound human. “More like nightmare. But I can’t really talk about this, Sam. I’d get us both in trouble. And don’t go probing my mind for secrets; you won’t find anything helpful, just a few new expletives that a young lady such as yourself shouldn’t use.”

His glare challenged me to defy him, but I knew better. The few times I’d slipped into his mind uninvited hadn’t ended well for either of us. I’d been in messy minds, tidy minds, perverse minds, but none as chaotic and terrifying as Mr. K’s.

When I made no move to speak, he nodded and continued. “Today, you’re going to draw what’s in my mind and, based on how well you do, I’ll grade you for this ridiculous evaluation. Okay? Don’t worry, I’ll keep my mind calm for the assignment.”

“Um, sure.” This seemed a bit easy, but whatever. I reached for my bag to grab my supplies.

He put a hand up to stop me. “I have something for you.”

He handed me a brown leather-bound sketch book that looked well-used and smelled of old places and history. A round gold emblem was pinned to the cover. Its intricate shape reminded me of one of those meditation circles, but with a more elaborate design. The pages inside spoke to me in their own language, teasing me with drawings yet to be sketched. I loved it immediately.

It even had a special compartment in the front for my pencils, and the paper looked like it could be refilled. I pulled out the pencil already held there and opened it up to the second page, saving the short dedication he’d written on the first page for a later read.

The chair underneath him squeaked as he pulled it forward, so that we were uncomfortably close to each other. “Sam, it’s important that you keep this sketch book, and this sketch, safe. Do you understand?”

I nodded, though I didn’t really understand his urgency, and poised my pencil to begin sketching.

He closed his eyes and I dipped into his mind. Humans don’t think in linear thoughts, not usually. Most of the time people’s minds are crowded with a blend of words, images, emotions, sensations and subconscious whispers. I spent a lot of years learning how to fill in the blanks and make sense of it in a way that would serve my work, so it wasn’t difficult to push past the clutter to find the brightest image to draw. I just had to stay away from the dark corners, the places where his thoughts hadn’t been tethered to the sane.

My hand raced furiously over the page, as if on autopilot. Thirty minutes later Mr. K opened his eyes to examine my work.

“Remarkable. Sam, you’ve outgrown me in talent and ability. I’m so proud of the artist you’ve become.”

I looked at the sketch in my hand and had to admit it rocked.

A wooden box carved with the same symbol as my new sketchbook and lined with detailed carvings of nature took up the whole page. The box seemed to come alive as if begging me to open it.

Mr. K smiled and made a few notes on his evaluation form. I guess I passed.

The next morning I waited by the front gate with Old Charlie and my very own bodyguard. He introduced himself as Gar. What kind of name was Gar, I wondered. Gar didn’t talk much, but was big and scary looking with rippled, veiny muscles and a jaw so square it looked cartoonish, so I supposed I’d be safe from any renegades who tried to hurt me. I clutched my overnight bag to my chest and shivered in the cool morning breeze while I waited for the limo to take me to the secret air strip we used to fly to all of our assignments.

The limo arrived promptly at six and whisked me away. The drive only took twenty minutes, and I never saw a highway or city sign, just trees and valleys of nothing.

Once there, Gar grabbed my overnight bag but I strapped my backpack to my shoulders, not wanting to lose control of my most precious belongings. I boarded the Cessna Citation X, the world’s fastest mid-sized jet, and sank into one of the plush leather seats. I knew the drill. Once we were airborne, Lollie, the stewardess, came to my seat with a needle balanced on a silver tray. I closed my eyes as she injected the drug into me, the one that would render me unconscious for the duration of my trip. This was for my protection, so I’d never be able to disclose the location of the Rent-A-Kid school.

Darkness overcame me and I slept.

Something cool and soft tickled my forehead. My eyes pried themselves open and my head attempted to clear itself of the drug-induced fuzziness. Lollie had her small hand pressed against my skin. “Time to wake up. We’ll be at our destination in thirty minutes.”

She handed me a cup of orange juice and a turkey sandwich and helped me get my seat into an upright position. The rush of sweet sugary fruit gave me clarity and a burst of energy. I tackled the sandwich like a man who hadn’t eaten in a week—common side effect of the drug.

With a few minutes to spare, I used the bathroom and brushed my teeth, then pulled my long brown hair into a bun. A quick touch-up to my lip gloss and a bit of mascara to accent my blue eyes and I was ready to roll.

I went back to my seat and reviewed my file on the client one last time, though I knew the whole thing by heart. New last name, new identity. Each assignment we got a new name, but I didn’t actually have a last name of my own. Didn’t need one, really.

We landed at another private air strip, where a middle-aged driver in a tux waited for us. “Sam Tinsley? Mr. Dollinger is waiting for you. Please come with me.”

I climbed into the back and Gar sat in the front with the driver. I was told we were in Utah. This didn’t register as anything terribly exciting for me. Once the limo hit the highway, I pulled out my new sketchbook and began drawing what I saw, which was mostly flatlands and farms, until we pulled into a wealthy neighborhood with big, lumbering mansions that looked out of place in their environment. Naturally, we beelined straight for the biggest, gaudiest one of them all.

A great cast iron gate with a lion’s head crest blocked our entrance into the palatial estates. Gar took a moment to confirm with the guard and, after a grating buzz and a few groans, the lion gate opened to allow us in. All around us bushes trimmed into lion sentries stood guard as we passed.

My breath hitched in my throat when we arrived at the front door and a tall, lean man in a suit came out to greet us. He smiled at me through the tinted windows, but the smile looked painted on, like a clown’s.

The driver opened the my door and I stepped out, straightened my spine and forced myself to meet my client’s eyes.

He played his part well and held out his arms for me. Did he want a hug? Not happening. I shifted back, slightly, but enough to get my point across. His eyes flickered a flame of anger before he smothered it with false sincerity.

“You must be Sam. I haven’t seen you since you were a baby, but your father says such great things about you. I’m sorry for everything you’re going through, but I assure you, no harm will come to you while you’re here.”

Before I could reply, a small boy of about six ran out the front door with all the enthusiasm of youth. “Is she here? Is she here yet, Uncle Henry?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Your nephew?”

He mussed the boy’s hair while maintaining eye contact with me. “The Beaumont’s son. We’ve been partners so long we’re practically family.”

I chocked on his words. Right, family that’s ready to throw each other under the bus for a buck. I shoved the judgment deep down and played my part in this farce with as much enthusiasm as I could.

“Daddy says to say hi, and that he still remembers the night you drank too much and threw up on his date.” I giggled like a rich, ditzy teenage girl and then smiled down at the boy who hadn’t stopped staring at me. For a moment, I let my real self come through. “Hi there. I’m Sam, what’s your name?”

All boyish boldness fled as he dropped his big brown eyes and shyly muttered, “Tommy.”

“Well, Tommy, did you know that I can draw any animal you can think of? Even animals that don’t exist?”

His cherub face lit up in the happiest smile I’d ever seen, and I instantly fell in love with the little kid. A pain of guilt hit my heart. Tommy belonged to the Beaumonts—the family I had been hired to ruin.

Chapter 5-Drake

At four in the morning, Drake woke and couldn’t fall back asleep. He hadn’t told Father Patrick about his car, or reported it to the police. Brad gave him enough grief as it was.

Drake rose, made coffee and sat on their balcony that overlooked the beach. The sun hadn’t found its way to the coast yet, so Drake waited for sunrise in silence.

The crashing waves and smell of salt water tried to calm him, but this time they failed. Despite his still body, his mind hammered out worry after worry. Brad had made him swear he’d at least consider dropping the competition, but Drake knew he wouldn’t. He refused to run away from his dreams because of a few blown tires and a bad feeling.

Oranges, reds and purple hues filled the dark sky as the sun peeked over the ocean’s horizon and cast its reflection against the water. Drake waited for the sun like a man waiting for a lover to come home. When the bright morning rays reached the balcony, he closed his eyes, basked in the warmth and let all worry go for just a moment.

Brad’s voice broke the spell. “You’re going through with it, aren’t you?”

Drake didn’t speak, but he nodded.

“Come on then. I’ll walk with you.”

They left for Venice Beach, where hordes of people would be gathered to see the competition—next stop, Hawaii.

This had been Drake’s dream since childhood. Each time he landed in a new foster home, he prayed it would be near the ocean. When it wasn’t, he’d take busses for hours to get to the beach. Nothing could keep him away then, and nothing would keep him away now.

They’d arrived early enough that a large crowd hadn’t yet formed, and Drake found a spot for their boards and supplies, then put his wetsuite on, removed his surfboard from its bag and rubbed it down with surfwax. The exotic coconut sent tickled his nose.

Soft arms wrapped themselves around his waste. He turned to face Kylie, and frowned.

She’d been a fling that had become too clingy. Drake didn’t have time or interest in a girlfriend, but Kylie didn’t seem to get the message.

“Drakey, you didn’t come over last night.”

He backed up and placed his board between them. “What do you want, Kylie?”

“I’m your cheer squad, and I missed you. You never come by or hang out anymore. I just thought maybe you could use a little fun before you hit the waves. We could head to the bathrooms for a some privacy.”

Drake cringed in disgust. “Look, I had a good time with you, but I’m not looking for a relationship.”

She puckered and pouted and puffed out her chest. “But we’re so good together.”

“No, we’re really not. Go find someone else to drape yourself on. I’m not the guy for you.”

He waited for her to leave, but her eyes turned to slits and she crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t get rid of me so easily, Drake. I’m not going anywhere. We belong together and I’m not leaving until you see that.”

Seriously? His temper flared to life but he pushed it down. “Get out of here, Kylie. I mean it.”

She reached for him and pushed herself against his chest. “Don’t you want to at least say goodbye properly?”

A war raged in Drake. He couldn’t use force on her; he didn’t want to hurt her and he didn’t want to attract attention.

The murmur of voices around him faded into the background and his focus zeroed in on her vacuous mind. In a voice anyone else would have had to strain to hear, he pushed all his power at her. “Go away, Kylie, and leave me alone. We’re done.”

He hadn’t just nudged her this time, he’d put the full force of his power behind the compulsion. She nodded, a vacant expression on her face, and walked away without another word.

A small twinge of guilt plagued him, but he ignored it easily enough. She’d be fine and would latch on to another hot guy like the barnacle she was soon enough.

Brad arrived with two bottles of water. “What’s up with Kylie?”

“Nothing. She won’t be coming around anymore.”

Brad didn’t say anything after that and Drake appreciated the silence.

He needed to get into the zone and prepare for the competition and the creeping sense of being followed had only gotten worse.

Max McKerry broke the silence for them as the celeb surfer walked by and knocked into Drake’s board. “You think you’re going to beat me with that piece of shit? Dream on loser.”

Brad rolled his eyes at Drake but directed his comment to Max. “Get a life, man. Do you really think anyone here is scared of you.”

The cocky smile plastered on Max’s face didn’t flinch or fade in the least. “It doesn’t matter. Your friend’s going to lose either way. No way a homeless orphan is going to win this competition.”

Words had no power over Drake. The insults slid off his back like water. One thought and this ass would be groveling on the hot sand begging to kiss Drake’s toes, but that’s not how he wanted to win, so he ignored the jerk and stayed in his zone. He didn’t get off on the competition against others, the real journey existed only between himself and the ocean. Her power claimed him, and nothing else mattered. The glory, the sponsors, the trophies—they were only a means to an end, a way to live well, to have financial security while doing what he loved.

Max may have had a better surfboard and more fans, but he didn’t know this water like Drake.

Brad grumbled and set up his chair in the sand. “I don’t know why you don’t put that guy in his place. He’s a jackass.”

“No point. He’ll find his place when we’re in the water. I’m not worried about it.”

Drake’s confidence was not misplaced or unfounded. Each set brought Drake closer to victory as surfers were weeded out.

Now, three surfers remained; him, Max and a girl named Chrysta who had surprised them all with her entry. The surf crashed to the beach and pulled Drake into the open arms of the Pacific. He let everything go and emptied his mind of all worries, angers and fears. Floating and bobbing in the swells of water set his mind at ease. Thoughts floated in and out like the currents, but he paid them no mind; he only waited for the right wave.

Then it came, and all his focus went into his paddling. Every muscle, every ounce of energy pushed him forward towards the wave. In that last moment, he stood and glided on top of the wave, slicing through the surf. Eckharte Tolle wrote “if the primary focus of of your life is the now, then you will be free from pain and suffering.” Drake understood those words only when riding a wave. In that moment, nothing else matters and no other thoughts or feelings have any chance to hatch and take hold. In that moment, only the wave matters.

In a perfect moment of synchronicity and connection, the water wrapped around him and formed a watery cocoon from which he would emerge reborn. In that state of bliss he didn’t notice Max cutting him off. He didn’t feel the pull until his board threatened to spill him into the depths of the ocean.

With paranormal strength he steadied himself and kept his feet under him. A look of surprise flashed across Max’s face before he directed his attention to the wave that also threatened to engulf him.

Both men rode their boards to shore and were greeted by hundreds of voices cheering their success.

To anyone watching, they had just scored a serious victory. Even the judges wouldn’t be able to tell that Max had cheated and tried to sabotage him.

Words mattered little to him, but Max had pushed it too far and had just declared war.

Drake shoved Max to the sand using a touch more than normal strength, just enough to sting. “What the hell, man? Are you so desperate to win, and so afraid of me that you would cheat?”

Max’s eyes turned cold, but he pushed himself up and stared at Drake. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but do that again and I’ll make sure you’re disqualified from the final round.”

A group had formed, drawn into the drama. Drake passed his board to Brad and stormed off towards the showers to cool down before he blew it for good.

All his attention was focused within, and he didn’t feel the threat to him until it was too late.

The warm sand squished under his feat, and the hot sun blazed down on his head. His senses came to him in increments.

He stripped off his wetsuit and stood under the showers, letting the warm water wash away the sand, salt and anger. Today could change his life forever; he just needed to keep his cool and ignore Max.

He’d been so absorbed in his rage, he hadn’t noticed the buzz of warning under his skin that someone was watching him.

By the time he felt it, it was too late.

Something stung his shoulder.

He reached around and pulled out a dart. His thoughts swirled around in his head and his recent clarity gave way to a jumble of incoherent ramblings.

“Dude, are you all right?”

A voice spoke to him, but male or female, he couldn’t tell. His vision blurred and he slumped onto the wet cement, with the now-cold water spraying over him until it ran out of time and stopped.

“Drake, you’ll be okay. Come on, boy.”

Again, a voice he didn’t recognize. He reached out with his mind to stop whoever was touching him, but nothing happened. His power didn’t work. Then he felt it, the compulsion to obey directed at him as someone siphoned his powers from him.

When hands pulled him away from the familiar noises, he tried to fight with his muscle.

“Damn it, he’s still too strong. Get him to the van, quick.”

“Relax,” a voice said to the other. “Drake, you will relax and walk quietly to the van with us. You will not put up a fight or make any noise.”

He nodded and walked forward.

Before Drake could process anything more, a painful whack to his head sent him tumbling into darkness.

The leader yelled at whoever had hit him, but Drake faded out before any other thoughts could enter his mind.

My Unbreakable Heart: Part 9: Letting Go

[image error]There’s only so long you can fight the inevitable before the inevitable wins, leaving you a walking shell of your former self.

For me it was eight years.

He had returned from war, injured, but still whole, at least physically. And we had finally achieved our Barbie Dream-House life: three beautiful little girls, a dog, a cat, a gorgeous house with a big yard, a garden and a white picket fence.

We had it all.

And we had nothing.

“I love you, isn’t that enough?” he would always ask me in frustration when I was unhappy.

No. Love alone is not enough.

At least not the kind of love that is warped by alcoholism, abuse and lies.

It would take me a long time to realize that was never love at all. It was an imposter posing as love.

The small step forward we had made in our marriage prior to his deployment had been undone by his time in the sandbox. The abuse, the drinking, the lies… his years gone had fed those demons until that was all he had left to offer us.

We were living in Washington when our life started to collapse along with the economy. My checks became anorexic and we could no longer make our mortgage or pay the private school tuition fees and car loans. We were sinking. Fast.

It was time to reconsider what our lives “should” look like. It was time to make a change.

My husband was more attached to our house than our kids.

We moved as a family to Northern California, where we were greeted by a wonderful community, with a charter school that was FREE and a beautiful house with rent that was well within our budget. We could live comfortably on his disability paychecks the he received after he came home from Iraq emotionally wounded.

He could heal.

I could write.

Our kids could be at home more, rather than enduring nine hours a day of childcare while I worked to the point of making myself ill and he stayed home to play video games.

Only one thing stood in the way of making this a new beginning for us.

He had to go to an in-house rehab program for his alcohol and anger problems.

No more drinking.

No more choking me and threatening to kill me.

No more terrorizing our entire family with his unstable and violent mood swings.

No more wiping us out financially on weeklong drinking binges.

This had to end, for us to begin anew.

He agreed. Until it came time to actually put action to words.

Then he was gone. Never to come back.

“I can’t be the man you want me to be,” he said as his excuse for why he wasn’t willing to take steps to heal. “When I leave, I’m not coming back.”

That was it. A month into our new beginning, it ended.

He left with my heart, and all of our financial support.

Once again I found myself living in a stretched economy with no jobs (we didn’t think we needed any), and in poor health from abusing my body with pain medication just to keep going. I was always in pain and no doctor could figure out how to fix me.

And I had our three very young daughters to support.

We moved out of our nice house, into much smaller house. I hustled for freelance work. I found a doctor who knew what was wrong with me (I’m allergic to nearly every food ever made! #seriously). And I started to heal.

We all started to heal.

And I let go.

I let go of who I thought he was. Of who I wanted him to be. I let go of my fantasy and faced my reality, ready to live in the moment and let the miracle of the simple moments take my breath away.

It was a long journey to recovery.

And just as I thought I had finally, truly, let go, I had to face him in court in a battle to keep our daughters safe from him.  I was going for complete custody with supervised visitations–nearly unheard of to actually win in the California system.

That’s when I realized how much of a victim I had truly been.

***

This is the ninth part of a 10-part series on domestic violence and relationships based on my life. Please come back next Monday for the final post, This Is Not The End, This Is Just The Beginning , or follow my blog or sign up to receive email updates. You can also like my Facebook Page for updates on my blog, my books and more. To get caught up, start with Part 1: Why We Stay.

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