What do you think?
Rate this book
Downstream: A Novel
Kidnapped as a teenager and thrust into the underbelly of human-trafficking, Rowan is isolated from the world for nearly two years. When she finally escapes, she crashes into a reality that she does not recognize; where survival is brutal, law doesn't exist, and perception is never truth. To chase down the one memory from her past that she cannot dismiss, she must first learn who to trust and how to love.
Downstream is an inspired fiction novel written as a first-person narrative. It is an interwoven story of abandonment, human-trafficking, loss of innocence, adventure and finally self-awareness.
Set in a post-apocalyptic world where what was contemporary has disintegrated, the story reveals situations that are believably transacted. The characters are human and identifiable; the descriptive treatment of the settings and environment are vividly recognizable. The climax is heart-pounding and the subtle denouement surprising.
Excerpt
A short and intense noise disturbed the air - a gun fired - and I needed no further reminder as to why running was currently the most important course of action.
And so, I did. I ran. It was easily 200 yards to the tree line. After being caged for so long, the open made me feel vulnerable and exposed. I pushed harder and faster. The backpack jostling from shoulder to shoulder.
I hated how weak I felt. How my legs weren't sure of the movement. How my lungs felt like cheesecloth, shallow and full of holes. They did this to me. My captors. This was not who I was.
I was tough. I was resilient. My whole life, I had had no other choice.
I broke through the tree line but did not stop. I had to get away from here. I was running from the me that I never wanted to remember.
"Hey!" I heard the shout.
I jerked and stumbled at the same time. My knees barely skimmed the ground before I was scrambling up and propelling myself forward once again.
Then the figure stepped out in front of me and I had no choice but to stop.
It was a girl. Maybe my age, maybe younger. She was smaller than me, but I couldn’t see past her broken face. Her bottom lip was swollen, dried blood caking the seams. Angry red bruises rung her neck. Her cheekbone had been scraped raw.
I wondered if she was the girl that I heard screaming last night. I wanted to feel for her, to feel the common bond that our situation had manifested. But I had an inextinguishable will to survive and there was no room for pity.
I made a move to sidestep her, but she mimicked me in movement. She held her hands up, palms out.
“Wait,” she said gently, pleadingly. “Can I – Can I follow you?”
No! Everything inside of me screamed ‘no’. No extra baggage. No extra responsibility. Stay lean. Stay fast. Survive.
Years of looking out for myself, years of constant movement and adaptation screamed at me to tell her ‘no’. To turn and run fast and then faster still until I could no longer feel her presence behind me.
But instead, I stayed still long enough for her blue eyes to catch hold of me. They looked young. They looked scared. Captivity had not hardened her, and I wondered how long she has been at the compound.
So, while I meant to tell her no, somehow, I offered her a nod of my head.
This book contains disturbing situations, dubious consent, sexual abuse, strong language, and graphic violence.
Downstream is an inspired fiction novel written as a first-person narrative. It is an interwoven story of abandonment, human-trafficking, loss of innocence, adventure and finally self-awareness.
Set in a post-apocalyptic world where what was contemporary has disintegrated, the story reveals situations that are believably transacted. The characters are human and identifiable; the descriptive treatment of the settings and environment are vividly recognizable. The climax is heart-pounding and the subtle denouement surprising.
Excerpt
A short and intense noise disturbed the air - a gun fired - and I needed no further reminder as to why running was currently the most important course of action.
And so, I did. I ran. It was easily 200 yards to the tree line. After being caged for so long, the open made me feel vulnerable and exposed. I pushed harder and faster. The backpack jostling from shoulder to shoulder.
I hated how weak I felt. How my legs weren't sure of the movement. How my lungs felt like cheesecloth, shallow and full of holes. They did this to me. My captors. This was not who I was.
I was tough. I was resilient. My whole life, I had had no other choice.
I broke through the tree line but did not stop. I had to get away from here. I was running from the me that I never wanted to remember.
"Hey!" I heard the shout.
I jerked and stumbled at the same time. My knees barely skimmed the ground before I was scrambling up and propelling myself forward once again.
Then the figure stepped out in front of me and I had no choice but to stop.
It was a girl. Maybe my age, maybe younger. She was smaller than me, but I couldn’t see past her broken face. Her bottom lip was swollen, dried blood caking the seams. Angry red bruises rung her neck. Her cheekbone had been scraped raw.
I wondered if she was the girl that I heard screaming last night. I wanted to feel for her, to feel the common bond that our situation had manifested. But I had an inextinguishable will to survive and there was no room for pity.
I made a move to sidestep her, but she mimicked me in movement. She held her hands up, palms out.
“Wait,” she said gently, pleadingly. “Can I – Can I follow you?”
No! Everything inside of me screamed ‘no’. No extra baggage. No extra responsibility. Stay lean. Stay fast. Survive.
Years of looking out for myself, years of constant movement and adaptation screamed at me to tell her ‘no’. To turn and run fast and then faster still until I could no longer feel her presence behind me.
But instead, I stayed still long enough for her blue eyes to catch hold of me. They looked young. They looked scared. Captivity had not hardened her, and I wondered how long she has been at the compound.
So, while I meant to tell her no, somehow, I offered her a nod of my head.
This book contains disturbing situations, dubious consent, sexual abuse, strong language, and graphic violence.
395 pages, Paperback
Published March 4, 2020
2 people are currently reading
13 people want to read
About the author
Bethany Patrick
2 books5 followersHeavy Is the Hurricane is Bethany Patrick's sophomore venture in novel writing. She is a microbiologist and herder of needy children and farm animals by day, an overthinker by night. She lives in Small Town, Indiana in a barn built by her family's own hands. Writing is nearly exclusively done on random vacation days from her routine pays-the-bills job and is always an exercise in battling distractions. When given a moment to just be, Bethany can always be found outdoors, absorbed in all things nature.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
Want to read
November 23, 2022🎁 FREE on Amazon today (11/23/2022)! 🎁
November 5, 2020
Downstream is a good read from a new Author. It is a dystopian story about a girl trying to find her place in a world that she is unfamiliar with. If you like dystopia genres I think you'll like this book. I was hooked!
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews