The Prediction (The Jolvix Episodes #1)

by Faith Gardner

I’m an introvert, and that’s a euphemism. This whole crowded scene raises my blood pressure. Secretly, I can’t wait for everyone to leave, to shed this sundress and return to my sweatpants, to escape into a blanket and a book. The party started fifteen minutes ago and I’m already socially exhausted.

Book clubs have never made sense to me. Books are where I go to escape people.

The voice of the robot in the fire system echoes in my brain—danger, danger. It’s like I have a voice like that inside myself. Only I never learned the code to turn it off.

I was preoccupied with the possibility throughout my teenage years that I had a heart condition that I didn’t actually have and often clutched my chest as my pulse quickened, wondering if death was imminent. How do I explain the origin of something within me that has been there always, so much so that often I’ve hardly regarded it as a separate part of me?

One thing about being a generally anxious person is, it’s very hard to tell sometimes if people are thinking negatively of you or if you’re imagining it.

Grief is like lightning. It strikes with a shock of electricity powerful enough to shatter a life into pieces, powerful enough to stop a heart in its place.

There’s a difference between forgiveness and a willingness to keep loving someone despite the pain they’ve caused.

“The moment I saw you I knew I wanted to take care of you,” he said, kissing my head.