DELIVER US FROM EVIL TRILOGY
Thy Kingdom Come
Into Temptation
Deliver Us From Evil
IN LOVE AND WAR
North of the Stars
Fall of the Stars
REVENGE IS SWEET SERIES
Crybaby
HEART MEMORY TRANSFER DUET
Heart Sick
STANDALONE
Mr. Write
Chase the Butterflies
Beyond the Roses
Someone Else’s Shadow
HEART SICK is a DARK ROMANCE containing mature themes that might make some readers uncomfortable. It contains violence, attempted suicide, death, drug use, medical procedures, psychological treatments, misuse of a corpse, blood gore, and some dark and disturbing scenes. In no way, shape, or form is the author glorifying any of the situations or circumstances in this book.
There is no cruelty to animals.
You’ve been warned…
“Sweetie, he’s gone.”
Those words play on a loop—over and over again.
But they can’t be real, because what sort of world would cut short the life of a twenty-three-year-old man who had his whole future ahead of him?
A cruel fucking world I want to burn to the ground.
When I feel the gentle hands of my best friend, Joy McNelly, attempting to pry me away, my body switches to fight or flight mode, but at the forefront is fight because no one, no one is taking me away from my…son.
My son who lies in this sterile hospital bed…brain dead at age twenty-three.
“No!” I scream over and over again. This has to be a bad dream.
“Mom, it’ll be okay. I’ve got you. It’ll be okay.” That’s what Misha would say. He always knows what to say to calm me down.
It’s only been us since Misha was born, as his father left the day I told him I was pregnant.
I was fifteen, almost sixteen. A young girl who shamed her devout Catholic family by having a baby out of wedlock. But it was even more shameful having an abortion. I was sent away to reform school for deviant girls like me to have Misha in secrecy.
The moment he was born, I lovingly counted his ten fingers. I kissed his ten perfect toes. I knew then and there what my purpose was, and that was to be his mother. I didn’t care that my family would disown me because it was decided by them that I was to put Misha up for adoption.
But the moment I saw him, I knew I had met the love of my life, and I would do everything in my power to protect and love him unconditionally.
I brought Misha home and thought my parents would also fall in love. How couldn’t they? He was perfect with his blond hair, blue eyes, and cherub cheeks. He was an angel sent from God.
But when my father dropped dead from a heart attack the moment he set eyes on his grandson, my mother only saw Misha as a punishment sent from the heavens to chasten her for raising a daughter with loose morals.
She threw Misha and me out, convinced this is what her God would want. This was her atoning for her sins, and it was from that day forward that I renounced religion because what sort of God would be so cruel?
Is this my punishment for turning my back on a God which has never shown me any mercy?
“I’ll get your medication. You rest,” Misha had said as he kissed my forehead before grabbing my car keys from the coffee table.
I was sick with the flu and needed the medication my doctor prescribed me. Misha offered to get them for me. If only I insisted he didn’t go, none of this would be happening. If only he stayed home…
He had his whole life ahead of him, and I know he would have accomplished great things.
He was playing college football and the scouts saw that he was something special. But I already knew that. My Misha would have changed the world.
But he never got to reach his full potential, thanks to a driver who veered onto the wrong side of the road. Misha didn’t stand a chance. The driver fled, while here he is…my beautiful boy, kept “alive” by these machines where each beep taunts me with everything that I’ve lost.
I link my fingers through Misha’s. He’s still warm.
“Ms. Huxley, I’m Dr. Sterling. My colleague and I have looked at Misha’s scans, and I’m afraid the swelling in his brain has just worsened. These machines are the only things keeping him alive. His brain activity is—”
I go to a better place, a place where Misha is alive and well, where he is playing professional football, where he is everyone’s hero and not just mine. I see his children. A boy and a girl with blue eyes just like their daddy.
I hold my grandchildren with love and pride because family is the only thing that matters. I’ve not spoken to my family in years because if they didn’t accept my son, then they didn’t accept me. And we didn’t need them anyway.
Misha lived on campus, but he often visited as our home wasn’t far from school. We lived in an expensive neighborhood and could afford lavish things because I busted my ass to provide for my son. But I didn’t mind.
I learned early on that men would do almost anything for a damsel in distress. And a young damsel in distress, well, she could get anything she wanted. I was a homeless, teenage, single mom. Desperate times called for desperate measures and I don’t regret a thing.
I learned that women are the superior sex, and I used that to provide for me and Misha.
I worked as an exotic dancer, or as most would say, a stripper, until one photographer who was thirty years my senior asked if he could take photos. I agreed, for the right price, of course. It turns out he was a photographer for a popular men’s magazine and that was when I was “discovered.”
Before I knew it, I was the most popular centerfold girl in all of America. But I never forgot why I was doing this—everything I did was for Misha.
I now work for that men’s magazine, recruiting models. My modeling days are over. But I offer my experience to newbies who were just like me. Most times, there are no magical potions. Just pure luck.