Power (Book 1)

retty much everything I've lived through Dickens o

er her death, and another friend was tragically forced into prison to protect herself even as the victim of a crime, you might believe both women's stories

If I wanted to die life gave me more than a few opportunities to do so and each time I fought like hell to stay. Why? I suppose answ

for money at a cost to all else, stopped looking for love or a good time with multiple faces. I got rid of the people who called themselve

s you perspective. It just bored me to tears. Hell, there's a reason why rich people go to Nepalese retreats to meditate and think things over...have you ever seen the staff at thos

azingly and terrifyingly beautiful to behold, anchored to the ground with rusting bolts. Like the baboon, the locals ignore me, the tour

un to be a work of pu

where statues became human. Swimming my way back to life, I guess, but I couldn't go into the pond I'd dwelled

t, sure, but strange enough to always keep me wondering and slightly agoraphobic. It rose because I was between landlords, the old ones having sold

st, a dreaded knock came. My heart pounded and I tried to remind myself no matter which villain of my past or unknown of my future it was, I could

st after noon and I still wore pajamas. I'd begun to treat every

cond, and when she smiled she was both. Her hair was long and dark blonde, and she was dressed in

lo,

roucho. Stupid, I know, but I was both a grump and a Marx brother fan, and the nicknam

es

ra Joeson. Ma

g familiar about her in a distant way, but no go

d out here, I'd

ms and tried to look imposing, but in her bare feet sh

about yo

rs was my mother, had died. Just one year ago a strange woman called and explained she was my real mother. It was complicated

don

or the one who

tened. "I'd really rath

on't. State your

mething few people ever tried with me. "You