Debut Novel

Now he is somewhere else, not his room in the corner of his house where he had gone to bed and expected to wake up, and he is no longer a child. He is angry that he left his bed, it was the last sense of place he had, cocooned between sheets. It was of his room, of his home, of a time where senses prevailed.

They stood now, in a standoff and Gainsborough waited, wondering which San Gabriel would emerge. The man who’d instinctively moved to physically protect her, or the other one. It took him a full minute before he spoke.

She had been taught to channel her anger early on, that was an Achilles heel for her, she rose to anger too quickly, more often than not. Yet, those coping mechanisms didn’t work this morning. This was too much of a conflict, if she’d gotten it this wrong then she was back to being little Anneliese Krause compensating, trying to be liked, thrashing around in the dark, and it made her afraid, and Anneliese used anger to beat down fear.