It’s been a long time coming and many years in the making, but it is time and it is finally here. The pre-order link will be available shortly.
Welcome to my Psychological thriller and romance diology, Her Prison, His Game:
Blurb:
In the middle of a forest, in an unknown location, is a game. A psychological game designed to play with the mind until it breaks.
The man responsible wants fresh meat. Someone who hasn’t experienced the horrors of the real world. He wants to see how long it would take to make them fall apart, to make them wish for death.
Combing the city of Surrey, he spots his next target…a young librarian named Jenna McCay.
Jenna McCay didn’t realize that when you turn 19, the easy life she knew would end, and the horrors of life would set in, in unimaginable ways.
Will she find the strength to survive the game, or will she break before the final curtain falls?
——-
Chapter One
Jenna cringed and dropped her books as a clap of thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the window beside her.
“Miss McCay, if you damage those books, it will come out of your pay cheque,” Ms. Hampton said, her dark eyes narrowing. She had her gray hair tied up in a bun and looked a lot like a scary kindergarten teacher with her dark grey three-piece dress suit. The one that made you hide behind your mother on the first day of school.
“Sorry.” She knelt down to pick up the books, biting her tongue from saying anything more. The woman acted like she owned the library and wouldn’t hesitate to fire her if Jenna responded with a sassy remark. She acted so high and mighty. It wasn’t like she hadn’t dropped a single book in her life.
Wicked ole’ witch!
All Ms. Hampton needed was a broom, and Jenna could envision the old lady flying off into the cloud covered sky. She was probably the one who cast the spell and caused the storm that was pounding the West Coast of British Columbia.
Lightning lit up the room, and she held the books close to her chest, her heart thumping as she waited for the thunder that she knew would come. Damn storm was going to turn her own hair gray before its time. But hopefully she could avoid the grumpy attitude when her time came, unlike the old mistress of the library. Ms. Hampton was probably older than the library itself.
“Teens these days, always careless,” the older woman mumbled as she walked away, shaking her head. Jenna stuck her tongue out at her and then quickly closed her mouth when Ms. Hampton turned to face her. “Just for that, you can clean the children’s area before you go home tonight.”
Definitely a witch!
Children had been coming and going all day. The place was going to be a disaster with garbage everywhere. Even though parents weren’t allowed to bring snacks into the library, they often snuck them in anyway. Why couldn’t Ms. Hampton pick on one of the other girls or Derek even? He could do with cleaning the playpen every once in a while. Especially since he needed to be knocked down a peg or two, always thinking he was mister hotshot.
“Seriously, we work in a library and yet somehow he thinks he’s god’s gift to women,” Jenna mumbled.
Ya. Okay. He had the looks, but his attitude stunk. She couldn’t wait to get away from them both. The only reason she put up with them was because she needed the money. Her plan was to save up and see the world. She didn’t care about cute guys or wasting her entire adult life working in some library. Nothing was going to stop her from fulfilling her dream, not even a beady eyed old grouch who watched her like a hawk.
Placing the last of the books on the shelf, she strolled down a side corridor and entered the children’s section. The place was virtually deserted and had an eerie Alfred Hitchcock feel to it. She hated this time of day, hated it with a passion. But one more year and she’d be free. Walking over to the toddler play area, she plunked herself down in the soft cushioned chair and laid her head back.
“Just another ye—” Jenna didn’t even get a chance to finish her sentence as a loud crack filled the air, shattering the window beside her. She screamed and covered her face. Shards of glass dug into her hands, sharp and painful, like being stung by a colony of bees
The wind howled through the window, blowing the papers off a nearby table. Leaves swirled into the room like mini tornados, making an even bigger mess than before. “Great,” she groaned. “Just great.”
Getting up from the chair, Jenna surveyed the damage. The culprit was a huge branch that broke off a large cedar tree. It was sticking half way through the broken window. Next to her feet, she saw red marks on the carpet. And when she looked at her hands, she could have sworn she dipped them in tomato soup.
Not good!
So not good. The all too familiar woozy feeling washed over her as her head started to spin. “It’s just blood. It’s no big deal,” she said, taking a deep breath in through her nose and then out through her mouth. “I can do this!”
Would she ever outgrow her fear of blood? Cautiously, she stepped over the glass and moved away from the window. “I’m not a kid anymore. A little bit of blood is no big deal,” she mumbled, but her stomach refused to agree as it twisted with nausea. “You aren’t dying, you idiot.”
“What are you doing bleeding on my floor?”
Jumping at the sound of Ms. Hampton’s voice, Jenna turned in her direction, scratching her ankle on the tree branch. Cringing, she came face to face with the woman as a flash of lightning lit up the room. When the adjoining thunder rumbled overhead, she hunched her shoulders. Oh, how she hated storms.
“What happened to my window?” the woman growled. “That one is definitely coming out of your pay cheque.”
“It wasn’t my fault. The wind broke a tree branch,” Jenna said, pointing to the branch on the ground. Its leaves rustling in the wind.
“Don’t you dare sass me, girl.”
“But, Ms. Hampton, I need the money. You can’t charge me for something I—”
“Margaret, darling,” Derek said. “How’s my angel tonight?”
Jenna shrieked at the sound of his voice, her nails digging into her palm. She hadn’t expected anyone else to come barging into the room.
Holy crap.
She really needed a chill pill. Storms always set off her anxiety. All she wanted to do was head home and hide under the covers. The library felt like a crypt with all the spooky shadows lurking around the corners. During the day, it was okay. But in the winter, when it got dark at like four o’clock, it drove her crazy.
Ms. Hampton’s eyes brightened, and she beamed a crooked smile in his direction. “Where have you been hiding?”
“Stuck in the archives,” he said, winking at Jenna.
The hair on her arms stood on end as a shiver rippled through her. She knew exactly what he meant. It was the resident makeout spot, and he had used it to make out with just about every girl in the library. There was a cozy little nook in the back corner that he had claimed as his own.
“Don’t worry about the window. I’ll get a hold of someone to fix it,” Derek said, running a hand through his wayward blond hair, flashing his oh-so-perfect smile.
“Really, dear? You’re such a breath of fresh air. You could teach that girl a thing or two,” the older woman said, pinching his cheeks before walking away.
“And that, sweet Jenna, is how you deal with Ms. Hampton,” he said, sitting down on the arm of a chair.
Jenna rolled her eyes and proceeded to head to the bathroom. It was on the way to the first aid room. She needed to wrap her hand or she’d bleed all the way there. And there was no way she was going to get down on her hands and knees to scrub blood out of the scuzzy green carpet. The crabby old woman would make her do it too.
The building was silent, but not the usual library silence. It was the creepy one that made you feel like someone was watching you. Maybe it was just the storm, but her nerves were on edge more than normal. It was almost closing time so the only people left were some die-hard students cramming for an exam, and the employees who were slowly trickling out, one by one.
As she walked into the bathroom, the door swung closed behind her, leaving her in the dark temporarily. “Stupid automatic lights.”
Soon she heard the hum and the room filled with light, making her jump when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her strawberry blonde hair, more blond than red, was a disaster, bits of glass were stuck in her loose curls. Her clothes were stained with blood. “I’m never wearing a white shirt again.”
Turning on the tap, she ran her hands under the lukewarm water and then examined them carefully. It didn’t look like any of the cuts needed stitches, thankfully. Not that she could get a good glimpse, though. They kept filling with blood faster than she could rinse them.
Grabbing some paper towel, she wrapped her hands and continued her trek to the first aid room. Another collapse of thunder made her jump. “You’re a grown woman, Jenna. Relax.”
She was eighteen, almost nineteen. Her birthday was coming up in just a few short weeks. And yet, some people still thought of her as a kid, despite her having graduated high school earlier in the year. They all kept saying she was stepping into the real world now. Really? What were the last eighteen years of her life? A virtual reality game?
Shaking her head, she unlocked the door to the first aid room and stepped inside. Well, what else did she expect people to think? She couldn’t even get over her fear of thunderstorms and blood. She seemed to be the most nervous person in the world, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Thank you, Mom.”
Her mother would wrap her in bubble wrap if she had the means to do so. That was why Jenna had to get away. She needed to get out and see the world, break free from it all. Her mother’s anxiety most of all. The last thing she wanted was to be afraid of everything for the rest of her life.
A sharp sudden jab of pain from one of her deeper cuts made her cringe. Her hands were going to be hard to hide from her mom. If she saw them, she’d freak out and demand that they go to the emergency room to get them checked out. And then, she would never let Jenna go anywhere again. Maybe there were gloves in her locker.
Scrounging through the cupboards, she searched for a bandage. On the top shelf, she found some gauze and non-stick pads and placed them on the counter. Staring at them, she wondered how on earth she was supposed to wrap her own hands. Both were a mess.
Jenna removed the paper towel from her left hand, carefully peeling it away from the spots where it was sticking to her skin. A stinging sensation crawled across every inch of her hand, her eyes watering in response.
Well, there was one upside to all this. She’d get out of doing dishes for a few days. Oh crap, she groaned. That would mean telling her mom what happened.
As she started to wrap her hand, the lights flickered. “Please don’t go out. Please don’t go out.”
She kept chanting the words over and over. Praying and hoping the electricity would stay on just long enough for her to finish what she was doing and be on her way home.
Cutting a piece of tape, she slapped it on the side of her wrist, securing the bandage in place. She turned her hand over and examined her poor wrapping job. It wouldn’t win any first aid contests, but it should stay on until she got home.
The right hand was going to be a little bit more challenging as she was not left-handed. She was removing the paper towel when she heard a buzzing sound and the lights flickered again. Looking in the mirror on the first aid counter, she noticed that strands of her long hair were pulling away from the rest.
As she was contemplating her whacked out hair style, a loud explosion shook the building, knocking her feet out from under her.
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