Read Online The Reaping: Language of the Liar by Angella Graff - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Angella Graff
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two British men kidnapped her, told her she was possessed, and performed a ritual on her?
She almost thought she’d hallucinated it all, but she was clutching the pendent in her hand and her wrists still felt heavy with whatever it was Lennox had drawn on her. Forcing herself to calm down, she looked around to see if anything was different.
But it wasn’t. The world was the same. Perhaps Lennox and Dash were lying. Maybe they were as crazy as she was. There was no way to tell, but what Dorian did know was she was determined never to run into them ever again.
Chapter Eight
Amazed the entire altercation with Dash and Lennox had only taken a short while, she still had time to grab her art supplies, deposit her paycheck, and have some lunch before heading back home. And each one of those errands went without incident. In fact, she felt extremely clear and more calm than she had in a long time. Energized even, and that carried with her into the evening as she prepared her lesson plans for the week.
Though she hadn’t heard back from her doctor, Dorian was starting to wonder if she really needed a change in her meds. She was feeling great and centered, and had to wonder if maybe the entire situation with the two British weirdos had been just the thing to shake her back to her old self. Maybe she just needed a good scare.
Whatever it was, she took dinner in the staff hall, made pleasant conversation with a few of the other teachers, and even Father Stone who showed up late told her she looked better. “Definitely more rested,” he said as he passed her table. “Things going well?”
Dorian gave him a rundown of her plans for the classes that week, and he was happy, sending her off with a bounce in her step. She showered, dressed down for the night, and spent another hour at her desk getting everything ready. By ten she was on her evening cup of tea, the television on low volume in the background, and she was curled up in her arm chair enjoying being alone.
Though she felt good, every now and again she glanced at her wrists. In spite of her shower, the symbols hadn’t come off. They faded, like echoes of a permanent marker, and that bothered her a little. A constant reminder she had been taken against her will. That two men on the streets right now thought she was possessed by a demon.
And this wasn’t like the boy in the group home. He was just a screwed up kid, no better and no worse than she was. He’d come from a heavily religious family where he had been subjected to forced chapel and strange healing rituals. It was no wonder he’d come back to the system a little wonky.
Maybe Lennox and Dash were the product of that. Maybe they were the guys Grant would grow up to become? She never saw him after she’d been sent away. After the foster parents had her shipped back, he was long gone, no trace of him left behind. Not that she wanted to see him again. Not after that. Her disappointment was almost tangible and it took her months to get back on a decent regiment of medication.
With a sigh, Dorian decided to turn in. Tomorrow would be the start of a new week, and she was determined to see it through. This was her life now.
Switching off all the lights, she went through her quarters in her usual nightly routine. She checked all the latches on all the doors, making sure they were locked. She secured all the windows with double levers, giving them a good shove to make sure nothing could blow them open. She shut the bathroom door tight as she walked by, double checked the linen closet door, then went into her room.
It was lit with the yellow glow of her desk lamp, the bulb casting an eerie glow on her bed and desk, but she was used to it now. She shut the door, locking the deadbolt Father Stone installed for her, then shut her closet, her bathroom door, and double checked the window to make sure it was properly locked.
As she passed by
She almost thought she’d hallucinated it all, but she was clutching the pendent in her hand and her wrists still felt heavy with whatever it was Lennox had drawn on her. Forcing herself to calm down, she looked around to see if anything was different.
But it wasn’t. The world was the same. Perhaps Lennox and Dash were lying. Maybe they were as crazy as she was. There was no way to tell, but what Dorian did know was she was determined never to run into them ever again.
Chapter Eight
Amazed the entire altercation with Dash and Lennox had only taken a short while, she still had time to grab her art supplies, deposit her paycheck, and have some lunch before heading back home. And each one of those errands went without incident. In fact, she felt extremely clear and more calm than she had in a long time. Energized even, and that carried with her into the evening as she prepared her lesson plans for the week.
Though she hadn’t heard back from her doctor, Dorian was starting to wonder if she really needed a change in her meds. She was feeling great and centered, and had to wonder if maybe the entire situation with the two British weirdos had been just the thing to shake her back to her old self. Maybe she just needed a good scare.
Whatever it was, she took dinner in the staff hall, made pleasant conversation with a few of the other teachers, and even Father Stone who showed up late told her she looked better. “Definitely more rested,” he said as he passed her table. “Things going well?”
Dorian gave him a rundown of her plans for the classes that week, and he was happy, sending her off with a bounce in her step. She showered, dressed down for the night, and spent another hour at her desk getting everything ready. By ten she was on her evening cup of tea, the television on low volume in the background, and she was curled up in her arm chair enjoying being alone.
Though she felt good, every now and again she glanced at her wrists. In spite of her shower, the symbols hadn’t come off. They faded, like echoes of a permanent marker, and that bothered her a little. A constant reminder she had been taken against her will. That two men on the streets right now thought she was possessed by a demon.
And this wasn’t like the boy in the group home. He was just a screwed up kid, no better and no worse than she was. He’d come from a heavily religious family where he had been subjected to forced chapel and strange healing rituals. It was no wonder he’d come back to the system a little wonky.
Maybe Lennox and Dash were the product of that. Maybe they were the guys Grant would grow up to become? She never saw him after she’d been sent away. After the foster parents had her shipped back, he was long gone, no trace of him left behind. Not that she wanted to see him again. Not after that. Her disappointment was almost tangible and it took her months to get back on a decent regiment of medication.
With a sigh, Dorian decided to turn in. Tomorrow would be the start of a new week, and she was determined to see it through. This was her life now.
Switching off all the lights, she went through her quarters in her usual nightly routine. She checked all the latches on all the doors, making sure they were locked. She secured all the windows with double levers, giving them a good shove to make sure nothing could blow them open. She shut the bathroom door tight as she walked by, double checked the linen closet door, then went into her room.
It was lit with the yellow glow of her desk lamp, the bulb casting an eerie glow on her bed and desk, but she was used to it now. She shut the door, locking the deadbolt Father Stone installed for her, then shut her closet, her bathroom door, and double checked the window to make sure it was properly locked.
As she passed by
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