Lt. Stanley Travers wants a clear-cut case. This has been anything but, and he soon finds himself embroiled in matters he will never fully understand.
“Is there someone after you?” he asked. “We can provide you protection. Just tell me what happened.”
The girl shook her head violently. “No. No no no no no. You can’t protect me. No one can protect me, not from him.” Her voice trembled. She raised her hand to her mouth and began to chew on a dirty fingernail. “He sees me. He always sees me. Even now.”
I got an absolutely stellar constructive comment on The Billionaire’s Price, but it looks like the commenter removed it!
I desperately wanted to address it, so I guess I’m just gonna put the call out and say that if it was one of you, drop me a message, I’d love to discuss it.
Additionally, I’m going to make some changes to Chapter 1 to reflect the areas of ambiguity pointed out by this comment. This is definitely one of those circumstances where I would have benefited from a more intensive beta process.
I just remembered I posted a Dead Poets Society fic on AO3 and if you’ve seen the movie you should read it. If you haven’t, go watch it first because spoilers for sure. Also what is wrong with you.
The sun had nearly peaked over the horizon when the hunters limped through the manor door. Nicolas watched from the balcony, the teacup in his hand rattling against its saucer, his jaw clenched tight.
Cathy supported Wes’ weight, both of them sprayed with blood, and Father Turpin guided an exhausted and bloodied Leigh over the threshold, his hand on Leigh’s back.
You’re the ‘you’
in my happy poetry,
and that’s like reaching the top
of the stairs
and taking one more step.
You’re my single moment of unexpected freefall.