Hello Lovelies! As promised, let me introduce you to a novel I have set to publish mid 2021. I will be announcing the official title reveal, cover reveal and publication info in January! I have decided to opt out of giving you the synopsis because I want to hear your feedback without knowing exactly what the book is about. Making an unauthorized copy of these chapters will infringe copyright therefore all rights are reserved. Without further ado, here's an advanced sneak peak into Project C!
“Matthew, darling, what have we talked about? Please sit down and give your mother some peace.”
I stare at the red-headed old hag in a white coat dumbfoundedly. Every Tuesday she looks the same; wrinkly, unkept, unwell and overall has a strong odor of BO. If I could guess, she’s in her late 60’s, but she believes she’s superior to everyone else all because she’s got the title “brain surgeon.”
“If you would fix my mommy, you wouldn’t have to worry about me,” I reply, taking a seat in the hard-plastic hospital chair.
“Don’t you think I’m trying my hardest, little one? Your mom is very special to me and I aim to please.” I fiddle with the zipper to my jacket.
“Well you’re not pleasing me.”
Ms. Angie looks at me in sadness. She takes her hand and pushed my hair back on my forehead.
“I promise you; I am trying.”
I refuse to look at her. I hear it every time. I don’t know what’s wrong with my mommy, but I do know it’s serious. Serious enough that my dad is actually staying home and coming to doctor’s appointments with us. He never does that.
I hear my mom at night when she tells him he doesn’t have to come. I hear the defeat and sadness in his answer. I hear every cry. Sometimes they cry together. But I also don’t know what to believe. My mommy tells me she’s fine, but I don’t know if that’s true. She wouldn’t lie to me, would she? She’s my mommy. Mommy’s never lie.
I stare at the red-headed old hag in a white coat dumbfoundedly. Every Tuesday she looks the same; wrinkly, unkept, unwell and overall has a strong odor of BO. If I could guess, she’s in her late 60’s, but she believes she’s superior to everyone else all because she’s got the title “brain surgeon.”
“If you would fix my mommy, you wouldn’t have to worry about me,” I reply, taking a seat in the hard-plastic hospital chair.
“Don’t you think I’m trying my hardest, little one? Your mom is very special to me and I aim to please.” I fiddle with the zipper to my jacket.
“Well you’re not pleasing me.”
Ms. Angie looks at me in sadness. She takes her hand and pushed my hair back on my forehead.
“I promise you; I am trying.”
I refuse to look at her. I hear it every time. I don’t know what’s wrong with my mommy, but I do know it’s serious. Serious enough that my dad is actually staying home and coming to doctor’s appointments with us. He never does that.
I hear my mom at night when she tells him he doesn’t have to come. I hear the defeat and sadness in his answer. I hear every cry. Sometimes they cry together. But I also don’t know what to believe. My mommy tells me she’s fine, but I don’t know if that’s true. She wouldn’t lie to me, would she? She’s my mommy. Mommy’s never lie.
