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Prologue Part 2
Sitting up in bed, soaked in her sweat, she knew the dream was real.
The fact the memory kept recurring more and more was a mystery to her. Since that day – ten years ago, she never saw Mr. Bradshaw ever again. By the time she awoke the next morning, the last moving truck was leaving and the house was being boarded up.
Whoever had been in the house, she would never know and she would die before asking her brother about what happened to Mr. Bradshaw.
Now in the present, she longed to know, but never knew how to find the man or the mysterious kisser who had enraptured her soul. She compared every guy to him – the way he held her, the way he touched her, the way he spoke to her and the way he kissed her.
Even now she could feel the wetness between her legs that was not sweat and fought not to touch herself to relieve the sexual stress she had pent up. She knew that would only increase her need for the past and she was trying not to long for those moments anymore.
Yet, nothing every came close and she was always in deep turmoil wondering what could have happened and who was the mysterious man in Mr. Bradshaw’s house.
Had he been old as her? Older? With Mr. Bradshaw way above her age, he could have had an older son or even a younger son, who was nicely built and tall just like his father.
Put it away! It’s the past and nothing can change the past and remembering the past cannot make you feel any better, she told herself.
Dragging her legs off the bed down to touch the ground, she gripped the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. The room was already dark, but for some reason when she closed her eyes, she felt more peace.
How deluded she was to think the past would make her feel better when her world was surrounded by the past and it never made her feel better no matter how much money she tried to throw at it to make it look different.
Trudging to her private bathroom, she relived her bladder and sighed because it was only five hours until she was suppose to get up to go to work.
Being in this place made even sleep miserable.
Maybe I should leave, she suggested to herself – A thought which always hit her in these moments of misery and depression.
Touching the walls that held so many memories, her heart wasn’t in that decision. She wanted to stay because of the past and she wanted to leave because of the past.
Your indecisiveness will be the death of you, Elena.
Trudging back to the bed, she wondered could someone die out of misery. Her father took his life because of his misery and her mother made other lives miserable. What would be Elena’s fate become?
The prospect didn’t sit too well in her soul, but she forced herself to go back to sleep in the sweat drenched sheets too tired to go in the basement to get more sheets.
Hopefully the dream wouldn’t come back tonight. Hopefully she would get some much needed rest.
The dream returned… again.
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