I’ve been accused and they’re here to arrest me. A heated conversation ensues, and my neighbors point toward my family’s home.

Peering through the eyehole in our doorway, I see a large group of armed guards banging on my neighbors’ door. I tug on the noose and pull it back over my head. It’s late at night, and this is a secure building in High Society. Voices I don’t recognize creep through the walls.Ĭuriosity overshadows my current thoughts. My thoughts already muddled, I stand waiting with the rope hanging around my neck. He’d be heartbroken if he could see me now.Ī door slams in the hallway, almost causing me to lose my balance. Picturing his face forces me to reconsider my choice. I twist it around to read the inscription. It’s my ring, the last precious gift my father gave me. As I drop my hands, a glimmer catches my eye. I inhale, preparing myself for the finality of it all. I take one last look at the crystal chandelier, the foyer outlined with mirrors, and the flawless decorations. Sweat pours down my back.ĭeath and I glare at each other through my tears. I pull down, making sure the knot is secure.

The rope chafes as I loop it around my neck. I’m buried six feet under, and no one hears my screams. Interior design by Amy Eye at The Eyes for EditingĬover Design by Regina Wamba at MaeIDesign Professional editorial services by The Eyes for Editing The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.Īll rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Copyright © 2013 by Abigail Ketner and Melissa Kalicicki

Hunted by abi ketner