Spark (Stronger #3) - Jay Marie
This is just a special thanks from me to you, and not just for reading this story. By doing so, not only have you helped spread awareness, but you helped donate to a charity that supports victims of human trafficking. This horrific industry is very real and is happening every day, all around the world. With a little help, we can chip away at it until it's nothing but a dusty, dirty stain in our history.
This time, I would really like to thank my fans. You guys have been so patient with me this year and I really appreciate all the love and support. Writing a book while in law school while working a full-time job is not easy, but I did it! And I made it 10,000 words longer than the last book! So, thank you for sticking by me and making this experience my dream come true.
I also want to send out a special thank you to my cousin Tara who spent the entire holiday season on the couch thanks to some extensive back surgery and was still able to beta read for me. Turns out you still have use after all, even if you are just sitting on your ass!
To everyone else who was there to support me in this, I love you so much for it.
Also a super special thanks to my awesome team!
Cover and Web Design by Amanda Simpson - Pixel Mischief Design
Edited by Jenny Sims - Editing 4 Indies
Formatted by Jeff Senter - Indie Formatting Services
Promoted by Ebony Simone McMillan - Author Support Services
Sunshine peered in through the windows. Its warm glow lingered over my face, yet it did nothing to lift my mood like it used to. I had just woken up from another long nap that took up a good third of my day thanks to the heavy meds I was on; though, to be honest, I didn’t want to be awake anyway. The past three weeks had been nothing but torment, and if there was anything that could relieve me of it, it was the deep abyss of my drug-induced slumber. At least, then, I was too numb to remember my nightmares.
Practically shackled to my hospital bed for the first week on this godforsaken island, I’d barely been allowed to move an inch without Darren’s approval. Apparently, he wanted me to get as much rest as possible, so that meant the least amount of movement as possible. And in a way, I was almost grateful… because I had no desire to move even a single muscle. After one week of being bedridden, I had been forced to start moving around again. Apparently, it wasn’t good to simply waste away in my hospital bed. Another lesson in learning my body’s movements were not my own decision.
Every move was painful—even breathing hurt—but apparently, sleeping off my injuries wasn’t in my recovery plan. My wrist, jaw, and ribs might be broken, but according to Darren and Sid, my legs worked just fine. I’d fought back winces and tears as I was forced to walk through the halls of the house, straining against the pain of breath, and showing none of it. I refused to let Darren see my pain. Just because he had broken my body didn’t mean I had to act like it.
My wrist would remain in its cast for the next few weeks, and the wiring in my jaw proved to be the most uncomfortable and humiliating experience ever. I couldn’t really speak. Only mumbles or inaudible sounds could escape my lips, so I eventually just gave up on my vocals altogether. Nurse Ginsby tried to teach me some simple sign language to help me communicate, but I was only interested in using the one containing a single middle finger.
Looking down at my bare left wrist, I found slight enjoyment in the lack of a particular silver cuff on my wrist. There was no need for them here. One was useless without the other, and I was on an island, for fuck’s sake. Where the hell was I going to go? The others remained around my ankles, as did the collar around my neck. Even though I could bypass Darren’s invisible electric fence, the collar itself had a greater purpose than just keeping me within my confines. It was the reminder that I did not belong to myself, that I was not of equal standing… because I still belonged to him, as if the tattoos on my wrists weren’t enough of a reminder.