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Albert Camus

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Sunday, June 21, 2015

the cost of the revenge - Tragic Silence by E.C. Hibbs

When tragedy strikes Bianka Farkas one night in her native Hungary, she loses more than a friend and her mobility. Some things are harder to understand. Waking up in a hospital, Bee struggles to remember exactly what happened the night she was attacked and witnessed a brutal murder.

Description:

When tragedy strikes Bianka Farkas one night in her native Hungary, she loses more than a friend and her mobility. Some things are harder to understand. Waking up in a hospital, Bee struggles to remember exactly what happened the night she was attacked and witnessed a brutal murder. Memories of a mysterious figure plague her as well as bizarre and terrifying changes in her over the next few years. Facing this new horrifying reality with a surprising ally, Bee finally has the chance to take her revenge but at what cost?

EXCERPT

In the times I was alone, I tried to make sense of things. As the anaesthetic receded and lucidity gradually returned, I remembered Lucy’s face, her wonderful smile contorted into a hideous scream. Anxiety clenched at my throat, and whenever there was a sudden noise, I almost leapt out of the bed. When the sky darkened I had eyes only for the windows, and trembled in fear. 

He won’t come back. Not when you’re here. You’re safe in the hospital. 

A faint sense of irony flashed in the back of my mind. I’d been convincing myself that Lucy would have been safe here only hours before, and now I was trying to do the same again. I watched the clouds tint red, and the dusk light bled out across the city. The anticipation returned. Time blurred again. I felt the adrenaline, even though I knew there was no point. Fight or flight? Not a great choice to be had. I couldn’t do either. 

The breeze picked up. Perhaps it felt so cold because I was only wearing the surgical gown, but deep down, I knew it was more than that. The fluorescent strip over my bed flickered and then burst out. I made a move to bolt upright, but it sent agony tearing through my back and I collapsed against the pillows. 

Then the mist appeared. From under the gap at the bottom of the door, flowing like ghostly water, came an odourless smoke that stabbed at my lungs. I closed my eyes. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t happening, that somehow I would be safe. That I’d wake up and it would all have been a bad dream.
About the author:
E. C. Hibbs has lived all her life in Cheshire, northwest England. A lover of stories from an early age, she wrote her first 'book' when she was five, and throughout school was a frequent visitor to the younger classes to read her tales to the children.

Living so near the coast, she loves anything to do with the sea. She studied Animal Behaviour at university and longs to work with marine mammals in the future. As well as nature and animals, she also has a soft spot for history, and loves paying visits to castles, cathedrals and museums.

There are many things she could be without, but writing isn't one of them. She carries a pen everywhere, in case an idea appears, and takes pride in still seeing the world as brimming with magic. Besides writing, she reads obsessively, her favourite genres being the classics and all kinds of fantasy. She also enjoys Disney and horror films, practising Shotokan karate, drawing, archery, and playing with her very cheeky kitten.

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