Eternal Rains: A Dystopian Trilogy (BOUND Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Eternal Rains

  Get A FREE Book!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  One More Thing

  Doug McGovern

  Rights & Disclaimer

  THE BOUND TRILOGY

  BOOK 1:

  Eternal Rains

  By

  Doug McGovern

  Get A FREE Book!

  At the end of this book, you’ll find an offer to join my mailing list. Grab it! You’ll not only receive updates & special offers on my books, but I’ll also send you a FREE STORY as a bonus for signing up! I’ll also tell you more about joining my Street Team, through which you can receive FREE COPIES of my books in return for honest reviews! It’ll be a blast!

  Chapter 1

  It’s become a normal occurrence for my family and everyone associated with my family. In fact, my ears have become finely tuned instruments that are always on the lookout for Charlie’s telltale signs. Whether it be a small snort in her sleep or a violent jerk of her sheets in the middle of the night, my body has been trained to react appropriately.

  But this time, I don’t catch the sign until Charlie is already on the floor beside my bed, seizing violently. All remnants of sleep leave me as I jump to the floor beside my sister and turn her on her side, placing my hand between her head and the carpeted floor. My parents’ feet patter up the steps and in the direction of our room. Mom holds a syringe and dad stands behind her, evidently not yet awake.

  “How long?” Mom asks, coming to my side and laying a hand on my shoulder.

  “Only seventeen seconds,” I reply, keeping a mental count. “The seizure is slowing down. She won’t need that,” I say, glaring at the medication in my mother’s hand. Charlie’s longest seizures typically last only two minutes and the shorter ones are a blessing.

  Charlie’s movements slow and her shaking decreases to a short spasm. I move my hand from under her head and stroke her curly blonde hair away from her sweat drenched forehead. Seizures in her sleep are always the worst, which is the reason we share a bedroom. She can’t control when one will happen or get in a safe position to prevent further injury.

  “You can go back to bed, dad,” I say. “She’s fine.”

  Dad smiles and nods his head. He walks in my direction and kisses the top of my head, then moms, and then looks at Charlie with a sad smile. “Love you, Charles,” he says, petting her head as if she’s an animal. She is still too far out of reality to notice his presence.

  I lean back against my bed and watch my sister tremor and inhale spurts of air before expelling them rapidly. Mom picks up Charlie carefully and lies her on her bed before tucking the covers around her carefully. Charlie lies motionless, but her uneven breathing indicates that she’ll wake soon, and when she does, she won’t feel well. Seizures take a lot out of her and she always needs plenty of time to recoup.

  “Will you call your sister off school, Jo?” Mom asks, sitting beside her bed.

  I nod and reach for my phone. I dial the number that I have dialed dozens of other times. When the phone begins ringing, I glance at Charlie. Her eyes are open and she looks like she’s in so much pain, but she won’t admit it. She never does. “Buckhorn High School,” the secretary answers.

  “Hey, Mrs. Lowers. Charlie won’t be in today. She had another fit this morning,” I explain.

  “Oh, Jo, give that poor girl my love. Will you be in?” She asks.

  “Yeah, it’s mom’s day off work. I’ll be there.” Charlie closes her eyes and shoves her face into her pillow.

  “Alright sweetie, have a nice day.” I throw my phone on my bed and smile at Charlie. She forces a smile and goes for the bucket beside her bed.

  I turn my attention to the window alongside Charlie’s bed and examine the sky. The stars are fading with the steadily intensifying morning light. In town, the stars aren’t bright or magnificent; they are subtle and barely noticeable. I have always been interested in stars. Something about them fascinates me in a way that nothing else can.

  I shake myself out of my daze and glance at my sister. With a sigh, I leave the room. It’s been a typical morning in the Jacobs household.

  *****

  Chapter 2

  “Another one?” Lydia asks as she catapults herself into my car.

  “It wasn’t so bad this morning. It took a lot out of her, but she stopped seizing after about thirty seconds,” I explain, taking the keys out of my car.

  “She could have probably come to school today, right?” Lydia asks. She doesn’t understand what a seizure—even a small one—entails.

  I shake my head. “No. Imagine your entire body tightening and shaking uncontrollably for any amount of time. And no matter how much you fight it, it doesn’t stop. When it happens, Charlie is exhausted and sick for a bit. We find it best to not over-exert her remaining energy.”

  Lydia flips her long black hair over her shoulder and fixes the half bun on the top of her head. “I don’t know how she does it,” she says, sitting back in the passenger’s seat of my car.

  “She’s really strong. I’m going and getting her a sub after school if you want to join,” I say, absentmindedly twirling the leather bracelet on my wrist. It contains an intricate design winding around a single letter: C. Charlie wears the same one, but with my initial.

  “I wish I could, but mom planned some sort of family evening and I’m not allowed to go anywhere,” Lydia groans.

  “Didn’t you just have a family evening last weeks? And a family game night on Monday?”

  Lydia rolls her eyes dramatically. “You know my mom. ‘Family bonding is the beginning to a long and fruitful life’ or something like that.” I can almost envision her mom saying those words verbatim.

  “Maybe this weekend or something,” I suggest.

  “Yeah, but I promised I’d help Mom garden on Saturday. All the snow this winter killed everything and she’s been stressing about it,” Lydia groans. As much as she complains about her mom’s persistence, I know that she loves it.

  “Just let me know when you’re not busy. Charlie misses hanging out with you, too.” My attention is drawn to my rearview mirror when a flash of blue crosses behind my car. I turn around and tilt my head, examining the area behind my car through the back window.

  “What is it, Jo?” Lydia asks, turning her body to face the back window.

  I open my mouth to respond when a crash from outside shakes my car. Lydia and I squeal and fling ourselves as far to her side of the car as possible. With wide eyes and a gaping mouth, I look out my window and the terrified expression on my face is replaced with a scowl.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I hiss, grinding my teeth.

  “I’m going to kill him,” Lydia growls, flinging open her car door.

  “Romo,” I shout as soon as my door is cracked. He stands a few feet away, hands on his knees and shoulders shaking. “You think this is funny?” I ask. “You thin
k body slamming my car is funny?”

  My voice escalated with every word and Lydia charges in his direction like a wild bull on a mission. “You should have seen your faces,” he shouts, voice shaking with unrestrained laughter.

  Romo finally stands straight and takes a deep breath just in time for Lydia to barrel into him, pushing him to the worn pavement. “Jackass,” she mumbles before running into the school. Romo stares at her with wide eyes as she walks away and I strut in his direction, not offering him any form of assistance.

  “What is wrong with your friend?” He asks. Lydia has never liked Romo and he’s never liked her.

  “You’re a douche, that’s what’s wrong,” I exclaim.

  “It was a joke,” he argues, pushing himself from the pavement easily enough. He brushes off his clothes to remove loose pebbles and grains of dirt.

  “Yeah, I know,” I reply. “We’re just a little shaken today. Charlie had another seizure this morning.”

  Romo immediately looks remorseful. “That’s why she’s not here today?” He asks. I nod and grab my bag from the car before placing the keys around my neck. “Was it a long one?”

  “It was only about thirty seconds, but she’s not feeling too well. She fell out of bed and may have hit her head,” I explain. When Charlie has a seizure—and she has them weekly—I must explain the details numerous times throughout the day to her friends and mine. It’s hard for everyone.

  “Karter’s going to take it hard,” Romo says, following me toward the school. Karter is her best friend and most definitely has feelings for her. He was on the football team with Romo and me.

  “Karter always takes it hard. I’m sure he’ll come over and stay with her for a while tonight,” I shrug.

  “Does she know how much he likes her?” Romo asks, opening the door for me.

  “She has no idea,” I laugh, walking through the first set of doors and holding the second set open for Romo.

  Romo walks me to my locker and we greet a few of our fellow seniors along the way. I open my locker and he runs off to break the news to Karter. I feel terrible for Karter. He’s been in love with my sister for as long as I can remember, but she’s never shown any romantic interest in him. She’s clueless.

  I go through the motions of the day and text mom periodically to check on Charlie. By the time school is over, I am one of the first people in the parking lot and I peel away as the rest of the students exit the building.

  Downtown is extra busy every day after school and I am instantly stuck behind someone going half the speed limit. I lean back in my seat and roll my eyes at their caution. By the time I reach the sub joint, I am running five minutes later than I should have been and I whip my car into a front row spot. Cars fly by and honks echo through town in the middle of rush hour. I lock my car and strut into the small shop.

  I inhale deeply and allow the scent of freshly baked bread and herbs to calm my apparent road rage. “Jo,” the woman in the front of the shop greets. The people scattered throughout the joint look in my direction and then back at their food, realizing that I am not as exciting as the food in front of them. “Charlie again?” She asks, reaching for my usual ingredients.

  “Yeah, but she’s alright.” I find it astonishing that the entire town knows about my little sister’s condition and supports her. She’s instantly lovable and I have never met another human being who doesn’t adore her.

  The woman works diligently on the sub and hands it over the counter. I slide her a crisp five-dollar bill and she accepts my payment with sad eyes. “Tell that girl to take care of herself, you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, throwing my hand up and exiting the sub shop.

  Driving home, my mind isn’t on the road. In fact, it’s anywhere but the road, so when the car in front of me slams on their breaks and comes to a quick stop, I nearly hit their back bumper. I groan and grab Charlie’s sub from my floorboard and throw it on my passenger’s seat. I lay my hand on my horn. When the car’s tires turn and the go through the other lane to go around something, I follow suit. I turn my wheel, tap on my gas and follow, not paying attention to what they hit.

  When the road obstacle stands and holds his side, I gasp and slam on my breaks.

  *****

  Chapter 3

  I don’t even think about the keys I leave in my ignition. I grab ahold of my door handle and force the door open with a quickness I didn’t know I had. The man stands tall—much taller than me, even slouching. Cars begin piling in the road behind him and honking impatiently. A few of them swerve around us and I can’t fathom how they could do such a thing when this man is clearly hurt in some way.

  “Sir, are you okay?” I ask, unable to see his face, which is cast downward in an expression that I assume mimics pain. “Um, did that car hit you?” I ask.

  When he looks in my direction, I gasp. His body looks like one of a fully-grown man, but his face is young, likely my age or slightly older. His eyes are the most distinguishable feature, even from feet away. They are a swirl of charcoal and bright blue, almost as if they are a galaxy captured in a single moment of stillness.

  I shake myself out a daze and walk in his direction, glancing at his side. “Do I need to call an ambulance?” I ask, stopping about two feet from him. He’s a perfect stranger, but something in me trusts that he won’t be a danger toward me.

  His eyes, which have not yet wavered from my face, move back to his side. “What is an ambulance?” He asks. I laugh and take another step toward him.

  “So, you’re not hurt?” I ask. I assume he’s joking, but when I consider his eyes, I notice genuine confusion. “Do you need a doctor?” I rephrase.

  “I’ll heal,” he states as if it’s common sense. Cars honk behind him and he doesn’t pay them any attention.

  “Can I see it?” I ask, looking at the area on his side which he is holding. He immediately releases his side and I notice blood stains seeping through his white T-shirt. I lift the shirt gently and he watches me with complete trust. His tanned skin is covered in blood and I can see signs of deep scraped underneath the pools of blood. I look up with wide eyes. My many years of hunting have prevented me from being queasy at the sight of blood, but there is a lot of it.

  “Do I need a doctor?” He asks, unsure.

  “I think so,” I admit. I look up at the traffic and realize that it’s backed all the way down the street and around the corner. “Come with me,” I order. He doesn’t hesitate to listen to me or follow me to my car. I jump into the driver’s seat and he slides into the passenger’s seat, moving Charlie’s sub to the side. His blood is dripping onto my fabric seats, but I find it irrelevant. “Keep pressure on that.”

  “Are you a doctor?” He asks. I chuckle and shake my head, taking off down the street quickly. I could take him to the hospital, but my house is merely a block away, which is much closer.

  “I’m not a doctor,” I say. “But my mom’s a nurse and she can take care of that,” I promise. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s still staring at me. “What’s your name?” I ask to break the tension.

  “I’m Hayden,” he says. “Are you Charlie?” He asks. I furrow my brow and slow for a stoplight ahead.

  “No. How do you know Charlie?” I ask. We look similar with blond hair and similar frames, but we haven’t ever been mistaken for one another. Her hair is made of long untamable curls and mine is long and pin straight. Her eyes are brown and mine are hazel. She has flawless skin and I have freckles spread over my nose and cheeks. We are very noticeably different people.

  “This bag says Charlie,” he says, holding up her sub bag. I didn’t notice the note on the bag, but it’s addressed to Charlie.

  I shake my head, loosening my grip on the steering wheel. “Charlie is my sister. I’m Jo Leigh, but you can just call me Jo.”

  “Is your middle name Leigh or is that part of your given name?” He asks.

  I narrow my eyes and think about the question. I’ve never been
asked that before. “Well, Jo Leigh is two words, but it’s my full first name. I don’t have a middle name, so I consider Leigh my middle name. I usually just go by Jo.”

  “May I call you by your full first name?” He asks.

  I snicker at Hayden’s strange antics. The light turns green and I make a right turn, checking on his injury in the process. Blood is soaking through the shirt more quickly. “If you’d like to call me by my full first name, go ahead, but it’s too long. It’s just inconvenient.”

  Hayden tilts his head and looks out the front windshield for the first time since being in the car. “It has the same number of syllables as my name,” he states factually.

  I think about what he’s saying and mentally count the syllables. “I guess you’re right.” I pull into my driveway and unfasten my seatbelt. “Stay there,” I order. He nods and I come to his side of the car and open the door for him. “Can I see that again?”

  Hayden’s brows furrow and he looks down at his side. “No,” he replies. I tilt my head and reach for his shirt, but he takes a step backward.

  “Hayden, you need to get this looked at and I just want to see if it stopped bleeding,” I explain to him, reaching for the shirt quickly. He’s unable to pull away in time as I lift it.

  At first it seems like it’s just as it was before. But after a second more of looking, I realize that the scratched and gashes seem to have disappeared. All that’s left is the blood. “Whoa, what?” I say, feeling his side. He yanks his shirt backward and pulls it down.

  Without another word, Hayden turns and walks away from me. I don’t know whether to stop him or let him go, but my body’s inability to move makes the decision for me. He disappears around the neighbor’s house and I stand in the middle of my yard stupidly, wondering if any of this was real.

  I shake my head and walk toward my little car. I reach into the passenger’s seat and grab Charlie’s sub. As I stare at the seat, I realize that the faint drops of blood are the only things that prove Hayden is real. They prove that I didn’t make up the perfect dark haired boy with a wound that mysteriously disappeared from his body in a matter of minutes.