Hook, Line, and Sinker Blogfest! Rebel In Remission

Thanks to the amazing Clarissa Draper who critiqued my first chapter over at Listen to the Voices, my Prologue is all shiny and new! You can see the how Clarissa helped me line by line with my unholy mess of a prologue HERE. (And if your smart you'll go sign up, she does first chapter critiques for free!)

My spiffy new prologue is perfect timing for the new Blogfest by Justin at In My Write Mind, Hook, Line, and Sinker! (Go sign up!!)

I know it's early, but I just couldn't wait! This is my entry for Hook Line, and Sinker:

Oh, and p.s. I PROMISE to have some kick ass NEW material up (chapter 6?!) by Monday night or Tuesday!
 While you read consider these questions from Justin:

1.      Who is the character I am relating to?

2.      Does he/she have personality that I crave to read?

3.      Is the world around them set up to compliment the character as they are introduced?

4.      Are there secondary characters to assist the hook along, with conflict and pace?

5.      Lastly: do I loved the character? Do I want to read more about him/her?

Prologue

December

[Alex]

Good God, leaving was a really bad idea. At the time I was pissed off, I just needed to some sleep and a few hours to calm down. I never intended to break it off, but I forgot one crucial detail. Rocky didn’t know that. You’d never believe such a tiny person could do so much damage unless you knew her. I knew her better than anyone, better than she did. But that’s only one part of why I was going back home. More importantly, I was in love with her. And you’d never believe a guy could love such a train wreck unless she’d fallen for you too. And she did. Hard.

       The needle of the speedometer pushed past eighty miles per hour. I would never forgive myself for causing that look on her face. It had been exactly twelve hours since the door slammed behind me, but trust me that was more than enough time. This was a first; there was no telling what I was coming home to.

My crappy Honda Civic took the corner on two wheels as I turned into the parking lot behind the apartment building. Wait. Where is her car? I scanned the lot twice for a black Infiniti, it was gone. It was just after 1:00 in the afternoon, her classes were over, but her car was gone. Alright, sure, there were a million logical places she could be. Nope, not today, I could feel it.

Beer cans and cigarette butts carpeted the lawn, dusted in a thin layer of snow. I glanced anxiously up at the window, hoping to see a pale face scowling down at me, but the blinds were drawn.

      While climbing the stairs I listened for a voice, footsteps, anything. But it was completely silent in the dilapidated hallway. Once I finally reached our floor, the air caught in my chest. There was nothing out of place, but my pulse pounded in my ears and an icy chill was oozing down my spine.

I'd planned to knock, wanting to give her some space, but I was too impatient. The door creaked open when I tried to put the key in. The tension around me was tangible, as if it were a fog seeping from the apartment, escaping under the door and through the hinges.

The anxiety throttled me in the doorway. Was this really our apartment? I had to double check the door to be sure.

Once my eyes adjusted to the dim light and the heavy haze that clouded my vision, I saw the beer cans, empty bottles of liquor, and overflowing ashtrays that littered the living room floor. And it reeked, the odor was heavy, sort of like incense. It was an unfamiliar smell, but I had a pretty good guess.

The fog that seeped through the door was actually marijuana smoke – that continued to curl lazily into the air – from dozens of joints.

My eyes trailed the wreckage, this was not the kind of disaster I'd been bracing myself for. The dogs low whining startled me, I followed the sound to the open bathroom door where a pair of pale white feet splayed awkwardly out into the hallway.

Oh my god. No. I crashed to my knees as the rest of her body came into view. My girlfriend was curled into a loose fetal position on the bathroom floor, her limp hands folded close to her chest. Somehow her pale skin looked even whiter than usual, almost completely devoid of color.

        Our bulldog Frank lay at her side, his muzzle nudging her face. He whined again, louder this time, begging her to wake up. Her dark hair was a tangled mess that covered her face. When I brushed it over her shoulder my stomach turned. Her eyes were closed and her lips were pale blue. My hands shook when I touched her face. I had to swallow back the acid rising in my throat, her body was ice cold.

“No. . .” The weight of reality crushed me, my elbows buckled. Burying my face in her hair, I pleaded her, “Come on, please wake up!” but my voice was barely audible. My eyes were stinging.

        I listened desperately for the sound of her breath, her heart beat. But I could hear nothing over the ringing in my ears.

        As I stared hopelessly into her face a tear fell from my chin and landed on her lower lip. When my finger touched her lip to wipe it away, her eyelids twitched. Her eyes were unfocused, with pupils so dilated that only a thin blue ring remained. I collapsed, my face just an inch from hers, too stunned to speak. Her lips pulled up slightly in the corners. She could see me.

Beneath my chest I felt the movement of her lungs pulling in a weak breath, “You came back.” She could barely move her mouth.

“I'm here, I'm here!” I stammered, trying desperately to keep her conscious.

She sighed contently, even as she lay there half dead on the bathroom floor. Her tiny hands nudged my arm so lightly I might not have felt it, but her skin was so cold that the contact made me shiver.

A thin silver chain was laced between her fingers. With her hand in mine, I unfolded her fist. The steel crucifix of my rosary fell to the floor with a thud.

When I looked up at her again, her eyelids were closed. 

That's my prologue : ) Thanks for reading and feel free to rip me limb from limb, I need it.