Description
On a plastic hallway chair sat a child, legs kicking in the air, clearing the floor by several inches as they swung back and forth. He seemed nervous, I didn't know why. Maybe he was here for an injection. That always made me scared too. I couldn't help but be mesmerized by his black hair and vivid blue eyes, he looked like the night sky. He looked older than me, maybe he was 8 or 9? But his face had an unhealthy look to it and his eyes were hard open as he stared at nothing on the wall. I stopped dead in my tracks and grabbed hold of my Mommy's coat. The boy's legs weren't swinging in a care-free way. Each one was more like a kick, sharp and pointed. I watched my Dad as he crouched down in front of him, letting the boy see his face as he brushed his black bangs from his eyes like he did to me if I had a nightmare. My Dad said something. Then the boy began to cry. It was the first time in four years since I saw Tommy Sinclair. I almost had to grab Harry's coat as I had back then to my mother the first time I ever saw him. He leaned against the sleek black challenger, the color of his hair. His eyes stayed on the sky like a mirror of blue, smoke coiling from his just open lips. Harry had warned me, but I never expected it to be like this. Tommy, now 20 years old looked like a shell of a person. He looked like the child in the chair again. And it was my fault.
PROLOGUE
