Seeing Black
Authors: Sidney Halston
Tags: #scifi, #suspense, #paranormal, #sex, #twins, #psychic, #alpha, #new adult
Sidney Halston
Seeing Black
Sidney Halston
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2013 Sidney Halston
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is
entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your
personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given
away to other people. If you would like to share this book with
another person, please purchase an additional copy for each
recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or
it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to
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the hard work of this author.
Edited by Theresa Wegand
I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was
I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can
remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the
next question is 'Who in the world
am I
?' Ah, that's the great
puzzle!
-
Alice from Alice in
Wonderland
Jillian walked into her bedroom
right after breakfast. She instinctively walked straight to the bed
and reached between the mattress and the box spring. Tucked deep in
the center was a thin and tattered leather-bound journal with the
initials PB inscribed on the lower right hand corner. Somewhere,
hidden within her subconscious, she knew she had to read this
journal. Why? She wasn’t sure. In fact, she couldn’t comprehend how
she’d even known it was there. But it was there, hidden, calling
for her, and she had to read it. Why? Because Jill couldn’t
remember who she was.
Nervous, confused, she opened the journal to the
first page.
Jillian,
I know you’re confused, but this journal should help
you remember in your moments of haziness. These are the important
facts that you need to know, and you must make every effort to
remember.
You’re imprisoned at Rocco’s home! Even if you think
you can escape—you can’t. Surely, you woke up wonderfully relaxed,
yet you don’t know why you’re there. You know every maid, butler,
ranch hand, and doctor that you come across today, yet you won’t
know how you know them. All you remember is that you arrived at the
mansion yesterday. You’ve had no connection with anyone, not
Xander, not Oly, not Heather. No one!
Your name is Jillian Stone. Say it out loud, not too
loud or you’ll be heard. I am Jillian Stone. Repeat it. You were
marooned on a deserted island from the time you were one month old
until you were rescued and subsequently sent to boarding school at
the age of twelve. Your mother, Esther, died on impact, and until
recently, you had never known your father, Rocco Taylor. Helen,
your mother’s sister, raised you and your best friends, Alexander
and Oliver Jacobs. Alexander is your boyfriend, but boyfriend
doesn’t quite cover it. It’s too tame a word. He’s your lover and
best friend; he’s your everything. This is something I don’t need
to write because you remember. Just close your eyes and think about
him, and you’ll remember. Reach out for him with your soul, and
you’ll find him because not one day have you forgotten about
Alexander. A tinge of pain in your heart, a breathless moment, the
sight of the blue ocean that reminds you of his eyes—something
always brings your thoughts back to him even if only briefly. There
are a lot of important blanks to fill in, but the most important
thing you need to remember right now is that you have to make an
effort every day to remember who you are, who I am.
If you have any questions about this journal or
doubt that you wrote it yourself, keep reading and add to it. Add
something that makes you feel at home, something that keeps you
grounded, something about Helen. Add to it every day because it
will help keep you focused.
Jillian
With bated breath, Jill nervously turned to the next
page.
Jill, remember who you are. These are some words
from the woman who had always helped guide you along the way.
Life is for
most of us a continuous process of getting used to things we hadn't
expected.
-Helen
Then the next page . .
.
It’s amazing how someone can break
your heart but you still love them with all the broken little
pieces.
-Helen
There was page after page of quotations, sayings and
entries full of words and stories. Reading it would take hours. The
amount was overwhelming, and each quotation or entry seemed to be
written on different days.
How long had she been there?
Jill
hugged the journal. She clung to it for support—mental and
physical. Her mouth agape, she whispered, “Helen.” That was her way
home.
Even now, five years after her death, Helen’s
sayings kept her centered. She continued reading. There were funny
sayings, cute sayings, insightful sayings, and everything in
between. Every time she read one, she remembered more—mustered more
strength—became more Jillian and less some helpless person she
didn’t recognize, a shell without control of her thoughts. Right
before she closed the journal and tucked it back under her
mattress, she grabbed the pen on top of her nightstand, flipped to
the next empty page, and, as instructed, added:
You can close your eyes to things
you don't want to see, but you can't close your heart to the things
you don't want to feel.
-Helen
She may not remember much, but in her mind’s eye,
she remembered Helen’s sayings, and suddenly she knew where she was
and who she was, and what she was, was scared.
Terrified.
Jillian
Months earlier . . .
Live life so completely that when
death comes to you like a thief in the night there will be nothing
left for him to steal.
-Helen
What a difference a day makes! Actually, four
days.
In the last four days, Jillian had returned to the
island she’d grown up on after twelve years, met her psychic
father, finally realized she was in love with Alexander instead of
his twin brother Oliver, discovered that Paul was a psycho-liar who
had used her to get to Rocco, and most frighteningly, she had been
blackmailed in her own mind! On top of the already monumental
amount of stress, she had missed two days of school, which was
driving her mad, it was almost midnight after traveling almost
eighteen hours, and she had to wake up the next morning at six to
be in class massively jetlagged.
As she unpacked, she thought about the very eventful
trip back to the island. Although she should have been
worried—worried being an understatement—that one of her father’s
henchmen was trying to intimidate her into visiting Rocco as soon
as she returned, she refused to focus on that at the moment. A
smile penetrated her worry when she thought about Alexander. She
was still feeling the lingering effects of his goodbye kisses when
he’d dropped her off just an hour ago: a soft whisper of a kiss
below her ear, another one on her forehead, one on her cheek,
another on the small indentation under her throat, and then finally
a long lust-filled kiss on her lips. The tingle still lingered in
each spot.
“Are you decent?” Heather asked from the other side
of Jill’s bedroom door.
“As if that mattered, come in,” Jill replied.
Heather swung Jill’s bedroom door open and, with the
normal spring in her step, plopped herself on Jill’s bed. “Oh,
honey, please, get that stupid grin off your face. It’s getting
repulsive. You know how when you eat chocolate cake it’s delicious
and yummy but after a while it can get a little nauseating because
it’s just too rich?”
Jill nodded, eyebrows furrowed. “Yes. Your point
being?”
“Honey, you’re that chocolate cake. I love seeing
you happy, but please, just stop. It’s nauseating already.” She
grabbed one of Jill’s pillows and playfully threw it at her.
“So you’re here specifically to rain on my
parade?”
“No. I’m here to talk about the long overdue
surprise birthday party for Alex and Oliver.”
“Now? It’s close to midnight. I’m so tired. Can’t we
talk about it tomorrow. Their birthday was a month ago. I’m sure
they can wait an extra day.”
“Noooo,” Heather whined. “I’m super hyper. I’m too
wound up. I can’t sleep. Let’s talk about the party.”
“I don’t know, Heather. I don’t even think they’re
big birthday-party kind of guys. How can you have so much energy?
I’m dreading this mountain of laundry.”
“Stop doing laundry, then.” Heather said it as if it
was the most obvious thing in the world. It hadn’t even occurred to
Jill not to do laundry as soon as she got back.
Damn, screw
laundry
! How liberating, she thought. Laundry could wait. Sleep
couldn’t, but laundry? Yep, it could wait.
“You’re right. Laundry can wait. I’m going to shower
and go to bed.”
Heather pouted. “Wait. The party. Let’s talk about
the party. Oliver promised. He said once he healed from the
accident I could throw him a party. The accident and his birthday
happened almost a month ago. Between his healing and all your daddy
drama, we—”
“Hey! I don’t have daddy drama.”
“Oh, sugar. You have more daddy drama than an
episode of the Maury Povich show, but that’s not the point. The
point is Oliver’s healed, and we can’t just ignore their birthdays.
You only turn twenty-three once. Come on, please, pretty please.”
She bounced on her knees on Jill’s bed while displaying her best
puppy-dog face.
“Fine, Heather. Count me in. What’s the plan?”
“Eek!” She looked like a circus seal as she bounced
up and down, clapping. Jill shook her head and laughed. “I’m
thinking this weekend. We’ll surprise them. We can have it right
here. You can invite some of y’all’s friends from school and some
of my friends too. We’ll keep it small—fifty people max.”
“This weekend! Fifty people!” Jill squealed. “I
won’t be recovered from this crazy trip by then. It’s practically
Tuesday now. That only leaves three days to plan, and fifty people?
That’s not small. That’s a lot of people. I don’t think we even
know fifty people.”
“Fifty people is nothing. My parties back home were
never less than a hundred people: close family and friends of Mama
and Daddy plus my friends. I remember one big ol’ party we had when
I was five. The theme was the
Smurfs
. I used to love seeing
reruns of the
Smurfs
on TV. My mama threw me this big party,
and everything was blue. All the food and decorations were blue,
and no one was allowed in if they wore anything other than
blue.”
“
Smurfs
?” Jill asked, confused. “Like from
the movie?”
“Yeah, you know, the blue cartoons, the little elf
things. The movies now are remakes from the old cartoon television
show. Don’t you remember?”
Still looking dumbfounded, Jill shook her head.
“OMG! You don’t know who the
Smurfs
are? What
rock have you been living under, honey?”
“I love when you curse in acronyms.” Jill laughed
and then reminded Heather, “Not a rock, an island.”
“Oh, honey, bless your deprived little heart. I’m
such an idiot. Of course you wouldn’t have watched the
Smurfs
or anything else for that matter.”
“Nope. No little elf things or any other thing that
happened pretty much the entire decade of the nineties. No cable TV
on the island, can you believe it?” she said, sarcastically.
“That’s it.” Heather clasped her hands together,
proudly. “That’s our theme. You missed the nineties, so we’ll do a
nineties-themed party!” Heather squealed again but then slumped
down slightly. “Well, the nineties were kind of weird: grunge,
somber, not so fun.” After a second, she was bouncing up and down
again. “Let’s do eighties. That’s more fun! It’ll be like a
retro-lesson on the eighties for you and the guys.”
