Love, Betrayal, and Murder

Ever King has lead an impossibly hard life. She gave birth at sixteen to a baby she didn't want. Five years later, the same little girl was murdered maliciously. Bad luck follows her wherever she goes. And when someone else she cares about is about to die, she refuses to allow it.

First in the Love, Betrayal, and Murder series.


2. An Instant (Part One) - Ever's P.O.V.

     I was twenty-one; Luna, five. I had just gotten off the phone with Serinity, who decided our poor, little, broken family needed a new addition in the form of a young girl.

     "Come on, Ever!" she begged. "Marcy is only a year older than Luna."

     "And Luna is already big enough of a handful. I thought we agreed! We can hardly afford one kid. If we are going to continue being roommates, you need to stick with our rules."

     "I don't care about those rules. You know I never care about any rules. Never have, never will. Ever, please. Please, please, please, Ever." And with great regret, I agreed. She screamed "Thank you." as loud as possible. She then asked me to use the emergency money under the cookie jar to buy a bed for the new girl, Marcy.

     "Luna! Come on! We're going somewhere!" I called out, grabbing my knockoff purse, my keys, and a couple of $100 bills from the jar.

     "No!" Luna retorted. I wished I had never said it; it became her favorite word.

     "Luna Trudy King! Come here right now!"

     Luna came running. We left together and after I locked the door, we got into the elevator. I let Luna press the buttons, as she always did. After a while of listening to the "chorus" of repetitive elevator music and my daughter's highly detailed description of a cat she saw in Emily Corpse Memorial Park (or as she called it, Emmy Park), we got to the parking garage and hopped in the car.

     "I am a big girl! I can buckle my seat belt all by myself!" I heard a click in the back seat. "Tada!"

     "Great job," I said, sounding way more excited than I truly was.

     Along the way to FUrNiture FOREVER, Luna babbled on about how Christian called her. Naturally, I asked questions about the call.

     " What did he want?"

     "Daddy wants to keep me for a while."

      "And what exactly did you tell him?"

     "I telled him to leave me alone. He asked me if you telled me to tell him that. And I telled him no way! Then he said it didn't matter."

     Now that was odd. Very uncharacteristic of him to let something like that roll of his back. To say it doesn't matter? What angle is he playing? "What do you mean 'It doesn't matter,' Luna?"

     "That's what he telled me. He said, 'Doesn't matter. If I can't have you' -" Luna was interrupted by the blast. The blast that came from the car, the old, piece of crap car. It always made loud, sputtering noises, but that time was different. Totally different! More of an explosion, really.

     I was thrown from the car. I landed on my arm, which made an incredibly loud snapping noise, but I ignored the blinding pain. I had to. No choice. I had to get to Luna.

     Stumbling, I got to my feet and searched. It was a short search, but in this life or death matter, it felt like an eternity. When I found her, in a small pool of her own blood, I picked her up as best I could with only one hand. There is no way to describe how great I felt when she wrapped her arms tight around me, and whispered, "Mommy, are you okay?" It was just like her, to care about others when she was in bad shape as well.

     Someone must have called the cops (Makes sense). The sound of sirens flooded my ears. People talked to me; I was oblivious. My daughter, although in pain, was alive. Alive and well. We  just survived a car bomb together.

     Some police arrived followed by two ambulances. A few people rushed towards me,one tried to get a good look at my obviously fractured left arm, the others wrenched Luna out of my grasp to put her in one of the ambulances. I wanted to get to her. I tried to get to her. But several cops restrained me. I was put into a separate ambulance and given Morphine for the pain. Not like it could have helped. The real pain was internal. Luna couldn't survive without me. She needed me. I needed her.

     A woman placed a mask over my mouth and nose, and while warning me to stop fighting to get out, she told me to inhale deeply. Without wanting to, I obeyed. After two or three breaths, everything went black.

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