Dead Anyway

Emily Odell doesn't have the best life. When a hurricane hits and kills the family she loves, it's even worse. In the aftermath, the item left in the rubble she's most interested in is a business card. Weird much? Well, the card has the address of some crazy old gypsy lady on it, and Emily gets the idea that this woman might have something to do with the odd fact that everyone in the house but her died. Meeting the gypsy has a death curse involved, and Emily is determined to make the last days of her life the most memorable. But will she have enough time before death?

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5. The Card

I'm fighting. I'm not hurting anyone or being hurt. I'm fighting my fear. I can't let it overcome me. The school was destroyed and everyone I know is dead. My parents, Lillian Harper, Chloe. All the neighbors. It's a wonder I'm not, too. I start picking through the rubble of our house. When I kick an exceptionally large rock out of the way, there's nothing but a little piece of paper. I scowl. Useless. I stomp on it for good measure, and it flips over. It's got writing on that side. I pick it up. It has an address. 

Anonymous

101, 5th Avenue

Houma, LA, 20463.

Oh. My God. I'm creeped out. My address is 101, 5th Avenue, New Orleans, LA, 20436. The address is the same, except the city and zip code. Houma is the next town over, I could get there fast. Well, by car. Taxi? No cash. I walk out onto the street, still clutching the card. It's total chaos. Trucks, cars, vans, you name it, bussing people out in loads. I try hitchhiking, I saw it in a movie. Lucky me - the finest young gentleman you will ever see pulls up in a Cadillac. "Hop in," he grins. I breathlessly slide into the passenger seat. "Where to, m'lady?" He asks, which makes me giggle. "Call me Emily. And here's the address." I hand him the slip of paper. For a second, a precious, dazzling second, our fingers touch. I keep my head down, not letting him see me blush. He looks at the paper. "Well, Emily, I'm Maxwell, and this address is a little mysterious." I stare at him. Does he know everything? "I mean, the name's put as anonymous." I let out my breath. Oh. "Um... nothing to worry about," I mutter. "Good," he says. "I just don't think that someone so beautiful should get her pretty face hurt." Oh, no. He can't mean me. "Who?" I ask like an idiot. "You," he answers quietly. A sudden chill has blown every bit of warmth from my body. "You think I'm beautiful?" I whisper. "I know you're beautiful," he says simply, as if this is not the most romantic moment in the world. In a movie, this is where we'd kiss, I think. But we don't, which is mildly disappointing to me. Well, I can always try again next time.

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