* * *
Felicia lifted her head from the book when the light of her bedside lamp wasn’t enough anymore to read without ruining her eyesight. She rubbed her tired eyes. Surprisingly, what had started with a reluctant attitude had turned out to catch her interest. The chapter she had picked spoke about control. About knowing the moment when you crossed the invisible border and when what was inside you took over. It was a topic which had been raised again and again during her life, if not by her then by her parents.
Her parents.
She swallowed back the lump in her throat, caused by the mere thought of her father and mother. It had been months since she had last picked up the phone to talk to them. More than a year probably since they had last met. And it was her fault. Who could blame two perfectly sane, admirably normal people in their prime if they didn’t want to get in touch with a daughter who didn’t feel part of their family?
Too much had happened.
Things she didn’t want to remember and they didn’t deserve.
One particular scene elbowed the other dreadful memories in the ribs and bullied its way to the fore, vivid as though it were happening again.
Playing with Fire (Book 1 of the FIRE Trilogy) Page 6
