Finding Pride | Page 2 of 122

Author: Jill Sanders | Submitted by: Maria Garcia | 6344 Views | Add a Review

Few books are only available in 'with images' version.

and down small rolling hills. If someone were to look at the scene from above, it would appear similar to a white rat running through a large maze, no doubt on its way to find the cheese.

Several minutes had passed since an open field was visible to the driver.

Every now and then a quick glance of a farmhouse or a barn would appear.

But, for now the only view was the gray of the sky, the green of the trees, and the black top of the road.

The car was traveling toward freedom, freedom that had come at the worst price, death.

Megan Kimble had just lost the last of her family. Now at a time when she was finally free to live, she had no one to share it with.

For a moment the sun peeked out of the clouds, its landed on a small crowd gathered around a casket. Mist and fog hung in the afternoon air. It made the hill overlooking the small town of Pride, Oregon, appear cut off from all other civilization, an island floating in a sea of fog. Not a sound came from the gathered mourners. Each person stood with head down, looking at the dark wet wood of the casket.

In front of the crowd stood Megan, a lone young woman who was dressed in a dark skirt and a large black rain coat. Her head was bent down, her tears silently slipping down her face. Her long blonde hair was neatly tied back with a clip. The right sleeve of her coat hung empty. Her arm tucked close to her body, encased in a white cast from her upper arm to just above her wrist.

Looking up, she started gazing around the old cemetery, not really noticing the people, but instead the old and crumbled headstones. Her eyes stopped on a tall figure that appeared to hover above the mist. Blinking a few times to clear the moisture from her eyes, she realized it was a large headstone in the shape of an angel. The angel’s arms were stretched up to the heavens, as if reaching for a helping hand to ascend above.

Her thoughts drifted to Matt and she looked back down at the casket. Matt had always called her his little angel. Looking at the simple dark wood through teary eyes, she remembered her brother’s face as it looked fifteen years ago. That was when she had awakened in the hospital, her little body covered in terrible bright red marks of abuse. Her memory of the violence by her father’s hands gone, along with both their parents’ lives.

Matt had been the first face she remembered seeing in the cold sterile room.

She remembered his face had been streaked with tears, his eyes red as he cooed to her, “Little Meg, everything will be okay. I’ll take care of you now.

Don’t worry little Angel.”

Her thoughts snapped back

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Great book, nicely written and thank you BooksVooks for uploading

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