Book: Twisted in You
Author: Fabiola Francisco
Release Date: 13th April
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Depressed, crazy, violent, angry, suicidal. Those are the adjectives most people would use to describe me. Ironically, the one that upsets me is violent. Iâm not a violent person.
Am I depressed? Yes. Lifeâs a bitch, and sheâs taken me for a fucking ride.
Crazy? I wouldnât say so, although I can see why people would describe me as such.
Angry? Fuck yeah. Iâve got some twisted stories to explain my anger.
Suicidal? Well, maybe this one time. And that one time is the reason Iâm here, telling you my story, from room 113 of the Chasing Freedom Recovery Center. Isnât the name fucking peachy? Sit tight folks, youâre in for a dark ride.
I donât have a problem. Drinking is something I do to relax after a long day of work, or a long day on stage. Iâm not an alcoholic. I know what alcoholics are like, and thatâs not me. (Not yet.)
Regardless, they send me to Chasing Freedom. (Again). Theyâre determined to heal something that isnât broken. (Liar.) And Iâm stuck with Red, hearing her lose her shit and tell me off in the process. However, one look into her eyes shows me her demons. Some I am familiar with, others I canât fathom. I know darkness, but sheâs pitch black, and I want to hold the torch and lead her out.
I hear the heavy movement of boots, and I shudder at the thought of that darkness reentering my life. He slumps on the chair next to me. God, this canât be happening again. I hate being here in this fucking prison, but itâs the only place I know evil canât get to me. Now, there is the permanent memory of it sitting next to me.
âSo, what poison got you locked up in here?â
I look at him blankly. âI donât do drugs.â
âThen why the fuck are you here?â He spits at me, and I get a whiff of alcohol laced with mint on his breath.
I shrug, hoping he goes away. Hoping he takes the darkness back where it came from.
âWhat? You donât talk?â
âIâm talking.â Leave me alone.
He looks over at my canvas. âThatâs some warped shit.â
âLife is warped.â If he only knew how fucked up life is.
Heâs an asshole brat.
âOnly if you want it to be. So, you donât have anything to share. Donât lie. Youâre in here for a reason. You look like you know some good stuff. I wonât tell anyone,â he smiles, feigning his good intentions.
âFuck off,â I say looking at him dead in the eyes. I will not go through this again.
I catch a glimpse of his eyes, itâs hard to tell under the shadow of his cap if theyâre green or hazel, but they look sad and angry. I canât see the rest of him, besides a light beard that covers his face.
Nope, he doesnât look like the devil, but I see the darkness that surrounds him. I try to ignore him and go back to the mindless painting Iâm doing. I have no idea what is on the canvas, so I look up to see whatâs so scary about it.
Shit. I never focus on what Iâm painting with the brush; I move it along so no one bothers me as I get lost in my mind.
Itâs him. Heâs staring back at me, fury and hatred painted in his eyes, horns adorning the crown of his head and a malevolent smile plastered on his shattered face.
I drop the paintbrush quickly and stare in disbelief. How many times have I painted this? What the fuck has come out of me through that brush when I wasnât paying attention? I stand up and throw it away. My scars begin to itch. I need something. I need a way to escape this. Itâs too much for me to handle. I pierce my nails into my scars. The skin there is thinner, more breakable, fragile like me. Maybe I can gush them open and let myself bleed out of this misery.
âMikayla, weâre not done yet. You know you canât throw away your art. Itâs part of therapy.â Here we go again with the same damn speech that painting will help me understand the reasons why I feel the way I do.
âYou can take your art and shove it up your ass.â I storm out of the art room, desperately wanting to escape my own mind and memories. I thought life as an eighteen-year-old was supposed to be good. Time to be living your life, not escaping demons and living in a judgmental purgatory with other lost souls.
Fabiola Francisco is a contemporary romance author from South Florida. Writing as been a part of her life since she was a teenager. Even at that age, she dreamed of happy endings with emotional twists. Her novels include Perfectly Imperfect, The Restoring Series, Sweet on You Duet, and Red Lights, Black Hearts.
Her passion for books and writing has inspired her to write her own stories. She writes novels readers could relate to and grow with. Sheâs currently working on writing more stories that connect with readers on a deeper.
Fabiola also loves expressing herself through art and spending time in nature. In her spare time, she loves to cuddle with a good book and a glass of wine.
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Instagram & Twitter: @authorfabiola