Awoken By Passion

Book One in the Passion series

Awoken By Passion

Kera

By

RJ Dale

Copyright © RJ Dale 2013

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

Thank you for downloading this free eBook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. Please keep this book in its complete original form. No alteration of content is allowed.

Thank you for your support.

This book is a work of fiction.

All characters and locations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead or real locations is purely coincidental.

RJ Dale is an Australian author and Australian English and spelling have been used in this eBook.

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Where to find me:

Got a question that needs answering: email me

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In the Passion series:

Awoken By Passion

Edge Of Darkness

Born Of Light

Blood And Fruit

Kind of the Dundine: Four book set

The Kyra Series:

Ever On: Part One

Ever On: Part Two

Ever On: Part Three

The Coven series

The Elementals

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This is a supernatural teen romance. Advisable for matured readers.

Cover Design by RJ Dale © copyright 2013

2019 Edition

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For the one I love,

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Awoken By Passion

By

RJ Dale

Kera

Everybody has a voice.

To know, to feel, to belong, to be loved.

Prologue

Silent

Noooo! The deep scream erupted from within as twisted shadows tormented my dreams. My thoughts tumbled into murky water that clouded my senses and weighed my body down. Fighting the darkness to a never ending direction, screaming with no sound, forcing to wake, or to stay where I was, to fight and stir from the shadows of anguish.

Noo! The cry was mine. No! I screamed as I fought the haze of darkness.

Something pulled me under. Something pulled me out—

Kera?

The voice was far off and beside me in an instant. Elizabeth, my mother. Mum! Her hand held mine, and I opened my eyes to a hazy view of familiar faces.

Kera! Elizabeth pulled me into her arms. You’re okay, Honey, you’re okay. She soothed repeatedly, brushing my curls from my face, whispering more words of safety. The worry was there, the stress too. Pain ebbed deep inside, the pain of something—something wasn’t right. Something was wrong—really wrong.

I blinked several times, gazing around the room—not my room. This room was starch blue, not baby blue, and not sky blue. Hospital blue.

I was in hospital?

How? Why?

The smell of disinfectant lingered in the air, the far off beep from a monitor was just the surface of what was. The sting of the drip on my left arm made me frown. Why am I here? What was I doing in hospital?

What happened? I asked rising more; shifting the pillow and having Elizabeth press the buttons on the bed allowing it to rise at the pillow end. Much better, but that didn’t explain why they didn’t answer me. I wasn’t deaf; the bed made enough noise for all to hear, and I knew they should have heard me. With the bed in the high head position, I was able to see another person I had over looked. Mrs. Tanner. Melody’s mum. Why was she here? I was about to ask, when the doctor stepped closer.

Tall, with short grey hair and a stencilled face of compassion, he showed no indication to what I asked; he started checking my pulse and peeking in my eyes with a flash light, too look down my throat. Not a word was said, and that annoyed me. He could have introduced himself.

Mum? I grunted. Mum! I said again, coughing, and swallowing several times to dislodge the voice that was there—Mum—I wasn’t able to hear my voice. Did that mean I was deaf? Was I just assuming the sounds? No. The machine was beeping, there was ringing down the hall and traffic was outside. Why hadn’t they answered me? I was talking—right?

Mum! MUM! Hello. Anyone?

My lips moved, but no voice left my throat. No sound, no whisper, no hiss. Nothing.

Hello, someone. Anyone? Can you hear me?

No one answered because I wasn’t speaking. I wasn’t talking—with voice. What’s happening? I repeated—mouthed.

Mouthed?

That can’t be right.

Sure, lip’s moving is one thing, but no sound? Nothing.

That’s when real fear sunk in. The seconds passed, the realisation I was trying to speak hadn’t struck the others as unusual.

What’s going on? I demanded. Mum … Help me! I reached for her as sadness tightened around me, just as the vague dream had done moments ago. What’s happening? Why can’t I speak?

It’s okay, Honey. She pulled me into her arms, rocking me with soothing words about how it was all okay. You’re okay now. Everything is going to be okay.

I knew it wasn’t okay. It was all wrong—very wrong.

What’s going on? I asked—mouthed.

Kera? The doctor shuffled towards me. Do you remember what happened?

Happened? I echoed.

They all stared with creased brows, to turn to one another with unspoken words and a hint of unease on how to continue without making me feel even worse. No one heard me.

I can’t speak, I mouthed. Why can’t I talk? What’s happening?

Did they do something to my throat? My voice? Coughing repeatedly to make something happen, but nothing changed it. Why couldn’t they see that I couldn’t speak? I closed my eyes, trying to remember and nothing came to me. Nothing but emptiness.

Mum … What happened. Please tell me?

Elizabeth squeezed my hand. You … you were in an accident honey. You don’t have to remember. You’re okay now—that’s the main thing.

I shook my head at the ‘okay part’ because I wasn’t okay. Not one bit of this was okay. I can’t speak! I have no voice! What kind of accident was I in? What’s going on?

If my voice were working, I would’ve been screaming. Loud, full, and maybe to the point of glass cracking, but it wasn’t that simple. Just silence. Me—mouthing incoherently to all those who stood before me. My voice wasn’t here, but my thoughts were. My thoughts? I tapped my throat several times, annoyed that the doctor hadn’t checked this sooner, least he should’ve seen something when he shined his torch in my mouth moments ago. Whatever happened in the accident had something to do with this moment right now. What could make me lose my voice?

You … You can’t speak? He asked at last.

I nodded vigorously. Hello.

The Doctor probed my throat. His fingers were rough on my cream skin as he pressed along my neck; making me gag, he pulled away to frown harder. He tilted my face higher, asking me to open my mouth, stick my tongue out—like a five year old—Ahhhh! His creased brow didn’t waver, nor did it show any emotion as to why I couldn’t speak. After flashing a light down my throat for a third time, and making me repeat the syllables of Ah—his bushy brows touched with complete confusion.

There’s no inflammation, irritation, redness … He listed several other possible clues that should be present in this type of situation. No lumps, bruising … He pressed harder, suffocating me briefly before shifting his fingers lower on my throat. No dislodging, no scarring, and no reason your voice shouldn’t work. His brow rose with arrogance.

Was he suggesting I was faking it?

She has no voice. Isn’t there something you can do?

At this point, no. I can take an x-ray and have a few tests taken. Perhaps it is side effect from the coma. Not to worry, we’ll get to the bottom of it. He scanned me over, puzzled, but unimpressed.

I was in a coma?

You may have to stay in hospital awhile longer. He added, as if there was some place else I was to do the test.

She just woke up. It won’t be too much longer will it? Asked Elizabeth, she looked ready to take me home this moment.

No. Not too much longer. His chuckle was playful; clearly, they’d bonded in the time I had been here. In a coma—

How long was I in a coma? I frowned. How long had I been here? Echoing my thoughts didn’t help.

It took several mouth motions to make her read my lips correctly.

She glanced to the others and added, We can talk about this later, when you’re better. It was always later in her eyes.

No, I grunted. No sound came forth. I folded my arms with the lack of care from her. I wanted answers. I wanted them now. Frowning at her made no reaction. Did she get body snatched?

Something dreadful happened and I wasn’t able to remember it. I had been in a coma, I had no voice and … I was in an accident? What kind of an accident? What was I supposed to remember? A maths test on Monday, another history assignment, the new witch series that was starting. No. Something more specific. Asking Tyler Johnston out; going to the movies with Melody. None of these came as an obvious answer, since it wasn’t the answer they were seeking, nor was it the answer that could sum up why I was in hospital, and why I couldn’t speak.

Deep down, I could feel it. Deep in the core of my … thoughts. Something bad happened. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, and the Doctor wouldn’t be asking—

What’s the last thing you remember, Kera? This time it was more specific.

The last thing I remember.

It was raining. I remember the rain. It was chilly; the winter rain had taken some of the chill from the ground, but not from the air. A puff of air escaped my lips—that was a memory. I closed my eyes, remembering the rain, the air, the voice, laughter, tears, screaming … Panic? Fear? Thrill? I couldn’t remember what happened. Something did happen though—what.

What happened in the rain?

Nothing.

No. That’s not right. Something did happen. Something important that I was supposed to remember and couldn’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.

I creased my brow forcing myself to remember as Elizabeth patted my hand in hopes I had an answer. I don’t remember anything, I said—mouthed. But something did happen? Didn’t It? I opened my eyes. I realised I didn’t speak. A groan might live in there, but no voice.

I couldn’t answer them.

Elizabeth pulled me into another tight hug. Her eyes were fighting tears, and I realised this was serious.

We’ll work it all out honey. It’s okay now, she soothed.

What. No. I’m not okay.

You just woke up, shh. Rest now, Kera.

The doctor started talking about getting a start on my test.

It all takes time, and in the mean time, Kera, I suggest you remember what happened. His tone suggested I’d woken up days ago. He was already bored with me.

I glanced at Mrs. Tanner. She’d been still like a statue throughout this whole ordeal, and it was unlike her to be so distant. I noticed her normally blushing cheeks were pale and her hazel eyes, which were as bright as Melody’s, were puffy. Red rimmed and ready to leak more tears. She wasn’t just distant. She was a afraid—worried and sad. She’d never looked so sad in all my life; and part of me wanted to cry with her. Why would she be so sad? Why was I so sad for her? Where is Melody? I mouthed with perfect movement; no one could miss it.

No one answered my unheard words.

No one heard me.

I turned to Elizabeth and mouthed my request; she knew what I was asking.

Oh honey. She pressed her lips together, the same sad look that was present on Mrs. Tanner’s face, showed here. It’s okay; you don’t need to worry about that.

Worry about what? I spied a notebook in the doctor’s chest pocket. With one lithe move, I snatched it free, along with a pen. Writing hastily, I held it up as each eyed my note. A look of unease lingered on their faces—no, uncomfortable. They were completely uncomfortable with that question.

Well, where is she? I demanded.

No one could hear me, but they could read—and they were refusing to answer me. I held the notebook up, tapping the page with defiance.

WHERE IS MEL?

The intake of breath came from Mrs Tanner. She started to say something, her chin trembling; pressing her lips together as fresh tears rolled down her pale cheeks. Clasping her hands to her face, she shuffled from the room in such raw sadness; I was stunned. I’d never seen her so sad before, never seen her so full of emotional pain.

I turned to Elizabeth for an answer to her actions. She showed the same amount of trauma. The turmoil, the discomfort and the rim of tears that threatened to fall, but did not give a reason to Mrs Tanners actions.

The Doctor showed less bother, though a pro at pretending he cared; he didn’t.

Kera, he said gently. Can you remember where you went Saturday evening?

Er … Strange he’d ask about a specific day. And why didn’t they answer my other questions. Saturday evening. Last week? I asked—wrote on the paper.

His eyes scanned the notebook, making his bushy brows touch completely. You believe that I’m asking about last weekend?

I nodded. You said Saturday. That’d be last week. I wrote.

What day is it today?

Er … today is Saturday. I hung my head in annoyance. Dah! Glancing to the window, I frowned. It was misty glass. The kind all bathrooms had. They held no clear view of any object, but managed to make light less bright, and shapes less shaped—large blobs of colour really.

And what were you planning to do … today? His tone played with the idea of my adventures, as though I were a small child.

Er … Melody and I are going to the movies tonight, I said with a degree of eagerness; mostly because I was looking forward to going to the movie. The new horror release.

And you believe tomorrow is Sunday?

I nodded. Haven’t we established this already? I glanced between the two of them. Tomorrow is Sunday, today is Saturday, and yesterday was Friday, I paused at my unspoken words; they hung on my thoughts.

If today was Saturday, what was I doing here? It was the middle of the day. I should be at Mel’s house. I should be with her, not here. Yesterday I was at school. I remember school. I remember laughing, talking to Melody about Tyler; how he likes me, how he passed a note to me in class, but I was too shy to read it right there. I remember giggling senseless over his letter when I did, because it was just a silly joke … Then what happened?

What’s going on? If I had a voice, it would have been toned with depth. The fear tingled in the nape of my neck, spreading down along my skin, chilling me. I wrote on the notebook.

Today is Saturday, isn’t it?

The doctor shifted his eyes to Elizabeth, who pressed her lips together. It was her trait, whenever she wanted to correct me, ever since I was a little girl. The press of her lips would show if I said something incorrectly. In this situation, I’d written it down—that was still means to correct me.

It’s Tuesday, Honey. She reached towards me, patting my hand, and squeezing it tight. The Saturday that you were referring to, was two weeks ago.

Two weeks?

Time stopped.

Or as best my brain rushed ahead of all that was happening. It was stuck between understanding and realising. Through the frosted glass window, the sun was shining. The perfect sunny day that Mel and I loved. The bright green trees, the blue of the sky, and even the blobby shapes of clouds. That was when it hit me. If it was Saturday morning, it would be raining. It wouldn’t be sunny because it was raining on Friday, which was yesterday, right?

What happened? How? How is that possible? I mouthed; annoyed my voice wasn’t working, and I glanced to the window. Sunny. That hadn’t changed. My voice still didn’t work and I’d just woken up … Was it really two weeks ago I’d been at school? That explains the coma. But not my lose of voice.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus, trying to understand. A flash of darkness held in my view, but it was murky water. The kind I woke from and didn’t want to go back too. It was gone before I could hold to the image it was there at all.

What is the last thing you remember, Kera? His question was like before, but now … now it was serious.

School, I said, hating I couldn’t talk. I had to write it down. I left school with Mel, we walked to her house and then … I bit my lip taking in the small half finished sentence. And then … there has to be something else. There always is something else. But like my voice—there was nothing.

Two weeks?

No. It can’t be two weeks. Was I sick? Did she get sick too? I was in a coma. Was she here? Where is she? I leaned around them, hoping she was standing outside my room, or maybe she was in the bed opposite mine. But the beds were bare.

Mel! I called.

If my stupid voice worked, it would have been crisp, clear, and loud. I turned to the doctor, hoping he’d answer. He didn’t. He exhaled gravely and shifted his feet uncomfortably.

I tapped the notebook at the first question. I needed to know. Elizabeth shook her head. Sadness doubled in her features, tears threatened to fall.

Why were they not answering me? Sure, they can’t hear me, but they can read lips—sort of

I’m so sorry Honey. Mum reached towards me, embracing me tight. It was … the rain. The … She inhaled sharply, fighting tears. I don’t know how it happened. You were in an accident … together. Taking in the quiver of her lips, the tears that glistened on her cheeks, made tears form behind my eyes. I was crying—not just for the unspoken words I couldn’t speak, or waking from the two week coma and the IV in my hand or the headache that was constant. I was crying for the realisation of what was really—really wrong.

Mel wasn’t here.

I’d survived an accident from two weeks ago. And she wasn’t here.

I glanced to the table of get-well-soon-cards, not even enough to count past my right hand fingers, but they were there—except for one. The one that was from her was missing.

And Mel? Where is she? I managed to think the words. Even as I replayed Mrs Tanner running from the room, the missing card, the sudden sadness that was unspeakable.

Mum hugged me tighter as my breath caught on her words. She died, Kera.

No. I screamed inward. Nooo! It’s not true! It’s not. I wasn’t aware of holding on to her, or pulling away to scream silently at the echo of words. She died? No. It’s not possible. No. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up! I yelled with a voice that didn’t exist. Rocking from side to side with the shock of what was starting to—No! I clenched my jaw in determination, pulling Elizabeth towards me, to make her hear my words. To read my lips. It’s not true! Tell me it’s not true.

Shhhh … She tried to soothe.

I didn’t want it. I forced her to read my lips.

It’s not true. Please say it’s not true. We were going to the movies, we’re going to preform in the school play together, and we were … going to plan her party for next week. I heaved at the knowledge that I’d missed it, just as I’d missed the past two weeks. I choked on words that would not come forth, but my lips wouldn’t stop.

Bring her back! Say it’s not true. Bring her HERE! I screamed inwardly.

Tears fell and no sound came from my throat, no moan of sadness, no cry of hope. It was all inward. I was screaming, yelling with the force of a train whistle, and still—no one heard me.

No one was listening.

It’s okay honey. It’s all okay. You’re safe. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around me, holding me close to her chest.

I heaved into the comfort, trying to make sense of it. Taking large gulps of air to calm myself and clear my clouded thoughts. Two weeks? Mel … gone? I couldn’t accept that.

She can’t be dead. She just can’t be.

Elizabeth stroked my long curls across my shoulder, whispering it was okay, it was fine now. She started to fill in the numbing truth. They found us by Dim’s creek in the early hours of Sunday morning. The bridge had been damaged, which they had no idea how it happened. No vehicle was on the scene, no other people were involved, and since it was late at night, they think a truck lost control on the slippery surface, and ploughed into the bridge; knocking me and Mel into the icy water below and we were swept downstream by two hundred meters. I was found unconscious, holding her body.

Her body.

It was all wrong. I wish I didn’t hear. I wish I was deaf, not mute. Waking as I had, thinking it was Saturday, hating the echo of truth behind it all and thinking—this was a bad dream. I couldn’t remember anything after Friday afternoon. What did me and Mel talk about? Was it really the last thing we did—walk home? No. There had to be more. She was my best friend, and I would never forget her. I went to her house as planned. And then I … I … damn it! No. I had to remember. I don’t remember waking on Saturday morning or going to the movie’s or even being at Melody’s house. In truth, waking just now and in the logics of my thoughts, this is Saturday, but it wasn’t.

It was Tuesday.

Two and a bit weeks later—really?

No. It wasn’t right. Melody can’t be dead. She can’t drown. She was a better swimmer than me. She won first place three times in a row. She had medals, and dozen ribbons to say she was a better swimmer than the A-team. She couldn’t have died. Not like this. It’s not true. It’s not real, I said, shaking my head and pulling from Elizabeth.

My voice didn’t work, why it stopped irritated me. It