Sneaky Preview

Burning Doors Front Cover web

For anyone who hasn’t picked up the Burning Doors, the second book in The Extraction List Series, I thought I’d give you a little preview of the mayhem ahead. Enjoy!

  The first time I killed someone, it was an accident. Though I guess it was the kind of accident that happens when you squeeze your hands around someone’s neck for too long, or when you shove
someone who is standing too close to the edge of a building. In my case, I accidentally killed my father when I beat him to death with a pipe.
  He had set me up that night, I’m sure of it. I was always careful to leave the TV volume down so I
wouldn’t be caught. But when I flipped the power on that night, the news roared. The woman I wanted
to see was there, giving a speech like always, but her voice came out with the force of thunder.
Sweat drenched my body when I heard the door to my parents’ upstairs bedroom fly open and hit the
wall. The foundation shook and so did my limbs. I sat frozen in a seated position as I heard his
footsteps. All I could focus on were his shiny patent leather shoes coming toward me. Even in the
middle of the night, he took the time to slip them on.
  I could smell him before I even saw his feet. He constantly stunk of mouthwash and old cologne; it
was some putrid mix of sandalwood and beach vacations that we would never take. He cackled as
he stepped toward me, so the minty air from his breath reached me before his hand did. I felt my head hit the floor before I felt the familiar sting in my cheek. “You’re so stupid. You really think you’ll ever leave here? Where do you think you’re going to go, huh? You need me. She hasn’t come for you and she never will!” He kicked me in the side with his foot. My stomach clenched from the impact.
  I usually kept quiet when he hit me. At most, I would agree with whatever he was saying to stop
him before he did real damage.
  It never worked.
  No matter what I said, or didn’t say, the blows would keep coming. My mother was always
conveniently upstairs, but no one can tell me she couldn’t hear the snap of his belt or the furniture
rattle as he shoved me into it.
  That night was different. Maybe it was watching the woman from the television, or maybe it was the
way his smile stretched across his face as he struck me, I don’t know. But when he was finished and
heading back upstairs, I spat towards him.
  My cheeks burned as I did it. In fact, my whole body felt like it was on fire. But I’d be lying if I said
I wished I could take it back. Even when he turned, eyes wide when he noticed the wad of saliva
glistening on the concrete floor, I didn’t regret it one bit.

  I may have even cracked a smile.
Click on the cover on the right hand side of the page to purchase. Don’t miss it!
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