Find Me Alastar

By: T L Swan

Acknowledgments





Find Me Alastar has been by far the hardest book I have ever written. I knew the story, I loved the story. But the delivery was unclear to me.

How could I possibly do justice to a story that I loved so dearly?

I struggled and I cried tears of pure frustration.

How could a book that I love so much be so damn hard to execute?

I would like to sincerely thank my four dear friends, Vicki, Amanda, Rachel and Lisa who refused to let me release a book that was not completely right.

Thank you for making me write this book three times, bitches. I love you all……even though you have undoubtedly tried to kill me with this one.

To my gorgeous friend and editor Victoria, thank you for everything. You make me better.

To my beta readers, thank you so much, you are the best.

To my proof readers, your attention to detail fries my brain, also awesome.

Linda from Sassy Savvy and Fabulous, you rock!

To the bloggers who support and read my work, thank you so, so much.

To my gang in the Swan Squad, thank you for being in my life. You all make me laugh everyday.

To the loves of my life, my husband and our three children. Thank you for putting up with me through this. I love you all.

And last but not least, to you, the readers… thank you for supporting and reading my work.

I hope you all love this book as much as I do.

It has been worth every single tear.



* * *



Tee xx





How can I possibly ever reach my potential

if I am too scared to find it?

At what point do I listen to the whispers of my psyche

Above all sensibility?

Too scared to jump.

Too stifled to stay.

When I fall, will you catch me?

Because of us.





Prologue





My breathing is shallow.

I’m too terrified to make the slightest sound.

He’s coming. I can hear him upstairs. This time he will kill me.

I curl into a ball underneath the table in a desperate bid to hide in this cellar—my prison. Having been locked down here for over a week, I’m certain my days are numbered.

I’m not sure how much more I can take, but I know it won’t be long now.

My eyes stay fixed on the door at the top of the stairs while my heart hammers furiously in my chest. My chances of survival are probably better if I take the lighting out, that way he can’t find me when he returns. But the thought of being down here in the darkness petrifies me beyond anything.

It’s my wildest nightmare.

I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Either way, death feels so near.

My only hope is if my saviour comes looking for me, but I desperately hope he doesn’t. I know for certain that if he does, he will be killed right beside me.

The darkness will double.

Tears pool in my eyes as I continue to softly pant through shallow breathes. How did my life come to this?

If I couldn’t trust him, who can I ever trust again? I can’t believe he is capable of such atrocities

I loved him; with all of my heart I loved him.

My beloved protector has become my captor and now I feel nothing.

The door opens with a slow creak and I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel the adrenaline surge through my bloodstream.

Oh no, please, no.

Not again.

Please don’t hurt me.

“Where are you?” He growls as he descends down the creaky steps.

I scrunch up my face as tears of fear begin to roll down my cheeks.

“Don’t hide from me!” he screams. His footing is heavy and I know he’s been drinking. “It will only make it worse for you when I find you.”

I hold my breath as he jumps from the bottom step, his footsteps now getting closer.

My eyes stay shut in the dark of the basement, and it isn’t long before I feel his hand take hold of my hair and the pain surge through my scalp as he drags me from under the table.

He kicks me, knocking the wind from my lungs instantly, and I curl into a tight ball to try and protect myself.

His boot connects with my abdomen next, the taste of blood filling my mouth as a deep internal pain permeates throughout my body.

Death would be easier than enduring this.

I surrender.

I can’t go on.

Kill me.

Please kill me. I beg somebody to kill me.

Stop this torture.

Set me free.





Chapter 1





Midlife crisis? Is there really such a thing?

I always imagined it happening around the age of fifty and it entailing a sports car, Botox, and perhaps a mild fetish for gay porn. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would go down like this at the tender age of twenty-five.

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