P R O L O G U E
Life is never as wonderful as we say it is.
Waking up to the constant beeping of an alarm at four-thirty in the morning for my six am shift is not wonderful. Having to rush all over the apartment, looking for the other pair of matching socks, and stubbing my toe on the leg of a coffee table is not wonderful. Living pay-check to pay-check while working at a cafe in the middle of nowhere is not wonderful, but this is the life I’ve been given.
Some have it way better than I do, many have it a lot worse, and those in the middle begin losing their hair at the age of thirty-five.
My life isn’t bad, per se, it just lacks adventure. Every day is the same routine: wake up, get ready for my job, work an eight-hour shift, maybe get a little snack in the middle of that shift, drive half a mile home, then stand, or sit, somewhere in my apartment until I make dinner, and then go to bed around nine-thirty on my itchy queen-sized bed.
It’s a pretty bland life, and I own that, but somewhere in life, we get to the point where we ask ourselves ‘Is this how we want to live the rest of our lives?’
One month ago, the Dani Tores I used to be would’ve answered with yes, I was very content with my life and how it was playing out, but, after I met Alexander Locke, I realized my life needed some livening to it.—————————————————————————
I gently pick up the card and an unfamiliar scent invades my senses. A cologne of some sort which the card seems to be doused in.
My eyes move across the words written, reading it once, twice, three times.
A cold chill snakes up my back, freezing me in place and the card flutters out of my hand towards the floor, the words never once leaving my mind.
Didn't your mother ever teach you to lock your windows?
You never know who'll make a grand entrance
❤ - Admirer
"Is that...no it can't be. That looks like...," she trails off slightly, not believing what she's seeing.
"Me," I say quietly, finishing her statement.
Right in the middle sat a doll, poise and upright with a blue cafe dress on. Wavy auburn hair falls down to her waist and where her eyes should've been are circular black buttons.
How psychotic does someone have to be to make a replica of someone else and turn them into a doll?—————————————————————————
Thank you so much for choosing to read my book Bleeding Hearts!
The beginning is very slow but it does begin to pick up heat so please don’t give up on it.
This is my very first book so yes there are going to be grammatical mistakes and plot holes every once in a while but don’t be rude about it, just let me know in the comment and I’ll get around to editing it :)
HOPE YOU ENJOY THE BOOK AND HAPPY READING!