Touched completely blew me away and totally exceeded my expectations!! Remy comes from an abused home, taken away from her father by her mother when she was born she has lived with her mother and step-father and endured his abuse alongside her mother for many years. But Remy is no normal girl, for she has the ability to heal others and herself, the catch, any injury she heals she absorbs herself and then must use her own energy to heal it. When she is hospitalized at the age of 17 for the last time by Dean, her step father, her biological father, Ben, is notified.
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This is going to hurt like hell. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the room, my movements piercing the alcoholic haze insulating Dean. He straightened to his full six-foot-three when he noticed me, his eye twitching when I stared back unblinking.
Maybe he suspected I was a freak and it scared him. Maybe he was scared of himself, of what he wanted from me. Unknotting my hands from white knuckled fists, I hoped to defuse the tension before it exploded. My skin crawled when his pale blue eyes tracked me through a room. I went out of my way to stay away when he was alone in the apartment, but sometimes he managed to corner me in the shadows of our dim hallway.
The funny thing was that Dean looked like the grown version of that charming, innocent boy all the girls crushed on in high school. He had soft, blond curls and a friendly, open face that charmed the unaware. More than me. He stepped closer. I shuddered in anticipation of the brutality to come and the moment I would touch Anna.
Never taking my eyes from him, I slid sideways to keep the threadbare couch and scarred coffee table between us.
His smile raised the hair on my arms. It was a smile of warning—a smile to predict the weather by because hell was sure to rain down on its recipient. The buckle glinted in the light when he wrapped the black leather around his fist—a bright, shiny weapon. Hate speared through me, along with paralyzing fear. Better to make him angry, I decided. Then, maybe, it would end faster. I sneered while sidling closer to Anna.
A pathetic coward. Go ahead. At least the ghoulish waiting game would be over. His fist landed in my stomach, and I tripped over her. My head bounced off the wall with a dull thud. Cutting off my breath, he smiled and squeezed his fingers until the pain weakened my knees. Desperate for air, I clamped one hand on his arm and clutched my mother with the other. My eyes squeezed shut. Then my ability to think fractured.
I noted two broken ribs, a concussion, black eye, and bruises scattered all over her body. Dots of color popped against my closed lids in a spectacular fireworks show. She sobbed, and the storm inside me doubled and tripled in size. I had failed to protect her. Filled with rage, I imagined all my pain striking Dean down like fiery lightning.
Violent red light sizzled between my hand and his arm. His face froze in horror as his body jerked and convulsed. A loud crack splintered the air—his ribs breaking or mine—and I passed out. I woke to a soft hand brushing the hair from my face and the scent of musky perfume. Fear cut through the hazy edges of sleep, and I sat up too fast. Ignoring my aching stomach muscles, I searched for Dean, but only Anna sat with me.
Weak sunlight shone through the single window, and the scratchy sheets screamed hospital. My throat burned as I tamped down tears. Anna watched me, and I assessed her injuries. I seized her arm, ignoring her attempt to pull away in undisguised revulsion. A sharp pinch of regret stung me, and then my emotions flew away as I opened my mind to absorb her injuries.
Anna winced, but I ignored this, too, helping her deeper bruises to heal. Head wounds did the most damage to me and were the most difficult for me to heal. Finished, I sighed in relief. Soft, familiar blue sparks trailed from my fingertips down her arm as I released her.
She shrank back and started to cry. Frigid cold replaced the heat of energy that went hand in hand with the healing, and I shivered. She knew what I could do. His ribs are broken. She touched my hand in a rare gesture. The cops. They have a lot of questions about what happened. I told them it was all a misunderstanding. If I would just behave. It was her fault for not getting him his beer fast enough.
I should have handed over my paycheck from the video store. Sure enough, she started talking about how things would be different when we got home.
We had to try harder to be a family. Her words sickened me, and I covered my ears with a pillow, shouting Shut up! Shut up! I must have slept after she left because the room had darkened, and my father had arrived.
How do you feel? Any stranger could see I was his daughter. I had his height and wavy, thick hair that walked the border between curls and frizz, though his was a peppered black to my dirty blond. Dropping a straw in the cup, he tilted it toward me. I wanted nothing more than to refuse that sip of water, but my throat burned. After drawing on the straw for a moment, I leaned back, and it occurred to me that my injuries should have healed by now.
Touched Bücher in der richtigen Reihenfolge
By: Corrine Jackson I bit my lip to keep a smile from surfacing, but Lucy saw it anyway. We grinned at each other. Then, we both laughed, and the sound echoed through the night air. Lucy was quickly growing on me. She sat on the bed with her legs crisscrossed, and I lounged next to her.