Altruist (The Altruist Series Book 1) Read Free Page B

down a cobblestone street, my shoes click hard against the ground. I come up against a crowd, blocking my path and stopping me in my tracks. They’re circled around something, cries escape from the woman directly in front of me and I push my way forward against the wave of people. As I reach the inner circle I notice they are not crowded around something, but rather someone, a girl. She is not more that ten, her tiny body crumpled into a ball. I drop to my knees to lift her from the cold street but it is too late, her body is already void of life. I notice the thick dirt under her nails; she had probably been sitting on this sidewalk for hours without anyone giving her as much as a glance. London nights like these will send a chill deep into your bones and, in the girl’s case, pull the air out of your chest. Bobbies rush toward me, their nightsticks swaying back and forth on their belts. As the crowd begins to disperse, I lay the girl into their arms and continue on my way home. I walk with my head down, staring at my leather boots. My mind is consumed with the image of her tiny frame, and maybe that’s why I don’t notice the man walking behind me, matching his pace to mine. I turn the corner and find myself taking a short cut through an alley wet with the day’s rain. I hear his footsteps closing in on mine and just as I turn my head, I feel the familiar pierce of his cold blade and the rush of warm blood that follows. I fall against the wall to my right, hunched over. I know I am dying. I see a dark, shadowy figure make its way over the roof of the building in front of me and down the fire escape; it’s him, the boy. Before I know it, he is resting me against the pavement; my limbs belong more to him than myself. A single tear trickles down his face. “Hold on Cate. I promise this won’t keep happening.” The words spill out of his mouth like he is racing against death’s clock. And then, there is nothing.
     
     
     
    My body jolts forward as my hands race toward my back, desperately clawing at my skin, searching for the flesh wound that the dagger made its home. I pant uncontrollably; my hands feel nothing but cold sweat. My eyes, raw with hot tears scan the room. I’m in my bed .
     
    I see a glimmer of light out of the left corner of my eye; it gently begins to bathe the room in a soft glow, but as I turn to focus, it disappears.  I blink a few times, trying to reactivate whatever it was that had begun just a moment ago but the room is dark now, quiet. I lay back and pull the covers up to my chin and tightly close my eyes, urging for morning to come and as I begin to drift off all I can think is, why does this keep happening?
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
    My eyes are closed for what feels like mere seconds before I feel Mom’s hands shaking me awake. “Cate! It’s nearly twenty minutes to 9! You’re late; you’ve missed your bus. Hurry up and meet me down stairs, I’ll drop you off on the way to my first open house.”
     
    Even in my exhausted state, I can hear the edge in her voice. Barely 9am and I have somehow managed to muck up her day. I throw on a navy polo and khakis and head down to the car. I stare at it there in the driveway, its fresh black paint shining in the morning rays. Riding in a car makes me feel uneasy. We were only gifted it from the council last year, as a token of gratitude for my father’s years of service. I feel awful having access to such luxury when most do not have access to showers. “I think I’ll just walk to class,” I say.
     
    “Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t have time for your silly fears. Get in.” My mother’s voice is rigid and stern and I suppose her coming from a Class 4 childhood has made having a personal vehicle feel natural.  My seatbelt is buckled for approximately 1.7 seconds before she shoves a banana in my face and exclaims, “Eat!” I’m not nearly awake enough to attempt the focus required to bite and chew but I know arguing with her about