No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1) Read Free

choking
back the onset of tears. I took one last look at myself , at my friends
gathered here, for me, to be with me, all so happy…and unaware. I heard a moan
of absolute desolation escape from me then I ran for, and stormed through, the
open roof door. I tore down the single flight of stairs to my apartment and
reached for the door knob, prepared to race through and barricade him out. My
hand passed right through it.
    The air in my lungs rushed out in
dismay. “Shit!” I cried. I gave it another go, and another; again and again my
hand passed right through the metal, as if my fingers were made of fog, not
flesh. I sighed heavily, desperately. I pondered briefly, if I were to lean my
head against the door, as I so utterly felt the overwhelming need to do, would
I pass right through it? Before I could test it out, I heard carpet-muffled
footsteps stop behind me. I knew it was Liam without needing to turn.
    “We’ve got a lot to talk about and we
can’t do it here. We need to go to my place.”
     I glared at him in response. I was
on fire with rage and resentment, but my mind felt suddenly focused and sharp,
something humming deep within the recesses. I grabbed at the door knob and felt
my hand grip it solidly. I grinned and turned it, swiftly pushing the door
open.
    “What?” Liam was sounding awfully
perplexed. I felt very satisfied with that achievement. “No. No. You can’t do
that.”
    “I just did.” I said to him smugly,
darting through the door and slamming it in his face, locking it quickly behind
me. He was not welcome here.
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
    ~
Chapter Two ~
     
     
     
     
    I
strode through my apartment, looking at everything as I passed from the small
foyer into the living room, up the hall to my kitchen, then back out to the living
room. My mind racing to process and get a grip on the info I’d been given, just
trying to wrap my mind around it, and trying to breathe normally. I saw the
contents of each room, saw my favorite things; my art, my photos, my writing,
my clothes, my books, every little meaningful thing jumping forefront to my
sight as a soon to be lost object.
    “I’m dead,” I said it out loud. I felt I
needed to say it aloud. To feel it in my mouth, passing my lips, to maybe get a
better comprehension, to come to terms with it. It felt true. “I can’t stay
here.” I looked at my surroundings.
    I loved this apartment. I remembered
back to when Gigi had first phoned me about its availability. I had jumped
right on it. Prime location near downtown. Excellent price. Spacious. Third
floor with a view of the ocean—well, a slight view. A huge living room, with a
loft bedroom overlooking it. A small room enclosed by French doors at one end
of the living room, perfect for my writing room. Cathedral ceilings. Hardwood
floors. Two sets of French doors in the living room, which allowed in amazing,
refreshing ocean breezes, afternoon sunlight, and beautiful sunsets.
    “Lissa!” I heard him yell through the
door.
    This was home, my home. And now I was
being forced to leave. I spun around, taking it all in. My heart bursting with
the need to cry and scream and fight and argue. But there was no time. Instead
I just growled and cursed to the room. I heard the soft, insistent knocking on
my door and chose to ignore it.
    “Usher,” I sneered flippantly. “Screw
you!” I screamed towards the foyer and the front door. “And my name IS NOT
LISSA!!”
    I heard my door open and close, heard
footsteps on the wood floor, coming toward me.
    “You can’t stay here. You need to
come with me. I am very sorry, sweetheart, but you have died—”
    “Shut up. Get out. I’m not going
anywhere with you!” I seethed at him, interrupting him as I shoved him back
towards the door. How had he gotten in anyway?
    “There are things I have to explain to
you and we can’t do that here.”
    I looked all around me, trying to take
it all in, my place, my things. I’d worked so hard for it all. I