Chloe (Made Men, #3)

Josh didn’t look up from his toys.

Chloe only nodded her head, not wanting to stutter out a hello first to her dad. Another shocking thing happened when he just nodded his head and went back to watching his son play.

She saw it right before his eyes left hers—an understanding. The understanding was one of loss, and she could feel he wasn’t any used to his new body than she was.

From what Chloe knew—thanks to big mouth—was that he had suffered a forklift accident and lost the use of his legs, which had happened during the beginning of the school year. He had gained a huge promotion at the factory before the accident and had pulled Elle from public to private school. So, Elle being new at school this year had made the perfect target for Cassandra. Hence, why they were all here at this moment.

“Hello!” A sweet and very pretty woman wearing an apron came from the kitchen.

Elle smiled. “And this is my mom, of course.”

“I would give you a hug, but Elle already warned me you’re not a hugger like me.”

Chloe looked over at Elle, even more nervous now.

“Yeah, I told them you were a germaphobe. You know, touching creeps you out because of germs.” Elle gave her a look, wanting her to play along.

Genius.

She began nodding her head. “Y-Yep. Sorry about t-that.”

“That’s okay, sweetie; no need to be sorry. I’m just glad one of Elle’s friends was finally able to come over. I keep telling her she can have a big sleepover with all her little girlfriends at school.”

Excuse me?

“Oh, Mom, you know I will one day.”

Say what?

“Are you on the soccer team with Elle?”

No thought came to her. Blinking and trying to figure out if this conversation was real was the only thing she could do.

Her mother laughed. “Sorry. I forgot—germaphobe.”

“Yeah, Mom, she doesn’t like getting dirty. Okay, well, we’ve got a bunch of work to do.” Elle headed toward a hall. “Come on, Chloe.”

Realizing this was very real, she quickly went after Elle, not saying another word. Frankly, she had no clue how on earth to respond.

Once they were in her bedroom, Elle went straight to her backpack on her bed, pulling out their project materials.

“Um, Elle …?”

“Yeah?”

“You really are a good liar.”

The strawberry-blonde flashed a smile. “It’s a gift.”

Chloe blinked a few more times, looking at this side of her she hadn’t known existed. “I can’t tell if I’m scared of you or if … You just became my new BFF.”

Elle laughed. “BFF, for sure. Of course, you want to be best friends with the most popular girl in school. Uh … duh!”

“Just as long as you tell all of your friends that I’m your best friend.” She began laughing with her.

Their relationship had just changed for the better. Within a matter of minutes, she felt extremely comfortable around Elle. It just felt right.

“Deal!”

They laughed so hard they started to cry.

“How come you haven’t invited your best friend to any of your soccer games?”

Elle wiped away a tear. “I hear the stands are really germy.”

“Where on earth did you get germaphobe from?”

“Web MD.”

The two laughed until their faces and stomachs began to hurt, and then finally, they were able to stop their laughing fit.

Elle wiped away the final tear. “It also says we might have cancer.”





Eleven





Stuck Between Realities





Chloe lay stiffly in the bed, staring at the white ceiling. She hadn’t thought this far into a sleepover.

Her sleep had been non-existent, but when she did, the nightmares came for her. She had gone many nights without sleep since what had happened to her, and she was going to do that tonight.

Staring at the blank ceiling for hours, she watched her nightmare play before her, unmoving like she had done every night, praying sleep would never come to throw her to the devil once again.



*

The screams were what first brought Elle out of her deep sleep. The violent shaking of the bed was what had completely awakened her.

Sitting up in bed, Elle looked down at the sleeping girl beside her. In sleep was where you found peace, but the dark-haired girl looked like she had found the opposite: torture. Even in the night, she could see the glistening tears that fell from Chloe’s hollow eyes and pained face.

“Chloe … Chloe …” She hoped her voice would be enough to wake her, not wanting to touch her, afraid it would make the nightmare worse.

Chills ran up her spine from witnessing what seemed like possession.

“Chloe!” She reached out…



*

The cold, metal table underneath her was a stark contrast to her burning face from what seemed like pointless crying.

“Please! Stop!” No amount of her kicking and fighting was a match for what felt like millions of hands holding her down.

The laughter from the evil man who held a knife rang through her ears, mocking.

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