Island Rush
Authors: Marien Dore
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Copyright © 2016 by Marien Dore
All Rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known, hereinafter invented, without express written permission of BLVNP Inc. For more information contact BLVNP Inc.The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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DISCLAIMER
This book is a work of FICTION. It is fiction and not to be confused with reality. Neither the author nor the publisher or its associates assume any responsibility for any loss, injury, death or legal consequences resulting from acting on the contents in this book.The author’s opinions are not to be construed as the opinions of the publisher.The material in this book is for entertainment purposes ONLY. Enjoy.
Praise for Island Rush
I absolutely loved this book! This book is for MATURE READERS as it is rated R on Wattpad by the author. This my second time reading it as I read it several months ago and loved it just the same!
This was my favourite book from Wattpad in 2013, read it a good three or four times. I enjoyed every chapter, it was very dark, emotional and slow paced but that made me enjoy it more because then I could savour the characters for a bit longer. To this day I still remember most of the scenes and I also remember crying a lot. This book holds a piece of my heart no one else can reach. :D
Island Rush is a special book I read on Wattpad many years ago. It's a kind of story that I have never seen done before, and it is so unique that I wish I could revisit it over and over again.
-Heather, Goodreads
This book is amazing. One of my absolute favorites. I remember reaching the end and commenting that the end felt, "like cymbals softly crashing and a harp playing it's last little finishing notes..." I highly recommend this to any romance lover.
-Julia Pantzer, Goodreads
I absolutely loved this story the plot twists and the way everything flowed it was amazing I absolutely adored all of the intensity and the way it ended wonderful book Kudos to Marien Dore you are an amazing writer keep up the good work.
-Kaitlyn Goodreads
Island Rush
By: Marien Dore
ISBN: 978-1-68030-411-4
©
Marien Dore 2016
Table of contents
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He stood in front of my desk, eyeing the phone I was hiding under it. The man looked annoyed and angry, just as I was. When he paused giving his lecture, and snatched my phone mid-text, what else was I supposed to feel other than anger?
As my gaze traveled up along with the phone, I caught his eyes that were now focused on me. The intensity of his deep brown eyes penetrated my senses. The young face of my teacher looked smooth and perfect. There was not one strand of his straight, brown hair out of place. There was not one wrinkle in his shirt, no facial hair or a sign of such, and not one tooth was crooked.
It was hard not to notice all that about him. He was the most attractive man in this room. I would even dare say the most attractive man I’ve seen at East Craftridge High, which took its name after our hometown. Thing was, he was just so… organized. There was not one thing out of place when it came to him, which just annoyed the hell out of me. I guess, he was a good teacher too. I would never tell him that though.
There was one thing that was weird, though: he was always watching me. I caught him staring at me during a test or when we were doing our other work in class as he sat behind his desk. With the looks, he gave me, most held nothing but the interest of observing. Blank-faced and just curious. When he would see I caught him looking, he would turn back to his work in front of him.
One of the first times I caught him staring at me was when I was in the middle of taking a test. His eyes were not of a robotic-like man for once; it wasn’t professional that time. He had fire I had never seen before. A fire that lit up his features. He had quickly looked away, though.
I knew that it either meant nothing or that I read his expressions wrong because of a framed picture that sat on his desk. It was of his girlfriend and apparently, they recently became engaged. I had to remind myself that I didn’t care. Didn’t care about him, his soon-to-be wife, or his happy future.
At this moment though in the present, as he now held my phone, he was annoyed. I smirked up at him from where he stood beside my desk, showing that he in no way had any effect on me. I was radiating a mask worthy to be called an actual face for how often I used it. Nobody could tell I was hiding anything after so much practice.
“Obviously, I am boring you. The only reason you would be texting your friends during my class would be because you must understand the subject. So would you like to go to the board and do an example of what this lesson covers?” Mr. Rush asked, voice smooth and beautiful even though it held an annoyed tone.
Fixing my eyes on his with my head tilted up, I tried not to falter from his eye’s effect on me. “No, I don’t want to. I don’t understand any of this and don’t care to. But, you are right saying you are boring me.”
He just stared at me. He was used to my dumb comebacks. Nobody would ever dare talk back to him — nobody in my class anyway. All except for me and I did it all the time. Some of the brave ones in the class let out a chuckle as I remained with my gaze locked on his.
“You do realize that we are a week away from the trip to the Bahamas, correct?” His eyes narrowed with fine eyebrows framing them. His long fingers were flipping the phone around in his hands mindlessly as he stood straight with his shoulders back. “There is still time for you to receive another detention. As you know, any student who has over five detentions this year will not be going. One more and you aren’t going.” He gave me a look that dared me to go on. He would know too. I got four detentions this year, and all were given to me by him. I quickly shut my mouth. I needed this trip more than he could imagine.
I refused to get another detention. I worked too hard all school year to earn the money back I had to pay to go. If I get another detention, all that hard work would be lost considering we already paid the school. There were no refunds. Plus, it was only a week away as the end of school neared.
“You can have it back at the end of today, Janice,” Mr. Rush sighed as he put my phone on his desk.
He went back to the lesson he was teaching. I sighed, eyeing my phone with trembling worry. He didn’t understand. Nobody did, and I gave nobody the chance to either. He didn’t know how important it was to obey my dad. He didn’t know that it was him I was texting.
I pretended to listen like I always did. As usual, my mind was elsewhere. Like how was I supposed to convince my boss to give me a raise? I was stupid for deciding to go to the Bahamas with the juniors. But at the time, I didn’t know I would need the money for something else now. Compared to the price for the Bahamas, it would take a lot more money to bail my brother out of jail. A raise wouldn’t get me close to the amount I needed for my brother, but it would help.
At the end of the day, I walked to Mr. Rush’s classroom down the nearly empty hall. I opened the big wooden door and entered. He sat, looking dazed, which was shocking for a jerk like him. He was a very serious teacher after all. Always so strict, never really social, never joking or showing many feelings. However, he was tense in his chair and appeared worried. I stared for a moment, taking in the sight. I didn’t think he had it in him to feel worried.
When he finally noticed I was there, he jumped up and seemed even guilty. His eyes locked on mine, and he was breathing hard. It was so unlike him. I mean, this is the kind of dude who knew everything before it happened, having planned everything. Often, he just looked bored. Strangely now, though, he was surprised with a face full of emotions.
He didn’t look annoyed or mad at me. He usually is when I came after school to his room. Not to mention, this was the first time he caught me texting. Usually, I would just talk back in class. I accomplished both today.
After that dazed expression had calmed slightly, he grabbed my phone and moved around his desk. He didn’t waste time when he approached me with averted eyes.
“What’s with you?” I asked, taking my phone back.
“Nothing,” he replied. “I-I just realized I’m late for something.”
Wow, he actually stuttered. I knew he was lying. He just wanted to be away from me. That much was clear so I didn’t waste time. I quickly turned away from him and left, not wanting to be anywhere near him.
I reluctantly left and headed home to a dirty house as usual. Plates were piled high in the kitchen and on the glass coffee table. Dust drenched over everything. The floor was cluttered with clothes, shoes, and empty bottles. I saw, thankfully, my dad was passed out on the couch, drunk. It was great for me; I didn’t need to face him. I headed to my room and threw my bag of textbooks on the floor like I always did after school. It wouldn’t be acknowledged until tomorrow morning.
After just laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I heard my door open. It was a sound alone sent chills through my body. I knew who it was. Who else lived here? I wasn’t looking forward to this encounter in the least. When I moved and jumped to my feet, there my father stood.
His hair stood up straight on the side where his head had been pressed against the couch pillow. The rest of his graying hair was in knots. His cheeks and below his nose were full of little gray hairs. What caught my attention about him was his brown eyes and big feet that couldn’t focus where they were heading. Which is how he ended up on my floor.
“You
dint
tex... back,” he said with slurred words.
I don’t know why I had hope that he would forget about me not texting him back. After all, I hadn’t finished before Mr. Rush took my phone. Mr. Rush thought it was a friend I was texting. He was way off. I don’t have many friends to begin with.
I stared at him on the floor. His aging face filled with anger and rage, aimed at me. He used my open door for support after he crawled over and lifted himself to his feet. He stumbled until he reached where I was standing in the middle of my room. My dad didn’t hesitate to back me up into the corner.
“I-I’m sorry. I had my phone taken away by my teacher. But I am asking for a raise, and I will get the money,” I said for what must have been the fifth or sixth time to him. He was always too drunk to remember.
I wanted to hurt him. I really did. I stared into his cold eyes, trying not to flinch as he squeezed my shoulders hard. Even drunk, I couldn’t fight him. Couldn’t run otherwise that could be my last action. I would like to think it would take hardcore resistance for him to kill me. But I feared it wouldn’t take much. I knew by now to trust his threats.
It was crazy to think that after all these years as a family, this is what it came to. It came to me being cornered and harassed by my dad. If I had just paid more attention and didn’t ignore the signs, my life could have been different. If I didn’t ignore the family issues, I could have done something. I will always be guilty for it. I came to the realization of that a few months ago…
One morning last autumn, I didn’t wake from my alarm clock. But rather my father shaking me out of my slumber. He was over me, and when my eyes cleared, I saw tears in his. Beside him was a man in a dark uniform. I instantly recognized him as an observing police officer.
I tried questioning what was happening. My father didn’t waste time, though. He wrapped an arm around my back and guided me quickly out of my bed. With the man following, I remember my eyes were all over the place as they rushed me down the stairs and to where the open living room was. I noticed the burning smell of blood with each step taken. Then I quickly noticed the people and the small chatter that filled the room when we reached the bottom of the steps.
My dad and the officer didn’t allow me to pause and take in the insane sight. They pushed me towards the front door, but it did them no good. I took in enough with my needy eyes. Took in the men and women in the living room. Everything was covered in plastic; the couch, chairs, small items, decorations. One woman with dark curly hair was snapping a picture of a dark puddle on the floor.
Then… my eyes drew to my mother. Her white gown she wore to sleep was smeared in red. There were slits in the fabric, exposing the liquid color. The whole time, I tried talking. Speaking, protesting, exclaiming, and demanding. It all cut off at that one sight.
She was dead. I knew it from her brown hair sprawled in the blood. Her soft skin was pale. The worst part… was her wide open eyes. Those glossy blue eyes were stained expressionless. She was being covered in plastic and soon disappeared from my moving view. My father and the man couldn’t rush me out in time. I passed out right then, mid forceful stride.
When I woke, I saw I was in a parked ambulance, the back doors open. It gave me the sight of my house. The front door of the house was on the ground off of its hinges and broken as people swept in and out. I looked up at a woman by my side. She quickly told me to rest. I don’t know how she expected me to just calm down after an image of my mother like that scarred my brain for life.
I knew I wouldn’t be calming down when my eyes looked beyond her and out the ambulance doors. I saw my older brother, Alex. He was being hauled from the house, cuffed and blood staining his clothes. His bright brown eyes meet mine, anger flooding his stare. They put him on the back of one of the many cop cars and, without thought, I was out and charging at the car with him in it. He did it, and I knew it at that moment. He killed my mother — our mother — and it was in his eyes as tears ripped through mine.
Before I could do anything, a pair of strong arms stopped me. I turned to see my father, with a couple cops approaching me as well. It was such a blur… I just know I felt so much pain and hatred when I realized what had gone down.
“He did it, didn’t he?!” I growled up at one of the cops, who was ready to help stop my fighting and quivering body. My gaze then caught my dad.
“Calm down,” was the only response I received besides them restraining me.
“No, just let me go! He did it. He did it! He did it, he did it, he did it.” I was sobbing by that point, and I remember my knees going numb. I could no longer support myself – or the need to attack my brother.
The cop held my shoulders firmly until I quieted enough. Then my dad spoke. “D-Don’t worry, he’s not going anywhere for now,” he said in a tore up voice. An officer jumped in, hoping to maybe help, but he didn’t.
