You Can't Hide Theresa Sneed (top 10 non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📖

look in his eyes. Cut it out, Sally. She groaned, and fell back against the pillow.

She clutched the sheets between her fingers. There was that, but what really was eating at her were the nightmares. They’d returned—the dreams about that monster she used to call Father. In her latest dream, his eyes had morphed into flaming red fire, and his wicked laugh had seared her soul. She shivered, and took to violent trembling. Stop, now, Sally.

It wasn’t anything new. The violent, uncontrollable tremors had started early in her life and usually had to run their course. At times, the tremors were so painful that in the quiet of the night, only the soft movement of the others in adjoining rooms had comforted her—knowing that there was something else happening, other than the horrific dreams that had caused her fears.

Most times, the cresting of the rising sun had calmed her mind and eased her back into sleep. But today, as the sun rose, so did her fears.

Her anxieties were almost as vicious as the monster that had caused them. “Mother,” she breathed out, her voice trembling. “Mother,” she called out.

A rustling of footsteps in the hallway, brought Elle to her door. “Sally, what’s wrong?”

“I . . . I, um,” she stuttered.

Elle sat down on the bed and took her hand. “You’re shaking.”

Sally pulled her hand away and sat up. She leaned into her mother’s side. “It’s just, it’s just, a bad dream.”

Elle nodded. “I figured as much, sweetie, but what was it about? You seem terribly frightened.”

Sally drew in a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “He invades my dreams.” If she didn’t open her eyes, it’d be like she was talking aloud to herself, and not to someone she was sure didn’t want to listen—to that, at least. Elle had Sam to quiet her fears, but Sally didn’t have anyone, well, except for Breccan. He would totally understand. He’d seen the white van—but wait, this wasn’t about the man in the white van, was it? He did seem vaguely familiar.

Her stomach was in knots. “Mom, I think I’ve seen him before.” She opened her eyes.

Elle looked at her curiously. “Seen who?”

“The man in the white van.” She hadn’t seen Elle the night before, but surely Sam had mentioned him.

“Oh, you mean that guy who asked for directions?”

“Yeah, him. I think I remember him from somewhere.”

Elle shrugged. “Maybe you saw him at the grocery store or something?”

“No, I don’t think so. It feels like an old memory.”

“An old memory?” Elle seemed concerned.

She closed her eyes again. “Yeah, like from before Ireland.” Her eyes popped open.

Elle stood. “Oh, boy,’ she said, shaking her head. “I think your imagination has gone a little too far this time.”

And that’s why she couldn’t talk to Elle, and why she was super glad she hadn’t mentioned Merrick terrorizing her in her dreams. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She had to get off the topic as quick as possible.

Elle gave quick nod. “Yes, I’m sure I am.”

Sally blinked. “Of course, you are,” she mumbled under her breath.

“What was that?” Elle asked, seeming to not hear Sally’s last words.

“Oh, nothing,” Sally said. “Just glad I have you to talk to.” It was sarcasm at its best, but Elle didn’t get that, either.

Elle grinned and gave her a warm hug, which Sally didn’t mind. She suspected that Elle had to dance around anything to do with the past. She imagined Elle’s demons were as bad as hers. The scars Elle had to have received from Merrick were probably unbelievable.

She hugged her back. “Thanks, Mom.”

Elle was probably right anyhow. Her active imagination could wreak havoc on her sometimes and definitely could’ve found their way into her dreams. Gah. It was hard enough being thirteen years old—try being thirteen with a huge secret, a secret you agreed to keep for a very long time.

After breakfast dishes, Sally excused herself. “I’m going for a walk.” She was really meeting Breccan at the park but didn’t want to have to explain herself to Sam or Elle. She was a little nervous about the white van, knowing if it followed her today, her fears would be validated. She’d rather they weren’t. Still, she moved with caution from street to street until she got to the park. Breccan was waiting.

He patted the bench beside him. “My dad ran the plates.”

“Really?” She was ready with whatever horrid thing he was about to reveal.

“They belong to an old man in Dublin.”

“What?”

“Yeah, my dad called him, and the man confirmed it.”

Shocking. Elle and Sam were both right. She felt so ridiculous, but relieved. “Okay,” she said with a sigh, “that’s a relief.”

“Yeah, but, um . . .”

“What? There’s more?” She knew it. She knew she was right. She sat forward.

“Don’t get mad, okay?”

That was not a good way to start a conversation. She pulled back and stared at him. “Why?”

“Please, don’t get mad at me, and don’t move away.”

She started trembling, afraid of his proclamation. There was only one reason why her family would leave Ireland. She pressed her eyes tight, tears slipping past her eyelashes.

He knew.

Breccan knew her secret.

His voice softened. “I looked up the name, Sam Hancock.”

Her eyes flew open, and she jumped off the bench. “You what?”

He looked truly frightened. “I swear, I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

She paced the area in front of the bench, moaning. “You won’t, but your dad will.”

He made a face. “What? Why would my dad tell anybody anything? I didn’t tell him what I know. I looked it up in old newspapers at the library.”

She clapped her hands together and jumped up and down. “Oh!” Elated, she threw her arms around his neck. Embarrassed, she pulled them down just as quickly, and wiped her eyes. “You didn’t? No one?”

“No, not a single person,” he said. “Sally, I am amazed with how well you are holding up, after what happened to your family.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re one of the strongest girls I know.”

“Uh . . . thanks.” Apparently, he didn’t know many