Genre: YA Thriller
Word count: 57,000
My Main Character is most uncomfortable with:
The winter. She looks forward to the spring, longer days full of brilliant sunlight, and summer vacation!
For seventeen-year old Tara, her cousin’s death is a distant memory. Until the day she comes home from school to find Beth’s name scrawled across the bedroom wall and her aunt wandering the woods searching for her cousin.
With her delusional aunt insisting Beth is alive, Tara digs for clues related to the decade-old cold case and stumbles upon a missing diary. In its pages, her cousin detailed a murder plot. And Tara realizes the dead body in the stream was supposed to be hers, not Beth’s.
Then a girl bearing an uncanny resemblance to Beth moves in next door and, one by one, people begin to die. After a near fatal attack on her life, Tara realizes her cousin hasn’t given up. Ten years later, she still wants Tara dead.
To survive, Tara tries to piece together the past. But that could mean unearthing secrets about herself and her family, secrets left buried for a reason. Like her mother’s insanity and the darkness she fears she inherited. And the real reason behind Beth’s death.
Survival could come at the cost of Tara’s sanity, and ultimately, her humanity.
First 250 words:
A decade ago today, my cousin walked into the woods and never returned. And, ever since then, I prayed my aunt would finally let her go.
I averted my gaze from the woods and opened my gate, dreading the grief I’d see on my aunt’s face and the shadows in her faded blue eyes.
Ten years since my cousin’s death, and we were nowhere near closure.
I paused on the front porch and waited for the sound of the double locks and the safety chain being opened, as always a sure sign my aunt had been lurking by the window and had spotted me. I’d gotten used to it. Like biking home straight from school because I knew she had me timed to the second.
But the door remained shut. I reached for the knob. It turned under my touch and the door swung open. I frowned. She wouldn’t leave it open.
My voice cut through the silence in the living room, my gaze darting to the chipped rocking chair in the corner, her favorite spot in the house. Her shawl lay crumpled on the floor by the window, next to a tangled roll of pink knitting yarn.