How far can one go to test the boundaries of loyalty?
Abigail has spent her whole life trying to forget her father Jack, who left her years ago and never looked back.
After Jack’s wife disappeared, Abigail knew she couldn’t leave her 7-month-old half sister alone with her father.
Abigail uncovered clues of her past and she knew something was terribly wrong…. she sees Cara is in danger.
Abigail is left with a very important decision.
And then it came. The knock on the door, the flashing lights in the driveway.
There was only one thing at this point she was certain of.
Her world was about to change……Forever.
Targeted Age Group:: Adults
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I'm inspired by the world around me and my experiences, which seem to come my way in a negative way which for me by using even the smallest of events, I can build a story on it. This is derived from my childhood, with my father leaving me at a very young age, and I built on that emotion.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I never know how the characters will come out until I start typing. They get created as I go. Sometimes I use personality traits by the people around me and build on that. Mostly once the story unfolds, my true character is revealed.
It all began when I was four years old. I remember everything; from hugging
my knees and gently rocking back and forth to hiding in the closet, which
became my “safe place.” My parents were fighting again; I heard them
screaming at each other from downstairs. My mom began to cry. I only heard
bits and pieces, but it all revolved around a woman named Alison. My Dad
sounded mad. I didn’t understand what was going on, we used to be such a
happy family but things had begun to change.
My mom and I had to move to a new house, a smaller house. It only had
one bedroom and a bathroom with faulty plumbing. It was a drastic change
from our last house; which held large spacious bedrooms and two modern
bathrooms. My mom said we had to downgrade because it was all she could
afford on her own; I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it wasn’t good.
Our food took a hit as well. Instead of quality meats and fresh produce our
menu now mainly consisted of cereal, crackers and meals that came from
My mom spent a lot of time crying and so did I. Often times I could hear
her sob from my bedroom; it would keep me up at night and make me sad. I
would crawl into her bed, where she would hug me tightly and promise me
that everything would be alright. I was starting to get a strange and horrible
feeling in the pit of my stomach; my dad didn’t spend the night here anymore,
he couldn’t check for the monsters under my bed, or read me my bedtime
stories. But a part of me was glad. When my dad left, the screaming stopped.
The yelling scared me, and it made my mom cry. I did not like it at all, and
once, I even got mad at my dad and told him to leave because all he ever did
was make mom cry.
Today, my dad had taken me out for ice cream. It did not feel the same.
It seemed as though he were mad at me, he barely spoke, barely looked at me.
It had scared me and I started to cry for my mom. My dad brought me home
quickly after that and he promised he would see me again tomorrow; we were
going to spend the day at the beach. After my dad brought me home, I ran
for my bedroom and forgot to give him a hug and kiss on the cheek. Once I
was in my room, the screaming started downstairs. I jumped and hugged my
teddy closer as the front door slammed shut. I heard my dads truck start, and
then he was gone.
Footsteps sounded outside my closet, and my mom quietly peeked her
head inside. “Hey, kiddo what are you doing in there?” My mom’s voice was
slow and sad, so I motioned for her to sit beside me.
She did. I gave her one of my favorite teddy bears. “Here mommy, Bear
will make you feel better.”
My mom nodded, and then she started to cry. I watched her wide eyed
and crawled into her lap. She hugged me tightly, and we rocked back and
forth until her tears stopped falling. I never saw my dad after that.
I lay in bed and stared absently at the white ceiling; last night’s troubled dream
still played through my head. I turned onto my side and stared at my night
table that was littered with pictures. Most of the photos were of my friends,
and my mother and I. My eyes lingered onto a picture that was starting to
fade; it was a picture of my father, Jack. In the photo he knelt down, laughing,
and I was wrapped safely in his arms. A look of wonder spread across my
features. My heart ached immediately. It was one of the few images I kept of
my father; most of his photos were torn up in bitter disappointment. I sighed
heavily, reached out, and lay the picture down so I could not see it anymore.
As I groggily sat up and reached for my worn out jeans, somehow I knew
things were going to change and I would soon find myself away from
everything comforting and familiar.
Once I was dressed, I found my mom bustling around in the kitchen. A
pan dropped and some words were muttered that were better left unsaid. I
chuckled; my mother’s strong points did not include her kitchen skills.
“Good morning, Mom,” I said cheerfully.
“Good morning, Abby. Did you sleep okay?” My mother’s pretty face
crumpled slightly as she glanced my way.
“My sleep was….err eventful so to speak.”
“Nightmares; again?” This time my mother’s big hazel eyes grew wide with
A spasm of panic ignited within me. I had put my mother; Jenna, through
some hard times without even meaning too. My parents divorce had been
hard on me, though I tried not to show it, and without even realizing it, I had
caused my mother to constantly worry about me. I stared at her now; her large
hazel eyes showed her every thought; which suited her perfectly, my mom did
not know the meaning of the world subtle. Today, her normally tidy auburn
hair was askew and her eyes held a secret.
”No, not really, they were actually quite comical.” I lied, and put on my
most convincing smile.
“Well, okay then.” With a quick nod, my mother went back to attempting
to make something she thought would be considered tasty.
As I absently read a book, I was aware my mother stopped fussing, and she
watched me intently. I couldn’t quite read the look on her face. My heart
raced slightly, what was that look? Worry? Doubt? Concern? Caution even?
“Mom,” I said strangely. “What is it?”
My mother tidied her hair with a grace that I suddenly envied. Her eyes
darted away as she fluttered her thick lashes and pursed her perfect lips. I
knew she would tell me. My mother and I held an odd relationship. We were
very close, more like friends, best friends even. She did not hold her authority
above me, yet I respected it completely I was responsible, she was carefree, but
somehow we always got by.
“Your father called.” My mother’s silky voice went on cautiously, “Alison
left.” My shoulder’s relaxed and I pulled my long hair up in an unconscious
effort.“Oh” I sighed, “Is that all?”
I felt a stab of guilt. I heard my usual kind voice turn frosty. Alison had
left my father. Why should I feel guilty? He left us for her. I had no respect
for the woman my father broke up our family for. He left us and he never
looked back, he had made his choice. In my mind, the worst part was, she
knew my father was married and had a child, but she wanted him, and she
achieved her goal without a second thought.
“Abby, honey, I have moved on, I forgave him, you should too.”
“Mom,” I groaned. “Can we please let this conversation go? I can’t have it
again. I get it okay? Not all marriages work, sometimes two people are not
meant to be, I know. You are with a great guy now, end of story.”
“Honey, I forgave him. It was hard, but….”
I glanced at my mother and sighed. I knew how hard this conversation
was for her. So, I bit my tongue, and let her go on.
“Abby…you never gave your father another chance. I have had it out with
him; we have talked about what happened many times. I think you need
to…to…” she circled her hands in the air absently “Have it out with him in
your own way, ask questions, get answers.” My mom nodded her head eagerly
like she had achieved something.
“I don’t know. Mom, I will think about it.” I paused. “I’m not very hungry
this morning. I can clean up the kitchen, you need to get ready for work.” I
nodded towards the clock as a silent reminder. I got up, and automatically
started attending to the dishes. My mother sighed. “You are only seventeen
years old, honey. When did you become the mother?”
I turned and saw the smirk upon my mother’s face. “What can I say? You
know how to raise a child well.”
With that, she gave me a kiss on the forehead, and was polished for work
in ten minutes flat. She floated out the door. Twenty minutes later I was ready
for school and headed out to my old black Chevy pickup. My hair was still
casually placed in a messy up-do, my jeans were torn in the knees, and my Tshirt
was nothing that drew too much attention. Unlike my mother. I thought
somewhat self-consciously. She always looked so put together, no matter what
I thought about my mother and I. We shared many of the same features.
We each had long, thick hair, the same petite frame, soft voices, and large
eyes. While my mother’s eyes were hazel, mine were a deep blue. Just like my
fathers. I thought about that for a moment, and stared almost hesitantly into
the truck’s mirror. I may have had my mother’s eyes and hair type, but my
face was a mixture of both my parents, even I couldn’t deny that. While I had
my mother’s small, button like nose and high cheek bones, I shared my
father’s lips, and defined, rounded jaw. I even had his hair color; golden
brown. I sighed, tossed my school bag into the back of my truck, and fired up
the engine. I couldn’t hide from everything he gave me.
“Abby! Hey girl, I thought you were never going to show up!”
I chuckled, leave it to Sarah to brighten up anyone’s day; that girl was on
one permanent happy high.
“Hey, Sarah. Sorry, I know, I know. I’m late!”
“Yeah, but it won’t kill us be a little late for Mrs. Hills daily lecture on
proper…what is it this week? Lady-like behavior? Chivalry is dead?”
I rolled my eyes. “Something like that, yeah.”
“Oh!” Sarah bounced excitedly up and down, sending her blond curls
bouncing. “Guess who finally asked me out!”
It wasn’t a hard guess, she had been flirting shamelessly with one guy
almost the entire semester. “Greg?” I asked casually, hiding my smirk.
“Yes!” Sarah’s voice hit an octave unknown to man.
“Congrats, you have been pursuing him for awhile now.”
Sarah’s green eyes widened, and she wore a shameless smile. “No. I have
not been pursuing him; I have merely been giving him subtle hints.”
“Ahh, okay, if that’s what it’s called.” I grinned and rolled my eyes.
Leave it to Sarah, she could always make me smile. She linked her arm
with mine, and began mindless chatter on what she should wear, and all the
hopes she had pinned onto poor unsuspecting Greg.
“Late again girls!” Mrs. Hill’s shrill voice rang out. Her eyes held no
patience today. “Take your seats, now. This is the second time this week you
have been late!”
Her eyes narrowed from Sarah to me, where her gaze was heavy in
disapproval. I broke the stare and began to scribble mindless doodles across
my notebook. Mrs. Hill blamed Sarah for our tardiness. I knew that. She
thought of Sarah as a wild uncontrollable girl, while she had labeled me as a
student who should know better. I was one of her best pupils; English seemed
to be my specialty. I was graceful with words in a way that lacked in other
areas of my life, gravity being one of them.
Sarah groaned beside me as Mrs. Hill droned on and on about some
upcoming essay, and for some strange reason, my mother’s voice popped into
my head. Alison left your father. What was left unsaid? What was wrong with
our conversation this morning? Cara. What about Cara? Why was she never
mentioned? Cara was Alison’s and my father’s little girl. What was she, about
seven months old now? I made a mental note to ask my mother about her and
ignored the stab of guilt that shot through my heart. I should know how old
my sister was. I ignored the dull ache and tried to push Cara out of my head.
It was hard for me to accept her; I had never met her in person. She existed
only in photographs. I was never ready to meet her. That would make things
too real. Apart of me was jealous; she got to see our father everyday, whereas
I barely remembered the last time I saw him. The other part of me was hurt;
Jack hadn’t left her, but he had left me.
Sarah’s elbow jabbed into me. “Hey, oww!” I squawked.
Sarah narrowed her eyes. “Shhh! You will never guess who is checking you
Sarah cringed as Miss. Hill shot her a glare. “Never mind, here!” She hissed.
I stared down at the note she thrust my way. Here we go, into the inner
high school working of Sarah Carver’s mind.
I think I should wear a little black dress for our first date. Dinner and a movie,
this Friday! Do you think that would be too much? Or—wait! Hello! Josh Brent
is staring at you! He is fine! You know I thought Trish was going out with him?
Or maybe, she got shot down? This is excellent news!
Josh Brent? I glanced up, and sure enough, he was staring. I looked away.
He appeared way too smug. I gave him a condescending glare and turned my
back towards him, hiding my face behind a curtain of hair. Sure, Josh was
gorgeous, and on the football team. All the girls wanted a piece of him, but
there was something about him that did not sit well with me. I decided not
to tell Sarah exactly what I thought of Josh, for she wore that silly
daydreaming look on her face again. I grabbed my pen, and began scribbling
down a response for Sarah.
Don’t wear the black dress, save it for a second date. Wear your good butt
jeans, and a nice top. As for Josh Brent…it is not going to happen. Besides, I don’t
want to be on Trish’s bad side! Let’s leave it at that!
I pushed the note towards her. Sarah’s smile brightened, then fell. Sarah
glanced at me, curiosity heavy in her features. I shrugged my shoulders and
shook my head.
She mouthed. “Whatever, you’re crazy,” putting extra emphasis on the
word “crazy” until Mrs. Hill called on her. Saved by the teacher, and then the
“I won the case today!”
“Oh, Mark that’s incredible! I knew you could!”
I smiled politely. “That’s great Mark, I knew you could do it.”
Mark’s grin would not be going away anytime soon. My mom leaned in
to give him a quick kiss. I absent-mindedly pushed my food around on the
plate. Now or never. I cleared my throat. “What about Cara?”
My mother stared back in shock. Well what do you know, I thought
somewhat guilty, Mark’s grin disappeared after all. His face fell into a puzzled
expression. Concern flitted in his eyes.
My mother answered. “Abby, well….Alison, she…she, just left. Cara’s
with your father. He has been having a hard time with it, it’s putting stress
on his job and he’s pretty upset about the whole situation.”
I let my mother’s words register. How could a mother leave her child? A
seven month old child at that. “She just left? How could she do that! And
alone with Jack?” “Your father,” my mother corrected me sternly.
I glared. “Fine, with my father. He has no clue about kids; he couldn’t
even deal with me!” As I said those words, the tears seeped forward. I closed
my eyes. I would not let them fall now.
My mother’s face looked pained and she softened her voice. “Oh baby, do
you think that’s why he left? That he couldn’t deal with you? It’s not that at
all, it was never you. The issues your father and I had were just that, ours. We
were young, we didn’t always make the best decisions.”
“Well, he didn’t try very hard with me, Mom. It was what? Six years before
he tried contacting me again? Doesn’t say very much, does it? And I don’t
really think a Christmas card here and there really counts.”
My mother’s eyes filled with sadness, and then anger sparked up as she
thought back to those dark days. “Your father doesn’t always make the best
Mark shifted uncomfortably and I felt my sympathy go out to him. It
wasn’t fair to drag him into something so uncomfortable, especially on his
special day.“I’m sorry Mark. Mom, can we discuss this later?”
My mother gave a quick nod and I turned back to Mark. “So Mark, tell
us all the details!” Mark’s face brightened as he chatted happily away, revealing
a very detailed play by play.
A few hours later we found ourselves sitting in the living room staring
down at an envelope stamped from the university of my choice.“Aren’t you
going to open it?” My mother exclaimed in what she thought was a calm
voice, but anticipation rang thick. She squirmed excitedly. I, however, didn’t
feel the same emotion. I stared blankly at the envelope, my stomach in knots.
How could one envelope, one piece of paper, make me feel ill?
I looked from my mother to Mark and placed a lopsided smile on my face.
I glanced once more at the envelope with my name on it. All my hopes were
pinned to what lay inside. “Well, here it goes…” I spoke in a shaky voice.
“Wait!” my mother interrupted. “Let me get the camera!”
I shot Mark a horrified look, and we both spoke in unison. “No!”
I ripped open the envelope, and hesitantly unfolded the paper. My eyes
quickly scanned the first sentence. Congratulations Abigail Taylor. We are
My jaw dropped; I didn’t even finish reading it. “I got in! I GOT IN!!”
I jumped up and down, and embraced both Mark and my mother’s warm
hugs. As I stood back to glance at their faces, I suddenly knew what I was
going to do. It was only a matter of time.
I closed my eyes and thought back to when I was eight years old. Things were
bad. My mother tried her best to make things work. She had taken on two
jobs, but that meant she barely saw me, and she ran herself ragged. My
Grandmother had stepped in and taken us in into her picturesque two story
white house, which was surrounded by a sea of colors from her garden. It was
a welcomed sight. When it rained, the roof didn’t leak, I remembered being
surprised pots were actually used to cook meals instead of acting as buckets.
The shower had warm water, there was working heat, and the best part of all
was the food; my Grandmother was an amazing cook. Things were starting
to look up. My mother went back to school to finish her Teaching Degree,
and I was always well looked after. Still, something was missing in my life; my
father. I felt so betrayed by him; I didn’t understand how he could walk away
so easily. I also felt remorse. It was something that I had never shared with
my mom, but apart of me wondered if he had left because of me. I
remembered back to when my parents fought, my name had come up a few
times. Worry fell heavy over me; did I do something to drive my dad away?
Did I not hug him hard enough? Did I forget to tell him that I loved him?
Or, was it simply that he had stopped loving me?
While I snooped through my mother’s things one afternoon I found my
father’s mailing address folded in an old book. I wrote him a letter every week
for almost a year. I told him how bad things were. I begged and pleaded for
him to come back. I apologized for yelling at him and forgetting to give him
a hug and kiss on the last day I saw him; I apologized for everything I had
ever done wrong in my young life. I told him how much I missed him, and
how scared I was when he was not here. I must have checked the mail at least
three times a day that year, waiting. I never received anything. The day I
turned nine years old I made a silent promise to myself; if Jack would not
come see me, I would go see him when the timing was right, whether he
wanted me or not.
Eight years later, it looked like my day had finally arrived. I made a quick
mental calculation before I spoke. I could easily transfer high schools. I was
an honor student; I could catch on fast to the new curriculum. Besides, where
I would be going was a small, cold, wintry town. I was pretty sure their
academics would be well behind my current school. I would miss my friends
terribly; I had always hoped to graduate with them but sometimes life throws
you unexpected curveballs. This may turn out to be one of those moments I
may look back on later on and regret; but for some reason, I felt a strong sense
The university would only be a fifteen minute drive from my father’s
house. I had always planned on moving out that way when the time came to
start my new academic journey. Living with Jack had never entered my mind,
but if I could make this work, there was a chance I could escape the cost of
rent. There would be no distractions. I could focus all my intentions strictly
on school. I would treat my new home life like a job, I didn’t need to
necessarily like, or love anyone. I was responsible, I was confident in my
abilities. I knew what it was like to grow up without a parent. I don’t know
why, but my heart ached for little Cara. I resented her, but I also loved her.
She was after all, my half-sister. I was her big sister; surely I had some sort of
a duty to her?
I opened my eyes and faced my parents. I took a shaky breath and dropped
the bomb. “I’m going to move in with Jack. He needs help with Cara. I am
doing this for her, not him. I’ll talk to the principal tomorrow, and let them
arrange it with the high school out there…” I sucked in a breath as I watched
my mother’s face pale.
“Abigail!” My mother’s shrill voice stung.
“Mom, please don’t. I don’t know why, but I feel that I, well… I feel that
it’s my responsibility. I am going to move in with my father.”
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Katt Rose is an aspiring young writer who has a love of music, animals (horse lover) and writing. Katt is a true country girl at heart and would always rather be outside in her garden, on the beach or somewhere in the woods on her horse with her faithful dog by her side.
Katt studied Creative Writing and Journalism in University but decided to step into the health care field, after nursing her Oma back to health.
Years passed, but Katt could not silence the stories in her head. Once she began to write, she knew there would be no turning back. She was home. She is most proud of winning best fiction Apple Award of Excellence.
Katt Rose aims to be a well-known best-selling author, from the perfect stranger to someone you know. Remember, no dream is out of reach