The Thousand Year Curse (The Curse Books), страница 1
The Thousand Year Curse
The Curse Books
Copyright © 2013 Taylor Lavati
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording or by an information storage and retrieval system, without permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is no authorizes, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.
General Editing by Laura Carlson
To contact the author please visit her website at
Table of Contents
Chapter One- High School Hell
Chapter Two- New Friends
Chapter Three- Party Time
Chapter Four- Cave Dream
Chapter Five- Song of Sadness
Chapter Six- Home Sweet Home
Chapter Seven- The Kiss
Chapter Eight- Paradise Springs
Chapter Nine- New Kid
Chapter Ten- Bike Ride
Chapter Eleven- Sunset Beach
Chapter Twelve- Answers
Chapter Thirteen- Dream From Hell
Chapter Fourteen- The Note
Chapter Fifteen- Surprise Visitor
Chapter Sixteen- Colliding
Chapter Seventeen- Morning After
Chapter Eighteen- Preparations
Chapter Nineteen- Twenty Questions
Chapter Twenty- River of Pain
Chapter Twenty One- Punishments
Chapter Twenty Two- Oblivion
Chapter Twenty Three- Challenge Accepted
Chapter Twenty Four- Meeting Charon
Chapter Twenty Five- Hades Isn't Nice
Chapter Twenty Six- Interrogations
Chapter Twenty Seven- Homeward Bound
Chapter Twenty Eight- Time Goes By
Chapter Twenty nine- Slap This
Chapter Thirty- School Dance
We are brought up being told tales of love and triumph. Hell, I should know, I'm in the damn books.
I was brought up being told that there is always a happily ever after and that I deserved one.
Well, what if there isn't?
What if bad things really do happen to good people? I consider myself a good person.
Yes, I have a special skill set where at times,
I'll admit too taking advantage of them.
But still, I'm good.
I never hurt someone until the day she came into my life, those thousands and thousands of years ago.
Her death was my fault. It's always my fault. This curse is my fault.
He doesn't waste one day rubbing that in my face.
I can't help that I love her.
He can't help that he loves her, too.
I wish I could die to end this constant torment. How easy would that be?
I've even asked Hades himself for a swift end.
Of course not.
That would be too damn easy.
I don't deserve this.
Yet here I am, walking back into his trap. I can't stay away from her.
Her very essence calls to me no matter how many miles I shove between us.
Neither can he.
high school hell
I pull in a ragged breath hoping to regain my composure but it's no use. My heart races and spots blur my visions making me stumble out of the bathroom. I collapse onto my bed and the chills take over, wracking my body in long tremors of terror.
With numb hands, I reach towards my night stand for my cell phone needing my crutch. I send out a quick SOS text and hope that Junior is awake.
Shooting pain travels up my chest making my short breath even shorter. With the lack of oxygen I start fearing that I might pass out and the full on panic starts to take over.
"What's wrong?" A worried voice rings out in the room seconds later. My vision is still spotty but I'd know that voice anywhere.
"I can't—" I start to say but I don't have enough breath to even complete a god damned sentence. I'm frustrated with myself for letting the panic take over me again so I start banging my fists on the bed hating this empty person I've become.
"Shh. I've got you now, Ryder." Junior soothes me, holding me tightly in his arms so I can't break free. I try to fight him for a second but eventually melt into his arms loving the comfort he continuously brings me.
Whenever he comes to my rescue like this, it brings me back to my first panic attack about two years ago. I used to be this bubbly, outgoing typical popular girl in school but then one day, my life turned upside down.
My best friend Becca screwed me over. She spread nasty rumors about me to the entire school, turned all of our friends against me and left me to rot on the gym floor. If it weren't for Junior finding me curled up in the fetal position, I would have stayed there paralyzed all day.
I'll never forget the way he stood by me no matter what people said. He took the heat along with me and has been outcasted ever since. The only difference is that he genuinely doesn't give a shit and moved on, making new friends who also have the same I-don't-care attitude.
He could care less what Becca or Kevin, the school power couple, think. He could careless if they call him an emo kid for his colored mohawk or a band geek for playing the drums.
Whereas I let the torture sit inside of me and eat me from the inside out. Is it so bad to want to be included and have friends? I don't think so but through the past few years, I've learned a lot—never trust anyone.
After I'm quiet and coming down from the panic attack, Junior lets me go. I rub my arms up and down, the chills still present in the background but no longer a contributor to my pain.
"I'm sorry." I tell Junior hating how he has to come to my aid all of the time. I definitely feel like I hold him back but I have to be selfish—I need him to get through these.
"Don't apologize. I don't mind." He says, grabbing my desk chair and sitting himself down on the comfortable swirler across from me. He knows the drill by now and if that attack shows anything, it's that the night is going to be a long one.
"I hate that they're starting up again." I say, burrowing my head into my hands hoping that I can just crawl into a dark hole and never come out.
"It's just because you're nervous about tomorrow." He says, "After that, I'm sure they'll fade away again. You just have to know you're okay. I'm here for you." He says rolling over to me and making me look up at him.
"Okay." I say not really convinced.
"I know when you're bullshitting me." Junior says when I roll my eyes in his direction. He tackles me onto the bed, pulling his hand up my side to tickle me. He starts the war and a few minutes later, I can barely breathe but for a different reason.
We end up watching reruns of the Walking Dead in each others arms but it's exactly what I need the night before the start of my senior year. I fall asleep in the crook of his neck but my sleep is far from sweet. I've been having bizarre dreams night after night that leave me restless.
Something is wrong with me. Strange things are starting to happen.
I don't understand it. I can't tell anyone.
I can't tell my dad. He doesn't even know about the bullying at school.
He'll make me see a therapist and I can't go there.
Yesterday, I shut my laptop and the screen cracked in half.
It's not like I slammed it.
I just pushed the top down and the corner shattered.
That night at dinner I put a plate on the table and it crumbled into pieces.
Dad thought I dropped it—I couldn't tell him the truth.
What's happening to me?
It's Monday morning, senior year and I have no idea how I am going to make it. I'm dreading seeing kids and teachers. I'm dreading my classes and lunch period. Everything about today scares me.
Anxious butterflies stick in my throat like cotton as I think about the day and what it entails. I'm pretty sure by the end of the day I may throw them up.
High school is supposed to be the best years of my life, yet school has become the polar opposite. I'm not sure why I'm freaking out because I don't think I can drop any lower in the social hierarchy of high school—even if I tried.
Grabbing my backpack off my neat bedroom floor and keys off my desk, I glance at my cracked laptop screen hating whatever has been going on with me. I stop at the door to give myself a last glance in my full length mirror. Today I am going for invisible—my usual ensemble.
My brown hair hangs at my waist. I don't even bother to style it anymore since my long locks are straight all by themselves. I have the bare minimum of makeup on—just some eyeliner and mascara since my eyes are my best feature.
People are constantly tell me how cool they are. To be honest, my eyes annoy the crap out of me. Sometimes they're green, sometimes they're blue. They change with the weather, or my mood. Sometimes even my outfit affects them. It's stupid. Why can't they just pick a color and stick with it? My eyes makes me different which I don't like.
I fix my button up shirt so it lays flat against my stomach. I'm not fat, but I'm not skinny either by any means. I'm pretty average. A little short but normal weight—normal me.
I'm wearing my favorite pair of skinny jeans. They have a little bit of yellow paint on them from when I painted my room over the summer. The paint makes them seem cool, or so I think.
I'll go for the artistic effect, which is pathetic because I don't have an artistic bone in my body. In fact, I'm not good at anything. No sports, instruments or anything that requires a skill.
I used to run a lot to clear my head. I never ran track or anything. I did it mostly for myself. The past couple of months, running has been the last thing on my mind. I just don't feel motivated anymore.
Clearing my head, I scurry down the stairs jumping the last two. I smile when I make a perfect yet noisy landing at the bottom. Nobody's home so I can act like a ten year old if I want to.
I grab an apple along with the bag lunch my dad left me from the kitchen and hurry out the front door. I spot my little Honda Accord sitting in the driveway looking all old and decrepit. I've beat this baby up, but the car gets me from point 'a' to point 'b' so I can't complain. The exterior is purple with a little bit of rust lining the edges. I change the oil every four thousand miles though, so it runs like it's brand new.
Since I am running a little late, I assume my best friend Junior caught the bus. He didn't show up here for breakfast which is a good sign he's gone. He's more or less my neighbor which is how we originally met.
My dad was alone with me when they first moved here. I think he felt bad when I never had playdates so we went over to welcome them. Junior's dad and mine actually hit it off. It ended up that Junior and I became best friends, too. We've all been a second family to each other ever since.
As I pass his house I spot his mom, Janie sitting on the stoop having her morning coffee. Nothing has changed with this picture. I wave out my window in greeting.
"Hi Janie!" I call out as I slow the car to a stop in front of her mailbox.
"Hey honey! How you feeling?" She asks, sending me her maternal inspection. I love how she thinks of me as her child. She really has looked after me and been a large influence on my life since I met her.
"Eh. Junior catch a ride?" I ask her raising my voice over the hum of my car.
"He jumped on the bus. I told him to give you a break today." She says giving me a knowing smile along with a slight wink.
"Thanks, Janie. See you later!" I start rolling up the window.
"Have a good day!" She adds, waving with the morning paper in her hand as she gives me a genuine smile. I love this woman as if she was my own mother. At times, she is.
School is only about an eight minute drive, depending on traffic. Today is a perfect day so there aren't many cars around. I hit almost every single light though, making me frustrated—so much for being invisible today. I can't hide when I'm running into class late causing a scene.
I curse myself for running late. Then I curse the lights. Stupid traffic lights are messing with me today. I bang my hands on the steering wheel and the light actually changes. Wow, that's lucky. I was about to break my steering wheel in half if that thing stayed red another second.
I park my car in a decent spot which is surprising since the first bell already rang. If there's one thing I can count on—it's time.
I reach for my iPhone off the passenger seat and plug in my headphones. Nothing like some good Secondhand Serenade to calm my first day jitters. I blast Fall For You to tune out the world around me before slamming my door shut. I take a deep breath to try and calm myself as I head towards the big brick building.
As I start walking, the weather changes. Water starts falling, landing on my face in little droplets. It wasn't supposed to rain today. I bring my back pack up over my shoulders to cover my head from the drizzle. Luckily the walk is short so I make it through the doors before I'm too drenched.
I get into class only seconds after the last bell rings. Perfect timing. I quickly glance around the room searching for an open seat and settle into a desk near the windows. The rest of this aisle is nearly empty so I can chill by myself over here.
The teacher introduces himself as Mr. Winters. I've seen him around school before. As I'm half listening to his lecture, I notice his name fits him well. He's an older man, fifty five give or take a few years. He has white hair and gray eyes. They remind me of snow and dark clouds which pretty much equals winter.
It's crazy how some people's names end up fitting them. It's like Junior. Last year he put these huge gauges in his ear. At first, I thought they looked awful and told him I would rip them out. Of course he never did listen to me. Now when I see those huge rings in his ear, they fit. I don't think he'd be Junior without them.
Anyway, my name is beyond stupid. My mother named me Eurydice. My dad was furious. I guess he wanted to name me Morgan, which makes sense because it's a completely normal name. My mom agreed to Morgan but then changed her mind at the last second. Since she gave birth to me it was her choice so my dad was overruled.
Whenever I ask my dad why she changed her mind, he just tells me, "Your mom told me it felt right. She said you had to be named that." Well, thanks for ruining my name, Mom.
When I first went to school nobody could pronounce Eurydice. Hell, I could barely spell the damn name myself. When I was about thirteen, I tried to figure out a nickname. I thought of hundreds. Dee, Die, E, but none fit me right. I wanted something cool. I played with the letters in my name and came up with Ryder.
Ryder sounds much stronger than Eurydice and almost badass. My ex-best friend Becca liked it too, back when I cared what she thought. She told everyone Ryder was my real name. The name stuck and when I got to high school, no one knew the difference.
Mr. Winters drags on for what seems like days on end. It's the usual first day of the year stuff. Introductions, then syllabus, then homework, books and finally reading assignments
The bell finally rings and I jump from my seat excited to talk to Junior next period. Mr. Winters gave us a monstrous book though and if I don't drop it off now, I'll be walking with a hunch for the next week. After ten steps my back is already screaming at me to stop.
My locker couldn't be farther away from all of my classes. I take mostly math classes, near the labs. Not music or art by the auditorium—where my locker is. I've applied all three years for a new locker but let's be real—they don't give a crap.
I'm jogging to my locker when I run straight into what feels like a wall. The thing just popped up out of no where. Letting out a gasp of air, I groan from the pain shooting up my face. After touching my nose, I peek at my fingers and am surprised I'm not bleeding. Whatever I hit felt like pure concrete.
When I look up, there is no wall at all. Only a tall guy standing right in front of me. I hide my face in embarrassment before I get a good view of him shuffling towards my locker, keeping my head pointed down.
"Are you okay?" The guy asks me in a deep, sultry voice that sends goosebumps up my arms. I want to get a look at him to match it to his face but refrain.
"I'm good." I dismissively murmur pushing past him. I'm still in a rush so I open my locker to quickly drop my book off wanting this guy to go away.
"Are you sure you're okay? You hit me pretty hard." He continues to pursue me, following me to my locker. My invisibility plan has gone down the tubes.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just in a rush." I rudely remark. I don't even know who this guy is. From the quick peek he isn't someone I recognize.
When I finally gaze up, I see the most beautiful guy. I use the word guy because he doesn't seem like a boy but more of a man, yet he has a backpack on, which tells me that he's a student. He must be an exchange student because guys my age don't look like him.