Title: Fragile Line Author: Brooklyn Skye
Publisher: Entangled Teen
Release Date: April 21, 2014
More Info: Goodreads
Purchase: Amazon US
Purchase: Amazon UK
It can happen in a flash. One minute she’s kissing her boyfriend, the next she’s lost in the woods. Sixteen-year-old Ellie Cox is losing time. It started out small…forgetting a drive home or a conversation with a friend. But her blackouts are getting worse, more difficult to disguise as forgetfulness. When Ellie goes missing for three days, waking up in the apartment of a mysterious guy—a guy who is definitely not her boyfriend, her life starts to spiral out of control.
Perched on the edge of insanity, with horrific memories of her childhood leaking in, Ellie struggles to put together the pieces of what she’s lost—starting with the name haunting her, Gwen. Heartbreakingly beautiful, this poignant story follows one girl’s harrowing journey to finding out who she really is.
Excerpt
Dripping with sweat, I trail Shane into the gym. A few feet separate us in the hall and he hasn’t once looked back. Even still—I know he knows I’m here. Behind me, the door swishes open and laughter echoes; two freshman from the JV team are reciting lines from an eighties movie. The same one I watched with Shane not too long ago. Before I disappeared with some boy named Griffin, and before Shane decided I no longer existed.
Anxiously, I skip a few steps and place my body in front of his just before he enters the boys’ locker room.
“One minute. That’s all I ask.”
“No.” He shoves past me, knocking my shoulder into the door. Quickly, I snatch his arm in my hand.
“God. Why won’t you just let me explain?”
He whirls around, fast and hard, brushing my hand away. “Explain?” His fist collides with wood right beside my head, the sound resonating in my chest. “You fucking cheated on me, Ellie.” His muscles clench tight against his shirt, face still flushed from the four-mile jog we just completed. “What is it that you need to explain?”
“That it wasn’t me!” I told myself I wasn’t going to cry, that I would just explain to him about the blackout and how I don’t remember any of it, but my eyes, filling with tears, didn’t seem to get the message. I cover my face with my hands.
“Right,” he says, fury and disbelief fighting for a place in his tone. Slipping past the door, he calls over his shoulder, “That wasn’t you. Just someone who looks like you?”
The door shuts with a click. Final, just like the sound of his voice, and I want to scream. To run in there and tell him that yes it was my body in that picture, but somehow I wasn’t in control of it. Like sleepwalking, or being hypnotized, or… or…I don’t even know.
All I know is it wasn’t me.
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