All Chapters of Mallory's Melody: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

MALLORY'S HEART SANK TO HER WAIST as Jason Trevor drew nearer. She tried turning in the other direction, but her body stayed put, unresponsive. It seemed as though Jason was magnetizing her, counteracting all her efforts to run off. But the moment he was near enough to choke her with his aromatic cologne, the magnet wore off."Mallory, wait!" He caught ahold of her sweater

Cole's days were numbered.He'd known it for a couple of years now, as a matter of fact. But never quite gave much thought about it. Now, lying on the hospital bed, and wincing at the pain of the syringe passing a cold solution into his debilitated body, he was beyond certain he had much less limited time than he thought. His soul was the most feverish at this time of infirmity, swelling with the anticipation of returning to its creator. But in contrast was his heart, sunken and drained, battered by the unbearable reality of h

Eric Rossi sat in the darkness and drummed against his steering. His mind had been drifting back and forth for the past five minutes, preoccupied by the unsettling session he'd had with Mallory Trent. The competition was no less than hours away. He had to keep firm registration of the moves and steps that constituted his choreography with Mallory tomorrow. But no matter how much he searched for focus, distraction kept creeping into the tresses of his mind, fiddling with his brains, and banishing every form of reason he'd managed to cumulate. Distraction that came in the form of Mallory Trent, the appeal in her willingness to listen, the softness in her sympathy-bedecked voice. Eric threw himself against his chair and sighed heavily, a smile beyond his will d

"Yes, Eric. He was found lying in the driveway this morning, unconscious, and — according to the medical specialists—badly beaten up."Mallory winced, unable to register Mr. William's words, that Eric Rossi, the guy she'd danced into the night with yesterday was unconscious? She rubbed her temples and held on to the armrest of her chair for support, fighting off the wave of vertigo gaining on her. It was impossible. She'd walked Eric Rossi to his car that night, she'd hugged him and wished him goodbye. In fact, the

Mallory hardly ever dreamt.But for four nights in a row, she'd been dreaming. And she had no problem with its reoccurrence. What grated on her nerves was the uniformity about the dreams. Perhaps she might've dreaded it less if they were a little more dynamic, garnished with the spice of variety. But no. It was the same old, boring visions—terrors if she was to describe it—each time. So, what she did tonight was simple—