Don't Open Your Eyes

Kids, Teen, Ghost Stories and Horror, Fiction
Cover of the book Don't Open Your Eyes by Ann Halam, Gwyneth Jones
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Author: Ann Halam ISBN: 9781310774324
Publisher: Gwyneth Jones Publication: March 26, 2014
Imprint: Smashwords Edition Language: English
Author: Ann Halam
ISBN: 9781310774324
Publisher: Gwyneth Jones
Publication: March 26, 2014
Imprint: Smashwords Edition
Language: English

Moving into a proper house with a garden was a dream come true for Diesel and her mum and dad. The dream quickly turned sour when they found out they were living next door to the notorious Knight brothers (a crime wave all by themselves). Every night, all night it was noise and loud music. When the boys' mother was at home for a change it was even worse, the screaming and drunken abuse never stopped. But Martin Knight smiled at Diesel as she walked by. Diesel smiled back, and with just that one smile they'd started something doomed that couldn't be stopped. "You're a go to church on Sunday, knives and forks on the tablecloth sort of girl," said Martin. "I'm a pizza-from-the-box sitting on the scummy dirty carpet sort of boy." It was never going to work. Diesel wasn't prejudiced but something deep inside told her this was going nowhere: Martin was too far gone: too deep-down broken to be mended. It broke her heart, but that was only the beginning. It was afterwards, when she thought she and Martin were parted forever, that things got really bad. More horrible, more terrible than she could have believed possible. And yet she still loved him, and he loved her; and came to her for comfort. Maybe that was the worst, most foul and terrible part of all.

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Moving into a proper house with a garden was a dream come true for Diesel and her mum and dad. The dream quickly turned sour when they found out they were living next door to the notorious Knight brothers (a crime wave all by themselves). Every night, all night it was noise and loud music. When the boys' mother was at home for a change it was even worse, the screaming and drunken abuse never stopped. But Martin Knight smiled at Diesel as she walked by. Diesel smiled back, and with just that one smile they'd started something doomed that couldn't be stopped. "You're a go to church on Sunday, knives and forks on the tablecloth sort of girl," said Martin. "I'm a pizza-from-the-box sitting on the scummy dirty carpet sort of boy." It was never going to work. Diesel wasn't prejudiced but something deep inside told her this was going nowhere: Martin was too far gone: too deep-down broken to be mended. It broke her heart, but that was only the beginning. It was afterwards, when she thought she and Martin were parted forever, that things got really bad. More horrible, more terrible than she could have believed possible. And yet she still loved him, and he loved her; and came to her for comfort. Maybe that was the worst, most foul and terrible part of all.

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