Fear Cuts Like A Blade, Tiffany Bauer [digital book reader .TXT] 📗

My name is Taylor Blade and when I was seven years old I was to go to a party. I had everything from my outfit to my reputation of words picked out. Everything was set and ready. But then I found out I was going to miss the whole event. All because of one little mistake my little sister had made. She thought she had gotten the right ingredients for a cake but had gotten the exact opposite instead.
So we all went to the store, and we all stayed at the store. When we finally arrived back home, the party was over. Or so I thought, as it turned out the party was postponed and the hosts had only told a few people.
So instead of looking like an idiot going to their house like the party was still on, I looked smart for not going to their house until the party had actually begun. When all was said and done I went to the party without much embarrassment and came home with a smile on my face.
That day I learned a valuable lesson: even when a situation looks terrible and like it will end in the worst possible way, it always has, no matter how slim, a chance to end well.
--Twelve years later--
The ideas danced in my head like clouds in the sky. All I needed was a strong wind to clear the air, just one clear thought about which it would be. There were so many choices, and all were so different. To make matters worse, I could only choose one. Or could I choose more?
I still had no clue as to which one I would go with. Not the slightest direction for what lay in front of me. The list was long, but slimmed by the fact I had to be capable of doing it on a daily basis. What I needed was a plan. A good, solid plan.
But first, I needed ice cream. Lots of sweet, frozen ice cream. Placing my hands on either side of my knees I shoved myself off the plush light brown deer skin couch that I received from my aunt a few years back. I walked across the floor, my neon green flip-flops clattering on the dark oak planks with each step, to the soon-to-be dine-in kitchen. The previous owner had taken everything out. And I mean everything. The counters, couches, sinks, tv stands, tables, chairs, bed frames, carpet, rugs, mirrors, and even the doors. Which meant for now, there was absolutely nothing. Unless skeletons of furniture and dust particules counted.
Why I was going to have all this before the week was out without having enough money to even buy a car?  Because of my two friends, Kate Kasslyn and Jessica James, aka Kate and JJ. Kate had wondrous woodworking and construction skills and put them to good use with her business, Kate's Konstruction. Which did little things like clearing weeds for a backyard garden to big things like making a mansion the size of Mount Rushmore. She wore long denim skirts and skinny jeans with graphic tees and brown knee high nagahide boots or black biker boots.
She owned a gloss black bullet bike with a loud exhaust and a highly amplified stereo and speaker system. The bike rode a little high for her 5' 6" solid build. her choice of weapons were guns, especially Glocks. Even with her permit to carry concealed she'd still been arrested and thrown in jail for it.
Basically, Kate was one year younger, two inches taller, six pounds heavier, and ten times cooler than me. JJ, in her long multicolored fluffy skirts and slim neon animal print dresses, was always out looking for the future trend. Armed with her bow, arrows and blood red lipstick was numero uno in the world of clothes designing.
She had magnificent cosmopolitan skills and fantastic outfit coordinating skills and held her own line of fashion known as EC style, which consisted of dresses, skirts, tops, leggings, high heels, and sandals, as did her wardrobe. She had wavy brown hair streaked with blonde, the waves caused by constantly being braided or curled, and dark brown eyes that seemed too big for her know-it-all attitude.
She had a green 400 horsepower '69 fastback Mustang with yellow racing stripes down the center and speakers so loud they'd rattle the fillings in your teeth. built into the front and back seats were drawers. The backseat drawer was usually overflowing with clothes, cosmetics, needles, thread, the front had a CD rack packed with CD's dating back to the 80s when they first came out.
The seats themselves had a thick fabric lining and could be adjusted to one's liking with a control panel on the side that controlled how much air was put into or taken out of it. The car was a lowrider but fit her 5' 7", without shoes, athletic frame.
Though her nickname was Jessie James she could not and would not use a gun, but put a bow in her hands and you've got Robin Hood's long lost twin. Crazy as it sounds, the only thing either of them ever shot at was targets and the occasional tire. Or two. Sometimes three. Maybe four. Given the chance, six. Sooooo they shot out a lot of tires, okay? It's like their signature.
Me? I had swords, daggers, knives, and practically anything and everything else attached to a blade. My boots were made custom for me, thanks to JJ, with sheaths built right into the black leather, placed stragetically around the ring at the top, three along one side; three along the other, plus one in back and one in front. Eight knives inside each boot. Inside. As in more on the outside.
Two, side-by-side, at the back of the heel, encased in the rubber sole. One going in at the side under the arch. Four others lining the rounded outer edge. Because of all these and the Spurs, my cowboy boots weighed about five pounds each. Putting me at 131 lb. on the scale. Not bad considering the only exercise I really did was running everywhere since my luck with cars went hand in hand with big booms, roaring flames, melted scrap metal. Needless to say, I'd seen my share of explosions and more.
My last car was a Jeep Cherokee. When it blew the flames blended with the bright orange paint. That was Friday. Today was Monday. A new day, I thought, rushing around the sorry excuse of an island to the fridge. Bending down, I pulled on the handle to the freezer. The sudden and drastic change in temperature took my breath away.
I scanned over the labels until I found the one I wanted, Cookie dough brownie. I yanked the gallon tub up and slid the freezer door closed with ease. A new feeling since my old freezer couldn't be opened more than an inch. Setting the frosted container on the floor by the fridge, I selected a blue plastic cup from its stack near the wannabe counter to the side of the fridge.
In its own accord, my hand inadvertently dropped to the bottom of said box to a plastic container holding all my silverware. I chose a smaller spoon and plopped it into the cup for the time being. I positioned myself so that I was sitting like a dog.
I spooned a good amount of ice cream into the glass, making sure to get as many chunks of cookie dough as I could, and knowing it was against the new diet JJ had made up for me. Snapping the plastic lid back in its place I heard the distinct sound of my cedar wood door opening, banging against the front room wall. JJ waddled in like a duck, her arms full of assorted junk. Paper towels, paints, tape, rollers, paint brushes, buttons, fabric, yarn - and last but not least- Maria Calenders Key Lime Pie.
"Okay girlie girl. Get out. Now. Not tryin' to be rude or anything but I got some serious decorating to do on this so called apartment of yours and I can't have you in my way. Kates on her way over now with lumber and nails and whatever else and we're gonna finish what we started here. So go to the track, the garage, or the museum for all I care. Just go and don't come back for at least four hours. Preferably five. Get it? Got it? Good. Now go." She said in her unique California slang.
Ice cream in hand, I walked past her and took a right towards my bedroom. I quickly flipped the overhead, single bulb light on, flooding the room with florescent yellow. Despite the rest of the layout being under construction my room was done. Neon green dots were scattered along the wall, contrasting from the brown undercoat.
To my left, cut into the wall, facing outwards was a double door closet overflowing with clothes. Beside it, mounted to the wall via nails, was a six-foot mirror I hardly ever looked into. A smooth sky blue summer blanket splayed across the Tempur-Pedic pillow top mattress that laid on the floor.
At the foot of the bed was a spruce storage bench used to reserve mechanic books, hunting magazines, maps, crossword puzzles, Sudoku booklets, cards, dice, paints, board games, markers, colored pencils, sketchbooks, and a dictionary. Despite how old I was, I still didn't act my age. And I never would.
There was a window beside the bed, 3 feet high and 2 feet wide and cut in half, in order to open it one would have to undo the latch and slide the bottom portion upward.
I walked to the back wall and ran my hand along the thin trim board, finding the hidden tin latch almost immediately. I pulled on the latch, the lock clicked open, and the wooden panel swung back without so much as a whisper.
I stepped into the concealed space and scanned the room. Grey cushioned office chair positioned in front of a wall-to-wall stainless steel desk. Two filing cabinets under the desk, one on each side. L-shaped bookcase in the left corner beside a two seater couch and an oval coffee table.
A large array of monitors, computers, laptops, CCTV security footages, keyboards, CD's, VHS tapes, notepads, pencil holders, and a 42'' flat screen TV was on and above the desk, all tilted towards the center so the person sitting could see all the brightly lit screens at once.
I reached down and picked up my freshly washed army green and black nylon backpack. Sitting it on the table top I began to fill it with my handy paraphernalia. 13in Toshiba laptop, sketchpad and pencil, small box of high-tech tracking devices, compact mirror, fishing line, hairbrush, cosmetics case, lightweight jacket, camera, mini tape recorder, neon blue sunglasses, Mentos, 3 packs pink bubblegum, small box of paperclips, thumbtacks, blue Gatorade, coconut trail mix, 6 chocolate chip granola bars, all-purpose pocket knife, small tool case containing 2 wrenches, set of sockets, Philips screwdriver with attachments, and a hex key set, heavy-duty blue latex gloves, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle T-shirt, ankle socks with bright yellow stars, Rangers ball cap, blue iPod nano and earphones, clear water bottle, extra lip gloss, checkbook, pepper spray, phone charger, a bottle of Coca-cola, and Banana Boat sunscreen.
I slung the bag over my shoulder, holding the strap so it wouldn't fall off, and, closing the panel behind me, walked out of the hidden compartment as if nothing were there. I walked over to my closet and opened the doors.
Shuffling through the clothes, I selected a pair of skinny jeans, a blue Built Ford Tough Shirt, and my typical cowboy boots. After closing my closet doors, I stalked out of my bedroom, down the hall a short distance, into the bathroom.
The bathroom