13 Reasons Why Blog Tour - Day 4: Snippets

If you're even just mildly interested or curious about what's actually inside this book I've been talking about (c'mon, you know you were. I'm such a mind reader.), then today's post is for you! You get a glimpse into my book baby's heart . . . and a piece of my own.

Today's R2L: smiles. I don't know about you, but I love smiles. There's just something about them that brightens up a person's entire face. Smiles . . . they're like their own beacon of hope. It's with one smile that you can disarm an angry person (or fuel their fire...but hey, at least you look good), you can give someone a ray of sunshine (or, in my case, a drop of rain), you can convey that you care. Someone, somewhere, needs your smile. You'll probably never know when/if your smile ever makes a difference in someone's life, but don't stop. Jesus gives you something to smile about; share it with others.

So, the snippets . . . I picked the best ones I could fine, but, y'know, read at your own risk.

Ignoring the bench’s weathered boards and easing into a sitting position, I dangle my feet over the edge. The water’s playful splashing tickles my toes that don’t quite touch the water. I close my eyes in the warmth of the sunshine, take a deep breath, then let it out slowly, ignoring the water that runs down my back and pools beneath me. The hollowness remains, deeper than before—if that’s even possible. I stare at the water once more, urging myself to simply slide off. The water is bound to be deeper than my short frame. I slowly stand, my gaze fixed on the waves. I back up one step, then two . . . three, four, five. Come on, Cara; it’s now or never. 

I bite my lip, then begin to whisper. “One, two, three.”

Without taking the time to think or talk myself out of it, I step forward, faster and faster, running at the water. I gather speed and close my eyes. 

Suddenly my foot hits the puddle of water where I had previously sat and slips out from under me with a startling jerk. My mind barely has time to register what happened before my head slams against something hard—probably the pier—and everything goes dark.

Death, here I come. Are you ready for me?

The annoying berp, berp, berp of my alarm clock breaks into my senses and causes me to raise my sleep-streaked eyes to read the time. What the—who in the world set my alarm for eight o’clock on a Sunday?

With a half-wail, half-groan of frustration, I ignore the alarm and stuff my pillow over my ears. Erich. One of these days, the guy will get what’s coming to him, but today I just want to sleep in. I flop an arm in the direction of the alarm, feeling for a snooze button, and manage to knock the device to the floor. Its continued noise taunts me.

Whatever. I can sleep with noise. 

A gentle tap, tap, tap reverberates through the otherwise-silent room, then the door’s hinges squeak open, grating on my morning-sensitive ears.

“We’re going to church today, remember?”

I don’t want to know how early he got up to get ready in order to come make sure I’m awake.

After a very long sigh, during which I grip the sheet in my fists and open my mouth in a silent scream, I roll to my back and meet his eyes with a withering gaze. “Shut up.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Sassy, are we?” He steps across the room, retrieves the alarm clock from the floor, and places it on the bed next to my ear.
“Leave me alone.” Quite a feat to make my voice louder than the blaring in my ears this early in the morning.

“I’m sorry; I can’t hear you. What was that?” He smirks, revealing half a row of perfectly straight teeth. “I’ll be back to get you when you’re ready.”

I roll my bleary eyes and remain defiantly motionless, eyes shut tightly, until the door clicks shut, after which I rapidly switch the off button on the alarm clock and place it back on the nightstand. Now back to burrowing under the top covers, hoping Erich doesn’t make good on his promise.

If he wants to be stubborn, I can be stubborn too.

What feels like ten seconds later, the door opens again. I freeze, concentrating on even breathing. The floor creaks as my mind’s eye imagines him creeping closer, closer, peering at my face to see if I’m—

I scream.

The visions vanish as reality—cold, freezing reality—breaks into my senses. I scramble out of bed, nearly falling face-first to the floor in my haste to crawl out of my ice-filled sheets.

“Ready to go?” Erich’s annoyingly amused voice greets my ear.

I bounce to my feet, glaring for all I’m worth. “I swear, Erich, I’ll—”

“Kill me? Yeah, I’ve gotten that reaction a time or two before.” Erich waves my empty, unfinished threat away with a flick of his hand. “I knew I’d never get you to church otherwise.”

I stare at him. No, buddy, I don’t want to forgive you. Forgiving you means accepting your apology, and Cara Richards accepts nothing she can’t literally see and touch.

Oh please, Cara, not another pity party. Won’t you just accept the stinkin’ apology and get on with life for once?

Quiet, Mar—

No, I won’t be quiet. I’m tired of being shoved to the back of your mind. Now, just forgive him and see what he has to say, will you? Trust him, Cara.

I mentally dig in my heels. I can’t. I’ll never be able to trust a person again.

But weren’t you happy at least while the trust lasted?

The pain of rejection outweighs the happiness.

The cost is too great not to trust. You have to let someone in sometime, Cara. Do it before it’s too late, before you’re completely numb.

Numbness is far better than the wounds.

Is it, Cara? Even wounds heal. Paralyzation doesn’t.

There’s nothing like the feeling of complete control when you’re above water. It’s like having the entire world under your thumb—

Until you stare into the black depths and realize that, in an instant, your power could be swept away from you like sand in high tide. 

Life is fragile. 

So why are you wasting yours, Cara?

My life was wasted a long time ago. I’m beyond saving now. Let’s get this over with.

Breathe in, breathe out. A nervous sliver pricks my stomach as I remember the panic mode that changed my mind last time I tried this—and the sickening crunch as my head hit the pier. I remember the pounding in my skull as I woke up on the sand. But this time, I’ll know what I’m doing, and I’m not going to slip. I’ll actually understand what dying feels like.

Mr. C. claps his hands together. “Chop chop, everyone!” He turns to the adjacent living room. “I’ll be over watching TV in case you need an expert to show you how it’s done.”

“How what’s done? Watching TV?” Eddie snorts.

“Hey.” Mr. C. boxes Eddie lightly on the ear. “Respect your elders, mister.” Chuckling, he exits the room.

A few seconds later, my ears detect the sound of the footrest going up on the recliner—the sound that doubles as the human’s power button, Daddy liked to say. Mr. C. will probably be asleep within ten minutes. Or less.

“Well, let’s get to work,” I remark, grabbing Eddie’s arm and dragging him to the kitchen.

“Hang on.” He yanks free of my grasp, then plods to the bottom of the stairs, setting a hand on the banister. “Erich Elmer Carlos!” he shouts. “Get your sorry carcass down here and help!” . . . A door upstairs opens, and Erich’s face pokes over the banister. “What d’you want, Eddie?”

“Mom took Fergus to the ER.”

“Oh my word, what?” Erich moves to the top of the stairs and begins to descend. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“He cut himself on a broken plate,” I speak up. “We think he’s fine, but—”

“You know how Mom gets with blood,” Eddie finishes.

Erich nods. “Enough said.” He glances at the living room. “I see the vacuuming didn’t get done?”

“Wow, you’ve got good eyes. What clued you in, the vacuum or the floor?” Eddie’s teasing causes my eyebrows to rise, since I’ve never seen him in a mood quite like this.

Erich shakes his head. “He gets in a phase like this sometimes,” he says to me. “Sometimes I wonder if there’s two people inside that tiny body.”

“Tiny body!” Eddie exclaims, flexing his muscles. “Do you have any idea how long I lifted weights to get this ripped?”

“Obviously not long enough.”

Visit Faith's blog for snippets from Freedom!

Life without love is hopeless. 

Foster teen Cara Richards is unloved. With nothing left and nowhere to go, she is determined to find peace, no matter the cost. But despite her intentions, she’s tossed into another foster family and this time, there’s no going back to who she used to be. To make matters worse, one of her five new foster brothers is a Jesus freak, and she refuses to believe that God actually cares.

Her world is thrown upside down in a way she never expects. Though she prides herself on a resilient heart, her mind is lost adrift among a sea of questions: Is death really the answer? Does God care about someone as unworthy as me? Can everyone truly be loved, no matter what?

Goodreads | Amazon | Paperback preorder

Having just returned to American soil from the desert sands of the Middle East, James Greene is done with his life. 'Double amputee' doesn't seem like a strong enough phrase to label the physical and emotional pain he bears. Add the lack of love and communication with his family members, the demons that haunt him day and night, and he can find nothing worth living for. Ending it all is the only way out. 

Alexandria Lorance is a not-so-ordinary physical therapist, content with aiding in her patients' recoveries. Her work gives her fulfillment, but alone in the silence, she still endures the hidden scars of a past, unhealthy relationship. Reminding herself that true healing is found in Christ alone, she seeks to show kindness and love to everyone she meets.


When these two broken ones' paths intersect, the spark of friendship is ignited, bringing hope and joy to both. Can they step out of the darkness of suffering and into the freedom of grace? 


A Marine, broken by war. A therapist, scarred by words. A chance meeting in a parking lot bonded them together. But can love grow in these two hurting hearts? Or are they truly too broken to ever find lasting happiness?

Goodreads | Amazon | Paperback preorder

Blog tour stops
Review of Freedom @ Books, Life and Christ 

Review of Freedom + Beloved @ Tangled up in Writing

Review of Freedom + Beloved @ Read Write Breathe

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Keep smiling, y'all. And choose life.