The Truth About Julia: A Chillingly Timely Psychological Novel - Plot & Excerpts
Each night, I snap awake countless times and, sitting up, contemplate the darkness of my cell, too agitated to read or write. I can’t see the night sky; my shoebox-sized window exposes a view only of the depressing facade of the adjacent building. And when I do sleep, my dreams are so disturbing that I am grateful for waking up again. I keep seeing Julia. In my dreams, I drown in her eyes, which are the colour of ponds, the grey-green surfaces of her irises surrounded by a dark-blue outer ring and scattered with tiny splashes of amber and gold, like flecks of sunlight. Sometimes she stands with her arms folded and her head up high, looking down on me, a cruel smile playing on her lips, and sometimes she beckons me to follow her, and I do, in spite of myself, driven by forces over which I have no control. I also see his wide-open eyes, and how they cycle through disbelief, terror and abhorrence, and then, just before they close, succumb to a leaden weariness. And of course I see the little girl.
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