So this is from my novel Out of the Shadows

Prologue:

Swings. That’s what I think of when comparing life to a common object. When you aren’t tall enough to put your feet on the ground, there’s always someone there behind to push you back up. Then, when you’ve grown tired of their slow pace, you scream until they give you a harder push and you get that wonderful flying feeling that lasts but a few moments, but seems to go on forever. You see the world in that split second, as you can never experience on solid ground, and then, you get that throat-in-stomach feeling which tells you that it’s all about to end. The smile is still plastered on your face, for you know that that one special person is still there to start the ride all over again.

But what happens when you grow older, bigger, and stronger? When your feet can be firmly planted on the ground, and yet you aren’t ready to go up without help? You are left alone to pump your way to the top, and must fight to stay there, and the feeling of flying doesn’t come around nearly as often until you’re so tired that you fear it may never come again. Your resolve weakens, your smile fades, and you are left to face the reality that you cannot continue on like this.

When we were younger, swinging was Marshal’s and mine favorite activity. When we were babies, it was our parents pushing us, then Aunt Jaycee took their place, and eventually we began pushing each other, forever dependent, until six months ago, when I was left alone in this cruel, lonely world because of our own bad choices. There was no one else left to keep me strong.

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