"Don't scream or it will be your last," warned a low-pitched voice. Marlena Evans jerked awake; she could feel the ice coldness of the knife on her neck. Sheer panic jolted her to full alert. "I'm not going to scream," she said dry mouthed. In the line of her work she had dealt with unexpected, …
What I had with John was a thunderstorm. It was full of lightening and wind and drama and passion.
The Jarlena Journal 