Tuesday Tickle: Drowning Instinct by Ilsa J. Bick

Tuesday Tickle is a meme inspired by Should Be Reading's Teaser Tuesday. Still the same basic idea, but it goes a bit deeper, offering a more in-depth look at characters, settings, or the author's that write these amazing stories.

My TT is plucked from the pages of Drowning Instinct by Ilsa J. Bick.

There are stories where the girl gets her prince, and they live happily ever after. (This is not one of those stories.)

Jenna Lord’s first sixteen years were not exactly a fairytale. Her father is a controlling psycho and her mother is a drunk. She used to count on her older brother—until he shipped off to Afghanistan. And then, of course, there was the time she almost died in a fire. 

There are stories where the monster gets the girl, and we all shed tears for his innocent victim. (This is not one of those stories either.)

Mitch Anderson is many things: A dedicated teacher and coach. A caring husband. A man with a certain... magnetism. 

And there are stories where it’s hard to be sure who’s a prince and who’s a monster, who is a victim and who should live happily ever after. (These are the most interesting stories of all.)

Drowning Instinct is a novel of pain, deception, desperation, and love against the odds—and the rules.

Jenna Lord is the incredibly profound person who releases the pain and disgust she feels inside by mutilating the outside. She cuts. Her family is a wreck. With Psycho Dad and Drunk Mom, not to mention her Protector Brother who's overseas fighting a war, Jenna is pretty much on her own. Until, it seems, she goes to Turing High. 

::a look through jenna's eyes::

Turing High was one of those Psycho-Dad command decisions, same as us moving to a new McMansion ninetey miles north of Milwaukee after my stint in the psych ward. Or was that my breakdown? No, no, it was my "little episode," Psycho-Dad-speak for my stay in the place where nuts feed the squirrels. My father always called it a "little episode," as if my life was a sitcome and we could simply channel surf right past.

The truth is, Bob, that no matter how far or fast you go, the past always follows: an inky, faceless thing tacked to your shoes that only the harshest light can kill, and then just for those few moments when there is nothing byt the strongest fire from the brightest sun, breaking over your shoulders, burning that shadow-and your past-into ash. 

Finally, a red bead oozed and ballooned, and I sighed with relief as my blood bubbled and drew out the poison that was Grandpa. There was this other cutter back on the ward. She etched words and letters. But I didn't. Honestly, Bob: how do you carve a scream?

Silence is not an option, either. Silence is resistance and, as we all know, resistance is futile.

This girl is full of mystery but at the same time she has this way of baring her soul in a way that either makes you laugh hysterically or want to weep. Simply amazing so far, with the writing style and character building ~ I wish time was on my side so I could simply read straight through without stopping.

What's tickling your fancy today?


Happy Reading Everyone :)


~ Keely ~