Someone To Kiss My Scars: A Teen Thriller
by Brooke Skipstone
Publication Date: October 17th 2019
Genres: Thriller, Young Adult
Hunter needs to remember. Jazz needs to forget. They need each other to heal in this teen thriller of survivor love.
Hunter’s past is a mystery to him, erased by a doctor at the direction of his father. But memories of the secret trauma begin to surface when Hunter sees other people’s memories–visions invading his mind with stories of abuse, teen self-mutilation, rape, and forbidden sex.
His best friend Jazz has dark and disturbing memories of her own that she hides behind her sass and wit. Hunter discovers he can rescue the victims, even though he risks adding their suffering to his own.
Hunter and Jazz kiss each other’s scars and form a bond of empathy no two teens should ever need.
First Place Pencraft Award in Young Adult Abuse
Readers’ Favorite International Contest: Silver Medal in Young Adult Thriller
“Powerful. Original. Deeply felt and convincing.” — Kirkus Reviews
Hunter’s fingers typed furiously across his keyboard as his vision of two teenage boys having sex in a store dressing room invaded his mind, compelling him to watch.
After they’d finished, Parker stood up in a panic, trying to find his clothes among the tangled pile on the floor. “I have to go,” he gasped. “I need to leave.”
The other boy smiled as he sat naked on the bench. “It’s OK, Parker.” He stood up and found the two pairs of pants Parker had brought in with him crumpled on the bench. “You want to take these?”
“No.” Parker frantically pulled up his underwear and shoved his feet into his pants. His heart raced as he desperately tried to breathe.
The boy held his shirt out for him. “Here. Stick your arm in.”
Parker looked at the smiling boy, his eyes lingering on the boy’s lips before forcing himself to look at the shirt being held out in front of him. The boy helped Parker fasten the buttons, but when his fingers wandered around the shirt below his waist, Parker broke away and sat on the bench to put on his socks and shoes. He tried to avert his gaze as the boy slipped on his underwear and pants. His cheeks felt on fire, and he blinked his eyes to keep tears from trickling down them. He looked at the floor and shook his head, but despite his guilt and shame he couldn’t stop thinking about the orgasm he’d just had a few minutes ago. He was sure someone had heard his whimpers and groans. How couldn’t they?
Parker stood, checked himself in the mirror, and started toward the door. The boy moved in front of him.
“Hey, that was fun. Thanks.”
Parker’s chest heaved as tears moistened his eyes. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Just between you and me.” He straightened Parker’s collar. “Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime.”
Parker bolted from the room then tried to walk slowly and calmly out of the store while he was sure everyone watched him leave.
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Brooke Skipstone lives in Alaska, where she watches the mountains change colors with the seasons from her balcony. Where she feels the constant rush toward winter as the sunlight wanes for six months of the year, seven minutes each day, bringing crushing cold that lingers even as the sun climbs again. Where the burst of life during summer is urgent under twenty-four-hour daylight, lush and decadent. Where fish swim hundreds of miles up rivers past bear claws and nets and wheels and lines of rubber-clad combat fishers, arriving humped and ragged, dying as they spawn. Where danger from the land and its animals exhilarates the senses, forcing her to appreciate the difference between life and death. Where the edge between is sometimes too alluring.