The Dilemma by B. A. Paris EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: B. A. Paris
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
Livia
It’s the cooling bathwater that wakes me. Disorientated, I sit up quickly,
sploshing suds up the sides, wondering how long I’ve been asleep. I release
the plug and the drain gurgles, a too-loud sound in a silent house.
A shiver pricks my skin as I towel myself dry. A memory tugs at my
brain. It was a sound that woke me, the roar of a motorbike in the street
outside. I pause, the towel stretched over my back. It couldn’t have been
Adam, could it? He wouldn’t have gone off on his bike, not at this time of
night.
Wrapping the towel around me, I hurry to the bedroom and look out of
the window. The guilty beating of my heart slows when I see, behind the
marquee, a yellow glow coming from his shed. He’s there, he hasn’t gone to
settle scores. Part of me wants to go down and check he’s alright but
something, a sixth sense perhaps, tells me not to, that he’ll come to me when
he’s ready. For a moment I feel afraid, as if I’m staring into an abyss. But it’s
just the dark and the deserted garden that’s making me feel that way.
Turning from the window, I lie down on the bed. I’ll give him another ten
minutes and if he’s not back by then, I’ll go and find him.
Adam
I race along deserted streets, scattering a scavenging cat, cutting a corner too
tight, shattering the night’s deathly silence with the roar of my bike. Ahead of
me, the slip road to the M4 looms. I open the throttle and take it fast,
screaming onto the motorway, slicing in front of a crawling car. My bike
shifts under me as I push faster.
The drag of the wind on my face is intoxicating and I have to fight an
overwhelming urge to let go of the handlebars and freefall to my death. Is it
terrible that Livia and Josh aren’t enough to make me want to live? Guilt
adds itself to the torment of the last fourteen hours and a roar of white-hot
anger adds to the noise of the bike as I race down the motorway, bent on
destruction.
Then, in the mirror, through the water streaming from my eyes, I see a car
hammering down the motorway behind me, its blue light flashing, and my
roar of grief becomes one of frustration. I take the bike to one hundred mph,
knowing that if it comes to it I can push it faster, because nothing is going to
stop me now. But the police car quickly closes the distance between us,
moving swiftly into the outside lane and, as it levels with me, my peripheral
vision catches an officer gesticulating wildly from the passenger seat.
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