Dirty Bad Wrong by Jade West EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Author:Jade West
- Language: English
- Genre: Erotica
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Lydia
Six Months earlier.
Sicked up onto the pavement of single and homeless at twenty-three years
old. I knew I must be hurting, even though I couldn’t feel a thing. Shock, I
guess. Shell shock.
My toes tapped against the suitcase wedged under my desk. It wouldn’t
quite fit in the footwell, sticking out like a big red beacon for the entire
office to see on arrival. LYDIA MARSH IS SINGLE, it screamed, HER
LIFE JUST GOT FUCKED. I died a little at the thought. I’ve no time for
tea and sympathy; the nosey intrusion of strangers in the guise of
friendship. Slaverings of pity laid on thick, pitted eyebrows and there
theres. No thank you.
I breathed in the empty room; soaking up the empty desks in the eerie prework silence. It was still dark outside, London only just stirring as the faint
kiss of dawn teased the skyline.
Single. Homeless. Screwed.
My mobile buzzed in my pocket, but this time I didn’t even reach for it. I’d
no need of his bullshit messages, I already knew what they’d say.
Come home, Lyds, please come home. Please don’t leave me.
A twinge of sadness pinched my insides. Home. The home we’d shared, the
home in which we’d laughed and fucked and made plans together. The
home I’d called ours. But it wasn’t ours, not really. When push came to
shove it was all Stuart’s. His name on the mortgage, his furniture in every
room, his goddamn history there before mine. It hadn’t seemed a big deal.
Why should it? I figured we were in for the long haul, for 2.5 kids and a
joint bank account.
I thought Stu would always be there. But no.
One drunken night at a sales conference had put paid to that. I’d been home
sleeping while he’d been out fucking. Carly Winters, admin junior. Bottle
blonde, with a slightly orange hue and too much mascara. The absolute
opposite of me. She looked Barbie-doll fake, plastic and insincere, but I
guess he didn’t think so.
I’d never have known, not if he hadn’t been too drunk to put a rubber on it.
Oh my God, Lyds, she’s pregnant! She’s fucking pregnant!
I should’ve lost my temper, lashed out and kneed him where it hurts, but
anger was a no -show. I listened to the whole sorry string of apologies
without so much as a whimper, no hint of breakdown. No all-consuming
rage. Nothing.
Don’t do this, Lydia, don’t block me out! Get angry! Scream, Lyddie, please!
Hit me! Anything!
I’d gone to bed. Shut him out and waited for tears to find me. Tears never
came, just the itches. Spidery itches, dancing under my scars and begging
for the razor blade. It had been years since the calling found me, years since
I’d taken a blade to my own skin.
Not again.
Not anymore.
In the early hours, sick of the insomnia, I’d packed a single lowly suitcase
while he followed me around, begging and pleading and grovelling for
forgiveness. It wasn’t a case of forgiveness. Forgiveness I could manage,
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