The Girls on Chalk Hill by Alison Belsham EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Alison Belsham
- Language: English
- Genre: Serial Killer Thrillers
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
MONDAY, 9 JANUARY
She ran as if her life depended on it, until she couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t
go any faster. Her heart was bursting, muscles stretched to breaking point,
but she was determined not to slow down despite the fatigue that weighed
against every stride. Creeping undergrowth crowded the path and bare
branches formed a dense canopy overhead. Brambles scratched her naked
arms and legs, their spiny thorns ripping her skin, drawing blood. The
narrow track was uneven and stony, criss-crossed by tree roots – it would be
easy to stumble, easy to fall. Although she could see the emerging dawn
diluting the dark sky between the tree trunks ahead, there was no light down
here. She was running blind.
The woman sprinted uphill, adding to the pressure in her lungs and legs.
Her breath was a harsh rasp deep in her throat. Or was that the sound of
someone else coming up behind her? There was frost on the ground and her
trainers crunched and skidded. Was it just her own footfalls she could hear,
or was somebody following her? She glanced over her shoulder. There was
no one there. Just the silent forest. Still as death, quiet as the grave.
But she had to keep up the pace. She couldn’t stop. She was compelled
to keep going, driving through the pain barrier, running through the fire.
The track took a sharp turn to the right. The slope became steeper and
the path narrower. As her pace slowed, she felt a surge of anger. She had to
push herself harder. She had to be stronger than this. Each breath ripped her
lungs from her chest. Every fibre of every muscle was burning.
One. Foot. In. Front. Of. The. Other.
She was almost there, almost there, almost at the top…
Light-headed, vision blurred, she burst out of the treeline at the brow of
the hill. After vaulting the stile that divided the woods from the pasture, she
collapsed onto the ground, feeling the prickle of the frosty grass through the
thin fabric of her running kit. The sky above her was the colour of wet slate,
but over the crest of the hill, beyond where she lay in the shadows, the
horizon was now washed pale lilac.
Her chest rose and fell to replace depleted oxygen, frantic for the first
few seconds as the cold air ripped down her throat. Her stomach cramped
and her leg muscles tightened. It would be a few minutes before she’d be
able to get back on her feet. A minute passed, then she tapped the Fitbit on
her wrist to check her stats. Not a personal best, but certainly not too
shoddy for a frosty January morning before sunrise. She watched the digits
change as her heart rate gradually returned to normal.
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