Durability (The LockDown Series Book 3) by Shannon Dobson Read Free Book Online Page B

annoyed your husband a little.” I lay back on the bed sighing. I have recollections of the things I said to him, the disregard I had towards my daughter’s safety. But it is all lies, all false words created by the lack of oxygen my body was receiving.
    “I need to see him,” I say sadly, hoping he hadn’t been too angry with me.
    “We’ve tried to call him but we aren’t getting an answer. I’m sure he’ll come here soon sweetheart, you just focus on getting yourself better okay?” he tells me as he helps me to sit up to drink some water.
    “Why would I have said those horrible things to him?” I ask the doctor. I know roughly why, Angel had explained it simply to me.
    “You had a bad internal bleed Abigail and it meant that your brain was losing oxygen and making you a little delirious. You weren’t able to control rational thinking therefore, not seeing the things he was. Once he comes back and we explain it to him, I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” He smiles kindly at me.
    “Yeah, I’m sure he will.” I relax into the bed and stare to the ceiling. I know I am going to be bored as hell now until he comes back to me.

    I lay in my bed for the rest of the day, the lightness from outside the windows changing to a dark blue that brings along a chill and darkness I haven’t felt for a long time. Not since having Leighton in my life.
    “No, please no,” I say to myself as I bring my legs up and beg for those images and dreams not to return. I can’t bear to live if they infest themselves within my head like they once had. I barely made it through last time; I don’t think my emotional sanity can take on more images.
    I read the clock on the side of my bed, 23:52. It is nearly midnight and Leighton hasn’t returned. I have no idea where he is, where my daughter is, if she is even safe. I wish I knew what was going on so I can at least sleep contently.
    I close my eyes after convincing myself sleep is the best thing to do right now. It is true when they say the only time you heal is when you allow yourself to shut down for a few hours so your systems can do their job and repair the damage.
    My body is pumped with drugs, every drip of morphine rushing my system makes it easier for my body to shut down.
    I close my eyes and succumb to the desperate need to recuperate. Regardless of the many hours my body has been sedated, it hasn’t helped with the exhaustion my body is suffering. The physical pain is bad, but in some ways it is far more bearable than the darkness I can feel surrounding every tiny crevice of my hospital room.

    Please not again.
    I open the front door, fiddling desperately with my key to get inside. School has been hard, stressful but somewhat a reprieve from the torment I know I am about to face. I can smell him, everything that reminds me of the animal I reside with. The cannabis, the alcohol and pure stench of his body as he neglects everything about himself. It lingers, distastefully in the hallways of my home. No, correct that, this was a house, just a simple mix of bricks and cement, just about held together.
    “Abigail!” I hear my father shout from the lounge. My breathing is already accelerating, my heart rate spiking fiercely as I walk through the door frame, cracked and peeling away from the plastered walls. “I’m hungry. Make me some food,” he demands of me, looking up from his knelt position by his favourite glass table.
    I look down in disgust, but masking it perfectly. Four rows of white powder line the dirty glass, my father’s face pressed firmly to them as he snorts through a thoroughly used tube of paper.
    I am nine years old and I know I am not like the other children at school. My clothes have holes and marks on them, they hang loosely around my body as every day I lose more weight. Bruises and red blisters scar my skin where my class friends have temporary tattoos, pressed with water by their loving parents. I know I will never experience the feeling of posing