The Contract (Nightlong #1) by Sarah Michelle Lynch Read Free Book Online

It’s how I survive and coming here to be with you, it’s the only thing I look forward to.”
    “Such a crock. What about Little Miss Girlfriend?”
    “Ciara, that’s not comparable–”
    “Go, just get out!” I screamed, still standing with my back to him.
    He huffed and puffed before reluctantly leaving my bedroom. I didn’t let myself breathe until I heard the front door slam shut downstairs.
     
    ***
     
    I caught up on some proper sleep that afternoon and when I woke in the evening, it was like a fog had cleared and I knew exactly what to do. He’d driven me to this and it was on his head; I had been pushed into reckless action yet again because he was a bastard, end of.
    I calmly walked downstairs in my towelling robe, heading for the kitchen island where the scalpel and the gauze and surgical solution still were, hidden inside the drawer where I’d left them yesterday. So he hadn’t found them, or maybe he had, but he’d decided to leave them there.
    I had to get out of this city and go someplace else, somewhere different where I couldn’t get hurt again. He was destined to hurt me, like I was destined to love only him. It was better it all ended now.
    I drank a healthy load of vodka and with my vision blurry and my senses dulled, I looked down at the arm housing my tracker and felt around for where it lay inside me. It was half a centimetre deep and I took a deep breath, pressing the tip of the knife to my skin.
    “FUCK!” It hurt like hell but with my free hand, I dug the skin upwards, hoping to aid the knife in popping out the tiny little chip inside my body.
    I began shaking all over and drank more vodka, but it wasn’t helping. I really needed anaesthetic. The cut felt like I was digging into my soul, hitting nerves in such a way I knew I was going to pass out if I didn’t achieve this – and soon.
    I made a severe cut and the pain was so bad, I couldn’t even feel it. Blood everywhere, I laboured immensely to dig out the alien item and soon, it was rolling off my cut-open skin and to the floor.
    I ran to the sink with the cleaning solution in my free hand and poured it all over myself. Aware I was panting and losing focus, I had to overcome the shock and steady my breathing to do the next part.
    I put a wooden lollipop stick between my teeth and over the sink, I threaded a needle through my skin to stitch up the wound, which was only as wide as it was deep but stung like a bitch. Every stitch fucked with my ability to maintain control and not scream the house down.
    I cleaned around the wound and rubbed in some ointment before covering the stitches with a large gauze plaster.
    With no time to spare, I yanked open a cupboard door and took some strong painkillers, washing them down with more vodka.
    I ran upstairs and began packing a few things into a small bag, just enough to keep me going. I couldn’t use my Cleo Patrick passport because that would give me away. He’d track it. Emptying the safe of some spare cash I had, I left the passport there, my original one having been confiscated six years ago.
    I pulled on some running shoes, jeans, a t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt, an old woollen coat and a scarf around my neck for added camouflage. It was early spring and I didn’t know if I would be sleeping rough in the cold tonight. I’d done it before and knew I could do it again if I had to.
    Standing in front of the full-length mirror as I prepared to leave, I saw a ghastly reflection. Tears had swollen my eyes and pain had made my cheeks puffy. Mascara smeared all around my face, I couldn’t believe I was finally doing this.
    Grabbing a wet wipe, I quickly cleaned my face and checking I had my driving licence, I ran from the room with my bag under my arm.
    I unlocked the back door and ran for it, not even bothering to lock up, chasing down the long garden to head for freedom.
    I’d have to go back to Ireland but it was a price I was willing to pay to get away from that man . In Ireland I