Read Online The Hibernia Strain by Albert Peterson - Free Book Online
Authors: Albert Peterson
Ads: Link
beautiful Emma rippling through my psyche.
Please let me keep my promise.
SHAWN
7
Twenty seven minutes! It’s been twenty-seven minutes since either of us said a word. It’s half an hour since we drove off and left Matt behind in that shithole of an apartment.
She ’s sitting next to me in the passenger seat with a vacant expression on her face. I’m staring out the windscreen of my new wheels at the road with a puzzled look on my face. I’m still trying to make sense of the piss poor excuse for an explanation she gave me as to why we had to leave Matt behind.
Matt, who is the closest thing I have to a brother, made it plenty clear that it was vital we part ways for a while and that Emma would explain everything. I know Matt well enough to listen when he has his serious face on.
Unfortunately, once we pulled off and Matt was out of sight, all I got from her was a minute or two of sobbing, before she spit out a muddled hysteric account involving somebody named Jason and nutmeg flavoured vomit.
Matt ’s got a level head, but when it comes to women he’s made some dodgy choices. Although he’s never really talked much about it, I know he’s gotten messed around pretty bad a few times.
It occurs to me that she may be shaken up and upset, and that possibly some restraint and compassion may be in order on my behalf. BUT NO! The situation is too serious , and besides, that’s never been my style anyway.
I mean , who is this person sitting beside me? Did she flutter her eyelids at Matt just so she’d have a convenient knight in shining armour to escort her through this mess that’s going on? Who is this Jason character she mentioned? Some ex boyfriend from what I could gather from her rambling.
I turn my head and give her the eyeball in an attempt to provoke a reaction of some kind, conscious of the fact that she may still be a bit bent out of shape from our little exchange earlier. I get nothing, not a flinch!
I turn my head and face forward again. The roads are empty except for the odd car I see speeding by on other roads in the distance, and the increasing number of cars I’m encountering, apparently abandoned on the side of the road.
Frustrated by the lack of response from Emma regarding when, where or even if we’ll see Matt again, I turn back to her and without thinking I say in a crude tone, “So who the hell are you again?”
I regret my lack of finesse almost immediately. The aggressive manor of my question doesn’t go unnoticed by Emma either, as it seems to have opened the flood gates on something that had been brewing since the journey began.
She springs to life with a barrage of indecipherable ranting and abuse, from which all I can make out, is along the lines of, “How the hell did I let myself get caught in this situation with a juvenile psycho like you,” which I think is a reference to our earlier argument.
I hear Matt ’s name interspersed in the verbal avalanche, but I can’t tell in what context. I’m no stranger to provoking this kind response in women, but given recent events, and the fact that it’s been ages since I’ve slept, my ability to tune it out is failing me.
I find myself wondering if Matt ’s sudden need to be alone wasn’t an elaborate ruse to unload this toxic chick on me. I dismiss the thought as unlikely... but possible.
In an attempt to break her rant I shout back at her, “If you’re so interested in Matt; why did you leave him back there?”
She pauses f or a moment as her eyes tear up. I can’t tell if this is a result of sorrow or rage.
In a more focused and accusing voice she looks at me and says , “Well YOU didn’t hang around too long after he asked you to leave either.”
I dig my fingernails into the steering wheel in an attempt to restrain myself. In my sleep deprived state I can ’t take this shite anymore.
I take a sharp turn off the road into an empty supermarket car park and bring the car to an abrupt stop in the first
Please let me keep my promise.
SHAWN
7
Twenty seven minutes! It’s been twenty-seven minutes since either of us said a word. It’s half an hour since we drove off and left Matt behind in that shithole of an apartment.
She ’s sitting next to me in the passenger seat with a vacant expression on her face. I’m staring out the windscreen of my new wheels at the road with a puzzled look on my face. I’m still trying to make sense of the piss poor excuse for an explanation she gave me as to why we had to leave Matt behind.
Matt, who is the closest thing I have to a brother, made it plenty clear that it was vital we part ways for a while and that Emma would explain everything. I know Matt well enough to listen when he has his serious face on.
Unfortunately, once we pulled off and Matt was out of sight, all I got from her was a minute or two of sobbing, before she spit out a muddled hysteric account involving somebody named Jason and nutmeg flavoured vomit.
Matt ’s got a level head, but when it comes to women he’s made some dodgy choices. Although he’s never really talked much about it, I know he’s gotten messed around pretty bad a few times.
It occurs to me that she may be shaken up and upset, and that possibly some restraint and compassion may be in order on my behalf. BUT NO! The situation is too serious , and besides, that’s never been my style anyway.
I mean , who is this person sitting beside me? Did she flutter her eyelids at Matt just so she’d have a convenient knight in shining armour to escort her through this mess that’s going on? Who is this Jason character she mentioned? Some ex boyfriend from what I could gather from her rambling.
I turn my head and give her the eyeball in an attempt to provoke a reaction of some kind, conscious of the fact that she may still be a bit bent out of shape from our little exchange earlier. I get nothing, not a flinch!
I turn my head and face forward again. The roads are empty except for the odd car I see speeding by on other roads in the distance, and the increasing number of cars I’m encountering, apparently abandoned on the side of the road.
Frustrated by the lack of response from Emma regarding when, where or even if we’ll see Matt again, I turn back to her and without thinking I say in a crude tone, “So who the hell are you again?”
I regret my lack of finesse almost immediately. The aggressive manor of my question doesn’t go unnoticed by Emma either, as it seems to have opened the flood gates on something that had been brewing since the journey began.
She springs to life with a barrage of indecipherable ranting and abuse, from which all I can make out, is along the lines of, “How the hell did I let myself get caught in this situation with a juvenile psycho like you,” which I think is a reference to our earlier argument.
I hear Matt ’s name interspersed in the verbal avalanche, but I can’t tell in what context. I’m no stranger to provoking this kind response in women, but given recent events, and the fact that it’s been ages since I’ve slept, my ability to tune it out is failing me.
I find myself wondering if Matt ’s sudden need to be alone wasn’t an elaborate ruse to unload this toxic chick on me. I dismiss the thought as unlikely... but possible.
In an attempt to break her rant I shout back at her, “If you’re so interested in Matt; why did you leave him back there?”
She pauses f or a moment as her eyes tear up. I can’t tell if this is a result of sorrow or rage.
In a more focused and accusing voice she looks at me and says , “Well YOU didn’t hang around too long after he asked you to leave either.”
I dig my fingernails into the steering wheel in an attempt to restrain myself. In my sleep deprived state I can ’t take this shite anymore.
I take a sharp turn off the road into an empty supermarket car park and bring the car to an abrupt stop in the first
Similar Books
