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Back No Going Back: a Novel Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Part 1
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. Part 2
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. Part 3
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. Part 4
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. Part 5
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. Part 6
  67. 59
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. 69
  78. 70
  79. 71
  80. 72
  81. Acknowledgments
  82. About the Author
  83. Also by Sheena Kamal
  84. About the Publisher

There’s traffic approaching Squamish. On the radio they say the road closure has just been lifted about an hour ago. In the dead of the night, when police were apprehending a suspect at a biker bar, a minivan crossed the center line and collided with an SUV. Two people were killed and two airlifted to a hospital in the Lower Mainland. No names are being released at this time, authorities say.

So it’s not really my fault that I’m driving faster than I should, on a road so dangerous that two people were killed on it just hours ago. It occurs to me if I drive a little faster, I could solve the problem of my existence once and for all. I’m so tired, so strung out on adrenaline, that a swerve into a railway doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Bam. It would be over. But not until I make sure Bonnie is alright.

This drive, this treacherous road, it all seems to be leading to something inevitable. I just don’t know what it is.

63

I feel old. It’s entirely possible that I am old, but I keep hearing things like thirty is the new twenty, forty is the new thirty, and if you’re not dead by fifty then maybe you should be. There have certainly been enough attempts on my life for me to consider my own mortality. I’m like a cat, though. A worn-out, mangy thing that is dragged through life kicking and hollering up a storm while she sharpens her nails.

I’m feeling mean like a cat, too, now that things are becoming clearer.

The aggressive holiday cheer does its best to distract me. As does the weather, which is holding steady below zero degrees Celsius. We’re experiencing February-like temperatures and it’s not even Christmas. People think because there’s snow on the ground now, that there will be snow on December 25. Maybe it will happen. I’m not the person to ask. I’m not sure I’ll live that long, but I’ll do my best, if only for spite and vengeance.

I’ve had it with this tired old film. It needs to be over. But there was someone watching Bonnie. Someone who figured she’s important to me, this daughter I’d given away.

This child I never wanted to be born.

How important, I never truly realized until I find the back door of Adele’s family cabin unlocked. I enter as quietly as possible.

It’s too cold inside, even though the thermostat in the kitchen tells me the heat is on. A draft snakes its way through the house. The source, an open bedroom window. Bonnie’s window.

The alarm has been disabled.