BooksBarbecue
Back The Dare
Chapters (68)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for
  3. PART ONE
  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. 15
  19. 16
  20. NETWORK RAIL SAFETY UPGRADES TOO LATE FOR “OUR ALICE”
  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. 33
  38. 34
  39. PART TWO
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. PART THREE
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. THREE MONTHS LATER
  64. Dedication
  65. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  66. BY LESLEY KARA
  67. About the Author
  68. What’s next onyour reading list?

I hold my breath, bracing myself for his reaction, but he carries on chatting as if nothing is wrong. My mind whirls as I climb under the duvet. Even if he did look in the rucksack, he’d have only seen a few bits and pieces. Some items of clothing. He might have thought I was getting it ready for a yoga class or something. He obviously didn’t look in the compartments or he’d have emptied them, too, put everything back in its right place. And even if he did, even if he knew for sure that I was trying to leave, he’ll be assuming my post-seizure brain has forgotten all about it.

There’s a menace about him now. An indefinable quality that must have been there all along, only I never noticed it before. I never saw it because I was blind to his flaws. Blind and stupid. A gullible little fool. If only I hadn’t been so out of it in hospital, I could have alerted someone. Told them I didn’t feel safe. They’d have helped me. Now, with no way of contacting Mum and Dad until they’re back from New York, I’m on my own.

48

Ross hands me a mug of tea, but I can barely hold it. I’m always weak and shaky after a seizure, and tired. So terribly, bone-achingly tired. Too tired to think straight, but I must. I’ve got to force myself to stay awake.

He takes the mug out of my hands and pours some into the empty glass that’s still sitting on my bedside table from two nights ago.

“Here,” he says, putting the mug down next to me. “It should be easier for you to hold now.”

He fusses with my pillows. If I didn’t know any different, I’d be thinking how attentive and kind he’s being, how lucky I am to have him looking after me.

He carries the glass of tea over to the tray on the dressing table. “Try and get some more sleep, and maybe you’ll feel like something to eat when you wake up.”

I nod. I just want him to go away and let me think. I can’t even bear to look at him. I have to get out of here as soon as I can. But right now, I doubt I’d make it to the bottom of the road before collapsing. He’ll stop me if I try to leave. I can barely walk I’m so exhausted. Perhaps I should call the police on the landline when he goes downstairs. Tell them I’m in danger.