Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 713(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 713(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
I’d been sitting here trying to figure out why my gas meter was almost empty when I could’ve sworn I had almost a full tank. I hadn’t done much driving yesterday since I felt sick as a dog, and the place I had found to sleep last night wasn’t that far.
I scratched my chest and sides before pulling down the visor to see what the hell was going on. My chest was covered in a rash that had spread and was only getting worse.
It looks like I had brought some of those fleas with me, and there were even more today than they were yesterday. I tried opening the windows to get them all out, but most of them seemed happy to stay.
As if my day wasn’t horrible enough, that damn ditty kept playing from somewhere, striking fear in me each time I heard it. The words didn’t make any sense and I couldn’t place the voice, but now was not the time to think about that. I needed to find a bathroom quick, but looking across the parking lot, the entrance to the store seemed miles away.
Just as I was about to open the door and make a run for it, I felt a sting on my thigh under my skirt, and in reflex, my bladder just decided to open up the floodgates, and I sat there wetting myself.
It was so incongruous that I gazed off for a moment. The release in my full bladder brought much relief, but that was quickly followed by the worst itch yet. My urine had run down into the bug bites on my butt and the backs of my legs, among other places, and the itch was enough to drive me crazy.
The more I scratched, the more I needed to. I could feel my skin tearing beneath my nails as I dug them into my flesh to ease that abominable itch. My phone, which, thank mercy, I was able to charge in the car, went off, and I snatched it up like a lifeline.
There were lots of notifications when I turned it on, and I followed the first one that popped up. It was the local community forum, a place I spent lots of time getting the latest gossip and keeping up with what was going on in my own backyard.
When I first saw my name mentioned in the comments, I thought that maybe my friends had noticed that I was gone and were looking for me. I took a quick glance in the mirror to take stock of my appearance, then looked away quickly.
I look a mess. My face was red and blotchy, my hair hadn’t been combed, and I had the most horrendous morning breath. I should’ve saved some of those mints yesterday, but I was so hungry, and they were all I had. Even if I saw someone I knew, how could I face them looking like this?
I started reading through the words on the screen in between bouts of dizziness and felt the punch to the gut. Who the hell is this Rhoda person? I don’t think I know anyone by that name. And yet, this person seemed to know a lot about me and was spreading it around in the worst place possible.
Everyone visits this site even though they try to pretend not to. Only lowlifes actually comment there, but I knew for a fact that all of the women in my circle read and discuss the things we find here on a weekly basis. Which means they’re going to see this as well.
There was mention of me and Corbin’s relationship and how it began. Now, people were speculating about me as if I was a nobody and not the wife of one of the county’s most prestigious citizens.
I read some of the comments, and they made my stomach curdle. People were laughing at me, some saying how much they hated and never liked nor trusted me. That Rhoda person was in the comments as well, fanning the flames, but who was she? And how did she know these things?
Oh no, was he back? There was only one person who knew about my attempt to hire a hitman, and that was the man himself. That bastard had stolen my money and disappeared more than fifteen years ago.
But why would he out himself? No, this had to be someone else, but who? Who did he talk to? I have to have my name removed from this vile page, but I didn’t have the first clue how to go about doing that.
There were already hundreds, if not thousands, of comments, not to mention views. If the women from the country club saw this that would be the end of me. All my years of hard work would be down the drain.