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Authors: Jill Patten

Inseparable Strangers

BOOK: Inseparable Strangers
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Inseparable Strangers

by

Jill
Patten

 

 

Copyright © 2014 by Jill Patten

 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

 

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the
written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a
book review.

 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events,
or locales is entirely coincidental. With the exception of the original
material written by the author, all songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in
this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

 

For all of those who believe in spirits whether
they’re good or evil.

 

“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a
dream.”


  
Edgar
Allan Poe

Chapter 1

 

“Dad, you can’t
expect me to use my shopping money to buy new tires. It’s not fair and you know
it,” I whined. Although he couldn’t see me, my bottom lip protruded, nearly
rubbing against the phone. It was a natural reaction whenever I manipulated my
father into getting my way. The old fart was outwitting my old tricks because
this time he wasn’t giving in.

As soon as I
backed out of the garage, the heavy sound of rain drops vibrated all around me.
From a distance you could see a darker set of clouds rolling in. The trees were
already starting to sway as they danced with the wind. A kickass storm was brewing
and headed my way. Perfect, my kind of weather — dreary and vengeful.

In his usual calm
voice, he said, “Princess, I’ve told you already, the money I give you is yours
to spend however you want, but you are responsible for the maintenance on your vehicle.
When the car was put in your name, I told you then this is how it was going to
be.”

If we weren’t
talking over the phone, I would be able to convince him. He could never resist
my faux tears. “Dad, you’re not being fair and you know it,” I huffed. It
wasn’t my fault he created a monster.

“Princess, I can’t
do everything for you forever. You’re old man isn’t going to be here one day. I
can’t leave this world thinking my little girl can’t take care of herself.”

Wait. What? Is he
hiding something from me?
My heart fluttered, and it wasn’t the good kind when
you saw a hot guy either. “Dad, are you dying?”

He chuckled into
the phone. “No…no. Why would you ask that?”

Relief washed over
me. I guess I loved the guy more than I realized. “Well, because you were
talking about not being here one day so…it sort of sounded like you could be
deathly ill.”

“Well, the last
time I visited the doc he told me my blood pressure is the best it’s been in
months, so no worries. Hold a second, Len.” His hand must’ve been over the
receiver because I could hear a muffled sound of someone talking in the
background. “Listen, Lennox, I have patients I need to tend to. Just get the
tires so I’ll stop worrying.” Someone was distracting him again. “Look, I
really have to go now. I love you, sweetie."

“I love you too,
Dad,” I said to dead air.

There could only
be one reason he rushed me off the phone — my father’s wife, Pam. The bitch
from hell who came into our life and ruined everything after my mother died. I
was the only female in his life aside from my mother, leaving me his number one
priority until she came along. Everybody knew she only married my father for
his money, except him. Even her so-called best friends knew, but they pretended
to not notice. She only worked at his pediatric office so she could keep an eye
on him. Or, maybe so she could keep an eye on the other nurses. Either way, I
hated her and she hated me, so we avoided each other like the plague.

From day one she
never accepted me. My blazing red hair put me in the red-headed stepchild
category as far as she was concerned. When I was little, kids used to tease me
and say I was adopted because my father and I looked nothing alike. She laughed
right along with them, until my dad was around. I honestly believed she was the
reason I turned into a spiteful bitch, and the reason I never had any friends.

My father could do
so much better than her. He was a rightly handsome man, the best pediatrician
around, and for a very short time, the most eligible bachelor in town. He had
salt and pepper hair, a little on the darker side, and to where I had blue eyes
like my mother, his were a rich brown that matched his deep olive skin. My
favorite feature of his was a smile that could always make everything better.
All Pam had to offer were her fake tits, fake tan, fake face, and her fake-ass
smile my dad paid for.

As I turned onto
the entrance ramp, I flipped the volume up loud enough to drown out the
torrential rain and swishing wipers. My stereo blared out tunes from Avenged Sevenfold
as I traveled down the wet country highway. Surprisingly there weren’t many
cars on the road, they either knew to get out of my way or the storm could have
something to do with it, either way I was happy to have the road to myself.
Touching up my make-up while driving hadn’t even slowed me down. It was one of
those kinds of days. The kind where I needed something to match the mood I was
in. No thanks to my dad and the bitch. Just like my insides, the weather was
fierce with raging thunder.

I couldn’t get
over it; my dad putting the lockdown on my cash flow. Really? Once again, my
dad was being his typical bastard self. Coming from old money, he had more cash
than he knew what to do with, and he couldn’t give me a measly five hundred
dollars for two new tires? Pocket change. That’s all it was to him. If he told
me one more time that I needed to be more accountable for myself, or I should
be responsible for the maintenance on my car, I would put a bullet to my head.
Well, not really, I loved myself too much to purposely inflict injury, but I
would consider it for a minute or two. He couldn’t cater to my needs for twenty
four solid years, then expect to cut me off cold turkey. It was complete and
utter bullshit. He probably thought because my cousin, Victoria was coming in
town to visit for a couple of weeks that I would spend every dime I owned on
shopping. So what if we did? It was my money and I could spend it however I
damned well pleased. I should’ve asked him while Pam was conveniently away.

This was one of
those times I wished I had my mother. She would understand my obsession with
shopping. She would tell my father he was being unreasonable and make him
understand all men are supposed to take care of the vehicle maintenance while
women make themselves look pretty for their men. Not that I had a man, but
still, you never knew when Mr. Right would pop up.

Fine, let him deal
with the grief of sending me to my possible death via hydroplaning. Even if I
wasn’t injured, I knew he would be devastated if I ended up stranded on the
side of the road in these conditions. Sort of like that loser I just passed
hitching a ride. Who in their right mind would be walking out in this kind of
weather? And who in their right mind would pick up someone who looked as disgusting
as he did? Was it that hard for people to get a job? What a waste of space.
.
I mean, seriously, society should rid themselves of all that scum just like
they did in that movie,
The Purge.
Most people were appalled by the
film, but I found the idea brilliant.

Last year my
father had his office broken into by a group of homeless hoodlums who were
looking for prescription drugs. Luckily, they were caught two days later while
breaking into another private practice. I still lived in fear for weeks later because
not only had they stolen meds, they’d also rummaged through tons of personal
files of my fathers, and I was terrified they knew where I lived. Just more
proof why we should drop them off the side of the earth.

“Ahh!” I screamed
from the loud pop that just pierced through my heart. My car jerked to the
left, but I quickly turned the tires to my right, and pressed on the brakes
hard. From there on, I wasn’t sure what happened until I came to with an aching
headache. Reaching up, I rubbed the sore spot on my forehead. When I pulled my
hand away, there was blood all over my fingertips. I flipped the sun visor down
and examined my injury in the small mirror. Rolling my eyes, I blew out an
exasperated breath. “Great. Now I’m going to have a fucking scar. Isn’t that
just lovely,” I said to myself. My father had told me a million times not to
put the seatbelt strap under my armpit. I guess sometimes he did know what he
was talking about. Of course I would never tell him that.

Somehow, I managed
to avoid hitting the guardrail. Kind of odd when I couldn’t remember what
happened from the time I heard the loud blasting sound to the moment my car
stopped on the side of the road. The big man upstairs must’ve been looking out
for me, because how else would I have missed it while being unconscious?

With a shaky hand,
I turned the ignition, and killed the engine. I draped my arm over the steering
wheel and rested my head against it as I tried to calm my precarious nerves.
“Ouch!” I’d already forgotten about the cut above my eyebrow. I was still in
shock that I’d survived something that could’ve ended so horrific. “What the
hell just happened,” I muttered to myself. A warm sensation came over me
causing my insides to feel numb. Never had I been so scared in my life. I literally
wanted to cry.
Calm down…you’re okay, just breathe.

After taking
several deep breaths, the numbness slowly dissipated, and I flopped back in my
seat with my eyes closed. The rain pelted against my car so hard it made me
wonder if it was hailing instead. Suddenly, it dawned on me what happened.
My
tires.
A tire must’ve blown. That was the only explanation for the sound of
a gun going off. Maybe dad knew what he was talking about after all. I guess I
should’ve had those tires replaced before now. That’s twice now.
Ugh! I hate
it when he’s right.

Looking over at my
empty passenger seat, I leaned over toward the floor board in search for my
phone. Once I found it, I frantically hit the button to bring up my contacts.
Shit
!
It was dead. I held the power button in hopes of finding one percent of life
left in it, but to no avail, I was screwed. My phone beeped before my dad had
called indicating my battery was low, but I didn’t check to see just how low it
was.

As I sat in a
panic, I remembered the car charger I kept in my glove box.
Thank God I’m so
smart and responsible.
Digging my hand through the layers of napkins and
extra fast food straws, I came up empty handed.

“What the fucking
hell!” I screamed out in the small confines of my car. A shot of pain sizzled
through my head causing me to wince. A massive migraine was beginning to build
up. The beige dashboard took the brunt of my aggression as I repeatedly beat my
fist against it. Not only could I not call for help, I also wasn’t able to let
Victoria know I wouldn’t be making our dinner date.

The windows began
to fog up, and the rain washed down the glass in masses causing my surroundings
to blur.
How could I have been so stupid to not charge my phone? Where the
hell was my charger?
I opened up the console in hopes of finding it there,
but it was only full of lotion, Kleenex, and hand sanitizer. Staying clean and
moisturized wasn’t going to help me survive in this situation. Pulling a couple
of tissues out, I dabbed them over the cut on my head.

I sat in the car
listening to the clouds battle it out as loud claps of lightning lit up the sky
like the Fourth of July. I was stuck, unable to do anything until the storm
blew past. It was late September, and Fall storms always seemed to be so
picturesque and long. I worried the storms would continue on in their dramatic
fashion throughout the night leaving me here even longer.

A pecking against
the driver’s window startled me from my thoughts. I jumped back from the
blurred figure standing beside my car. Oh hell no, I was not opening the door
for any scum dumb enough to be walking the highways as night drew over the
horizon.
Oh, God. He’s going to kill me.
Moving before my brain
registered what to do, I hit the door lock button to secure myself.

Wrapped up in an
old ragged, brown coat, it looked like the person standing outside my door was
a man. His hair looked to be brown, wet and matted. Eww. The downpour of rain
made it unable to tell if his hair was in dreads, or if it was just mangled
from living in filth. His beard was long with kinky curls, resembling those men
from the Duck Dynasty show everybody in my small town raved about. He wore one
of those mesh truck driver hats down low on his forehead, making it nearly
impossible to see his eyes. It was the hitchhiker I passed right before my tire
blew. Holy shit, how could I have forgotten about him?

Knuckles knocked
against my window again. Stricken with fear, and momentary lapse of memory, I
looked to my phone for help. Of course my phone would be dead in a moment like
this. Finally giving into my situation, I toss the traitorous thing over to the
passenger seat. My heart accelerated in my chest as fear settled in, and my
head started to throb. Any other time a State Trooper would be patrolling this
stretch of road. Any other time, I would have a phone with battery life too.
Rainy days kept everyone inside except for my idiotic self. How was I going to
escape this freak? I couldn’t just sit here and ignore him. He obviously had
nowhere to go and I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.

Shit. Shit. Shit
.

Maybe, if I
ignored him he would go away. Maybe, if I held up my phone and threatened to
call the cops he would move along.
Yeah right, that’s a smart idea after he
just watched you toss it in the seat.
Maybe if I reached into my glove box
and pretended to have a gun he’d be scared enough to disappear.

Oh hell, who was I
kidding? I was going to die right here in this stupid car with stupid bald
tires. Fuck worrying about surviving a near fatal accident; I was going to be
this guy’s next victim. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer. Promising to
God if he helped me get out alive, I would get a job and never take my father
for granted again. I would never speak another harsh word about those less
fortunate. “Please, dear God, don’t let this freak kill me. Amen,” I whispered,
and then opened my eyes.

BOOK: Inseparable Strangers
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