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Bastard(97)



“If I was you, I’d keep that trap of yours shut. I’m in no need for your bullshit,” he snaps as his hand comes down hard on my arse. Ouch.

“What the fuck is your problem? Put me the hell down, arsehole.” All the blood is rushing to my head making it throb.

“Zip it,” he says as he storms through the kitchen heading towards the front door. I’m upside down, but I can clearly see the smile on my father’s face as I pass.

“Daddy, help me. He’s lost his mind,” I scream.

“Sorry, Pumpkin. Can’t do that. It’s for the best.” What? Next thing I know, I’m being seated in the passenger side of Carter’s car. Immediately I try to get back out. I’m not going anywhere with this crazy-arse bastard.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growls, giving me a look that instantly has me recoiling in the seat. He reaches for the seatbelt and leans over me, clicking it into place. “If you try and escape you’ll be sorry.” He locks the passenger side door before stalking around to the driver’s side. All the while my dad stands on the front porch with a grin on his face. I pinch myself. This has to be a nightmare. Ouch. Nope I’m awake.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask when he’s seated in the car. His angry eyes meet mine.

“Where do you think? To the fucking doctors.” Oh hell fucking no. Christ, my dad must’ve called him. Traitor. How could he?

“You can’t make me go,” I say reaching for the buckle of my seatbelt.

“I can and I will,” he replies grabbing my hand to stop me. Tears burn my eyes. I’m not sure if it’s from anger because he’s forcing me to do this, or from fear. I have no interest in hearing what the doctor has to say. None whatsoever.

“You can’t force me to do this,” I sneer through gritted teeth.

“I’ve got news for you, sweetheart. I can, and I fucking will.”

“This is kidnapping.” If this fucker didn’t just snatch me from my bed without giving me the chance to grab my purse or my phone, I’d be calling triple zero right now.

“Kidnapping,” he chuckles like some evil psychopath. “Your father’s a police officer and he doesn’t see it that way.” His head snaps in my direction when I reach for the door handle. He looks at my hand before making eye contact with me. One of his evil eyebrows raise as he gives me a warning look that say’s, don’t try me.

“I can’t believe you two,” I snap letting go of the door and crossing my arms over my chest like a spoilt child. Talk about overreacting. It’s a damn headache. I exhale an exasperated breath as he starts the car and backs out of the driveway. “I hate you right now.” His brow furrows and his grip on the steering wheel tightens making his knuckles turn white, but he chooses to ignore my comment.

No words are spoken on the drive to the doctor’s surgery. I’m pissed that they’re making me go. When he parks the car, he gets out. Crossing my arms over my chest in protest, I don’t move. He walks around to my side of the car and opens the door. “Get out,” he demands.

“Make me.” He sighs before bending over and undoing my seatbelt.

“Have it your way,” he growls before lifting me out of the car and slinging me over his shoulder again.

“Put me down, arsehole. I’ll walk.” I’m mortified that he’s going to carry me inside.

“Nope. You had your chance.”

“You suck,” I tell him as I slap his back like a brat. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to hear what the doctor has to say. I suddenly understand how my mum felt when she was faced with this. Tears of frustration rise to my eyes. Sometimes it’s better off not knowing the truth. In my heart I know what he’s going to say. I’ve had my headache for over two weeks. At first I thought it was stress, but when things settled down and they still didn’t go away, I started to have my doubts. Although it worried me, I pushed all my concerns to the back of my mind. I refused to believe it was anything but a simple headache. Even though logic told me it was more.

This morning when I confessed to my dad the reason why I’ve been lying down so much, not only did the colour completely drain from his face, but he had to reach out and grab hold of the table because his legs threatened to give out from underneath him. I knew in my heart my concerns were founded. I’m only twenty-two years old. I haven’t even experienced all that life has to offer.

I don’t want to die.



An hour later we leave the doctor’s surgery. It’s safe to say my stomach is in knots. I have to fast from midnight tonight and be at the hospital by 8:00am tomorrow for a blood test and a CT scan. The doctor seemed quite concerned by the duration of my headaches and, of course, my family history. He called the hospital before we left to arrange my appointments for the morning. Dread fills me when I think about everything I’m going to have to face tomorrow.