The Goodman Curse by Johan Thompson

Author:Johan Thompson [Thompson, Johan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781928094777
Publisher: Tumbleweed Books
Published: 2021-09-30T22:00:00+00:00

Nicole opened her eyes, unsure of what woke her. She glanced at her wristwatch – 8:15 a.m. The unforgiving morning sun already warmed the room to an uncomfortable temperature. She threw off the suffocating duvet, stumbled into the en-suite bathroom and stopped by the mirror.

“What do you expect with four hours’ sleep,” she muttered, ruffling her tangled hair. I look like a thirty-year-old.

She stepped into the shower, gradually closing the hot water. She gasped as the icy spray worked its magic. The events of last night flashed through her mind – the sound of the scissors disappearing into Thero’s flesh, his shaking body, his dying eyes. She turned and gasped, letting the cold water wash away the image – her guilt.

A warmness within the pit of her stomach grew with intensity as she thought of Greg. His image shielded her from the cold and chased away her troubled thoughts. Bastard. She extinguished the rising flame, recalling his disappearing act. He broke her heart.

Unbelievable that she had therapy because of a man. Not Nicole Roberts! Sitting in that chair, sobbing like a little girl. He had almost derailed her plans. She knew before she went to the doctor why Greg’s disappearing act had hurt her so. Her parents also said, just like Greg, that they’d see them later. She was fifteen and her brother thirteen. Later never came because of a broken-down transport truck. Nicole’s mother drove because her father had too much to drink at his company’s Christmas function. The fucking truck broke down in the fast lane, without hazards or a cone. Mom crashed into the back at a hundred and ten. Her father died in his sleep, face ripped off.

There were many friends at the funeral, but almost no family. She never saw their friends since then – as if they had also died in the car crash. Mother was an only child. Father had a gay sister who they moved in with. Six months, later Nicole’s little brother, Dexter, hung himself on his fourteenth birthday with the Joker suspenders his father had bought him at Comicon. That was seven years ago. However, the image of him still weighed in her heart, painfully vivid. He did it in the morning, in the garage, wearing his school uniform. Was it a spur-of-the-moment decision? Was it something someone had said to him?

She closed the water and held on to the tap, watching the water trickle down the sterile white tiles. All the unanswered questions and what-ifs drove her mad. Why did they have to go to that freaking Christmas party? Why were there no reflectors on the truck? What if the tired driver had seen the pothole? Stupid questions. Were re-tread tyres so much cheaper than new ones? The only conclusion she had reached repeatedly – if not for the owner who did everything to maximize his profits, her parents would still be alive.

Then that cocky, damaged brute rode into her life with his Triumph and swept her off her feet.

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