The Narrator: An absolutely addictive and unputdownable psychological thriller by K.L. Slater

Author:K.L. Slater [Slater, K.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781803149301
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2023-01-05T16:00:00+00:00

THIRTY-FOUR

The first thing she does now she is free of the vile, damp basement is take a long shower. She has to wash every trace of that filthy dungeon and her own stink from her body.

The needles of hot water feel like the definition of heaven against her clammy, cold skin. She dries herself on a fluffy white towel, cleans her teeth – her gums bleeding – and combs her wet hair back from her face but doesn’t bother using the hairdryer.

She sprays deodorant and puts on a fleecy bathrobe that’s hanging on the back of the bathroom door. It feels so soft against her skin, and she wonders at how it’s the small pleasures she’s missed the most.

She had been so focused on making money, yearning for attention and recognition. She’d been prepared to risk everything to get it, but what did it all mean, really? Nothing, if she didn’t have her freedom.

The fridge contains a carton of fresh orange juice, two large bottles of water, yogurt, cheese and fruit.

She pours herself a small glass of juice which she mixes with water so it’s gentler on her stomach. She walks over to the desk and sits down, opens the laptop. There’s no password. The only items on the desktop are the nine Tower audio files and a Microsoft Word icon.

She clicks on book three, Death at the Tower, pops on the headphones and presses play.

After listening for five minutes, she takes off the headphones. This narrator is perfect for the Tower series. She brings the characters to life and the readers love her.

She’d adored writing the series back in the early books. She’d thanked her lucky stars on a daily basis that she was doing what she loved for a living, even if it hadn’t turned out to be quite the glamorous career she’d once hoped for. It hadn’t felt like work at all. But then the pressure had started. The demands, the attempts to dictate what happened in her plots. The more popular the books became, the worse the interference from various quarters. And the more she felt resentful she wasn’t getting the money and recognition she alone deserved.

The pressure had increased until she’d found it unbearable. She wanted to show she was in charge of her own words and she could not be forced to write to order.

In the end, she’d been worried for her own safety and that’s why she’d had to make a stand… a decision that had gone horribly wrong.

The precise details of the who, where and when of her predicament were tantalisingly close now. She could feel them almost within grasp but, like trying to recollect a dream, the harder she tried to reach for them, the more the details drifted away. So she let it be for now.

A complete book would usually take her months to write, but under this kind of pressure and strain, it could be longer. She had better get started.

She works for three hours solid, until an all-consuming tiredness envelops her.

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