Try Not to Breathe Read Online Free

entirely sure that it was his baby in that cartoon belly, and not a ticking time bomb.
    The 1930s semi in Wallington Grove, Tunbridge Wells, had seemed like a palace when they moved in, just two years ago. It had taken prudence, abstinence and overtime to save a deposit, and the newlyweds knew that work and salary had to be the main focus for at least three years; they had to feed the machine. Fiona had agreed wholeheartedly, absolutely, the mortgage was a stretch, it would take two full-time salaries to service it and they both must do their bit.
    Some eighteen months later, after a concentrated campaign veering from the subtle to the tearful, they had started to try for a baby and conceived almost instantly. And now the baby needed an extension.
    “Fi, look, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be shitty but I really have to go. I’ve got some awful meetings today and my head’s all over the place.”
    “Sure,” she said, “whatever.”
    She didn’t ask for more than that. Why didn’t she ask for more than that now?
    They both needed to leave. Fiona for work as a graphic designer, Jacob for the hospital, where he did not work.

A my buckled in to the passenger seat and looked across at him. He caught her looking and smiled, just briefly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he looked back to the road. As he changed gear, he brushed her skirt farther up her thigh with the palm of his hand, sending a shiver across her shoulders.
    Amy wasn’t used to such direct attention. Jake would skirt around while he built up courage until the frustration became so loud in her head that she had to make the move instead. What she really wanted, what she was pretty sure she wanted, was for someone to desire her, to really want her. Someone to just
take charge
.
    She looked at his hand clamped on her knee as he stared dead ahead at the road. Dark hairs were peeking out from the end of his shirt cuff and his fingernails were clipped into perfect straight lines.
    He had been her knight in shining armor just weeks before. Appearing around the corner and whisking her away from that bloody man. Jake had already zipped past in the backseat of his mum’s car, strapped in tightly. Her friends had gone off cackling about something and she’d been left to run the gauntlet of that creep and his pleas. Again. Amy had sworn at him and told him to leave her alone. Eventually he’d slunk away, hissing under his breath and kicking loose pieces of grit into the road. Her shoulders had sagged with a mixture of relief and regret, tears falling hot.
    And then her secret had appeared, right there in the street near her school, bold and tall and striding toward her. He’d swept an arm around her waist and led her into a gateway, brushed the hair out of her eyes and asked, “What’s wrong? Can I help?”
    “It’s my dad,” she’d said, and started to cry.
    “What about your dad?” he’d asked, gently lifting her chin so her wet eyes were gazing up at his frown. “Does he hurt you?”
    “No,” she’d sobbed, “no, it’s nothing like that. It’s not my dad I live with.” She’d wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “Bob’s my step-dad. I’m talking about my real dad.”
    “Listen, fathers are complex beasts. It’s not your fault, okay? Let me give you a lift home and you can tell me all about it. All right, Amy?”
    “All right.”
    He’d opened the passenger door for her, and she’d melted into the seat.
    He hadn’t laid a finger on her that day and she’d not stopped wishing he had.

A lex Dale woke up with dead legs and a clammy forehead. She didn’t remember throwing her duvet off the bed but it was discarded between the mattress and the wall.
    She was lying on the side nearest the door. Matt’s side.
    In the abandoned space next to her was a dark, wet oval, sharp to the nose. She was wearing her pajama top, not her bottoms, which lay farther down the sheet in a wrinkled dank pile. She had absolutely no recollection of