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    DEAD (and hellbent)
    DEAD (and hellbent)
    DEAD (and hellbent)
    Ebook76 pages43 minutes

    DEAD (and hellbent)

    By Naomi Kramer

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    About this ebook

    Mike is days away from getting out of jail. But he has a big problem - he's being tormented again. This time, it's extra nasty. He's convinced that Linda is back to make his life hell.

    Linda was enjoying Heaven until Mike started screaming for her attention. She's not interested in helping him - she just wants him to go the hell away. She doesn't have much choice, though, when she's summarily kicked into Hell for tormenting Mike... despite her protestations of innocence.

    Trent, as per usual, is stuck in the middle, trying to work out what the hell is going on.

    Warning: Contains violence, rude words, and Aussie spelling and slang. Not suitable for children.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherXinXii
    Release dateFeb 16, 2014
    ISBN9783957032362
    DEAD (and hellbent)
    Author

    Naomi Kramer

    Naomi Kramer is an Australian author living in Queensland. She's addicted to coffee, dyes her hair odd colours, and looks a little like a corporate hippy on weekdays. She loves the beach, and her dream is to own a world-class barista.

    Read more from Naomi Kramer

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      Book preview

      DEAD (and hellbent) - Naomi Kramer

      Sartre

      (Linda)

      Lindaaa!!!

      The screech wakes me from a deep and happy sleep with a huge jolt.

      What the hell? I yell.

      Angel boy runs into the bedroom.

      Lindy honey, what’s wrong? he asks.

      What were you yelling about? I demand.

      Wasn’t me, honey darling, it was you! he says, looking confused.

      LINDAAAAA! Please! I hear again.

      Wait a sec, that sounded like…Mike? Nah. Why the hell would that douchebag be calling for me?

      (Mike)

      LINDAAA!!!

      I’m standing in my jail cell, three days out from being released, and I’m covered head to toe in a rash from some fucking powder sprinkled all through my sheets – don’t wanna know what the fuck that was – and shit keeps moving just as I’m about to grab it or eat it or sit on it. Everything itches. My tailbone hurts like hell. I’ve hit my head doing something. And the guy in the cell next to me is probably cursing me under his breath because I’m screaming at empty air again. Shit, the bitch has me acting like a public nutcase all over again.

      LINDA! I yell again.

      Nothing.

      What the hell is the mad bitch thinking? Isn’t she supposed to be happy and shit? Why the fuck is she back to making my life miserable? Is it because I’m about to get out of this shithole? Big fucking deal. So I’m in here for killing her. So I didn’t get a life sentence for murder. I’ve still been stuck in a jail cell for more than two bloody years. What does she want me to do? Beg them to keep me in here?

      (Linda)

      I slowly shake off the weirdness from invisible people screaming my name. There’s no chance of going back to sleep after that jolt, though, so I make a cup of coffee and find some breakfast. One of the many advantages of heaven – the fridge is always full, and the stuff in it never goes off.

      I go to work, and it’s blessedly quiet, thank God. I create, I decorate, and the simple creative tasks soothe me. Then home to my hot tub, and rose-scented water and rosehip tea. Sounds hippy, but it’s so good, too.

      LINDA!

      I jump, and water splashes everywhere.

      Linda, you mad bitch, what do you want?

      Yep, definitely Mike. I sigh. This might be a long night.

      (Mike)

      Maybe it’s not Linda. Maybe I’m going fucking mad after all. A late reaction to the superbitch trying to drive me insane. Maybe she actually succeeded all those years ago, it just took a while to hit. Fuck.

      The guys in the cells on either side of me corner me at breakfast, and point out that they like their sleep, and if I like being able to walk, I should maybe shut the fuck up and stop screeching like an ice addict in the middle of a psycho-rage. Shit, just what I need. Finishing my sentence and going out of here in a wheelchair.

      Funnily enough, though, she’s helped me in the exit assessment. The bastards could keep me in here if they decide I’m not sorry for killing the witch, or that I’m insane. But when the shrink asks me about the screaming in the middle of the night, I tell him that I’m having nightmares about killing my girlfriend, and how traumatised I am, and how it must be because I’m close to getting out and going back to where it all happened, and then fuck me, I’m crying. Me, I’m embarrassed as hell, but the shrink laps it

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