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Chapter Seventy
You know the feeling of apprehensiveness which washes over you the moment you see that mail from the college of your dream which you had sent out an application to? Or the heebie-jeebies that fills you in when the letter in regards to the job application you sent out weeks ago comes in through the postman? The consternation to go up in front on an entire crowd of what? Twenty thousand, to wield a microphone and deliver a speech that must be nothing short of absolute perfectness? The anxiety, the unease, the angst of that something you know would either make you or mat you?
Yeah, that feeling. All of that was nothing close to the hundred and one emotions that were overwhelming Theresa at present. It was simply put, unexplainable. The nervousness that had consumed her was second to none. She could feel it eating through her skin and into her insides, slowly and slowly dissipating it, to the point she began to wonder why the hell she hadn't already collapsed from it. At HavRelated chapters
Wrenched Authors Note
Hey Guys.To the amazing ladies and gents, I'm using this medium to appreciate the lot of you who have taken and dedicated your time to read and review my book, Wrenched. I'm saying a very big thank you to you all, with a wide smile on my face.I would also like to let y'all know that I see and appreciate the constructive criticism in the reviews. Wrenched is unedited and sometimes I go through the chapters and edit certain grammatical errors and misspelt words. But I haven't officially delved into editing the chapters yet. The first few chapters are pretty much error free because I have gone over those ones a lot, but the other chapters, especially the recently updated ones I understand they'll be a lot of mistakes, and I apologise for them. I am grateful for those who sustained their interest despite these mistakes. I promise to dedicate time real soon to edit the remaining chapters of the book.For the mean time, I'll be working on
Wrenched WRENCHED: THE OUTSET OF THE STORY
Hello again, guys!Like I said in my author's note, this book is a prequel to Wrenched. Underneath this note, I'll attach a little synopsis to it, so we could have an idea of what the book would be about. I would appreciate your reviews and comments like you always do. Please enjoy!WRENCHED: THE OUTSET OF THE STORY.SYNOPSISTwo friends walk the spheres of life together and are bound by common interests and ambition to be successful at a young age. They are like brothers and would do anything for one another.But when one goes behind the others back and betrays him, the right emerge and the friendship is broke. Find out how far Robert would go at the peak of his anger, which would eventually turn him into something else.
Wrenched 01
Point of View — Robert Johnson.The name resonated so well with me, not because he was going to be my supposed boss, but strictly because he had made it as clear as mud, on not one but multiple occasions that his daughter is and will never be with a “low life” like me. It was one thing that he knew an interest, from my end had sufficed for his daughter. And it was another thing entirely that I had pursued that interest and dare I say, I had won her over.How did I not know that I was applying for a job to a media agency owned by him? No. Of course I didn’t. I would stay as far away from him as possible considering he had only to snap his finger and my entire life could go down the drain. Was it bizarre that I wanted to be like that? To snap my fingers and command circumstance? Effect changes? Control associations? Okay, not the last one. I could never. But still, it’ll be nice to know I could.Back to the job situation, I had looked it up in the papers. I had read and
Wrenched 02
Point of view — Robert JohnsonI huffed out after Mr. Jill’s angry stomp away. He was to going to be even angrier when I have to bargain with him on Thursday, to extend the deadline. I didn’t think it was going to be a problem because, well, it was never. So, I waved off his threats. It was nothing new.I took the remaining stairs to the seventh floor, lucky me. For the past week or so, the elevators has been out of order. Heaven knows what went wrong with it, but something did and it had suddenly stopped functioning. A lot of people has been on the management to fix it but nothing. Some of us, especially the occupants of the first few floors, had taken the piss and gotten used to making that walk through the staircase everyday. But for those whose apartment was situated on the tenth floor, thirteenth floor, they were never going to stop complaining, rightly so.As I approached the last stairs, I noticed Samantha, the daughter of a couple
Wrenched 03
Point of view — Robert JohnsonAn invitation to the biggest award show in the city? The Writhe of Writers Awards? No way. Impossible. Even literarily. But the invitation note staring up at me said otherwise. I had to unread, read and re-read the entire invitation letter again. How in God’s green earth did an invitation, accorded to my name, end up outside my doorstep? The only rational explanation I could think of was that it was a mistake. Yes. An invitation letter to the award show which certainly had a post card to this building — where an actual personnel is supposed to be in attendance — was mistakenly dropped on my doorstep. I have seen the post man go from door to door to drop mails on residents doorstep. What I you couldn’t phantom was the fact that my name, correctly spelt and boldly written was accorded to me. So, in the spirit of rational thinking, I had to admit that invitation was for me.Still wondering, staring at the letter, I walked in to the kitchen which adj
Wrenched 04
“Sixty two, Sixty three, Sixty four. . . Eighty seven, Eighty eight, Eighty nine, and Ninety.” I heard a man scream from inside when they counted a Ninety dollars. I mean, Ninety thousand dollars. I heard the sound of hands clasping together in a handshake, chuckles and laughter. Who wouldn’t be happy to be counting Ninety thousand dollars? Although, off the top of my head, I knew all that money was not a hundred percent acquired through legal means. Did I say a hundred? I meant one percent. And this was unarguable. Why was I so sure of this?First off, they were a gang. About two cars; a black Audi and an equally black Range Rover rounded the fuel station and parked just outside the store beside the fuel station. A couple of well built men hopped out of the Audi, then from the Range Rover, a man who looked to be in his mid fifties and a younger guy who wasn’t as built as the others but muscular enough to definitely take me on. That said, yes I was quite built; broad should
Wrenched 05
A race? Win a race? I came last when I did a relay at my high school. Though I wouldn’t fault me; I was paired with turtles in a human form.“I bet a lot on this race. I still think it was stupid. But ego, frustration and desperation together can make you do stupid things. Don’t you think Jack?”I rubbed my sore wrists. “It’s James.” And yes, desperation makes people do stupid things. I was such a perfect example at the moment.“Ahh James. Cutter is it?”At least he got my surname right. I nodded.“Don McGowan.” He extended his arms.Considering he just threatened to take out my eye balls if I don’t win whatever this race is, I didn’t feel particularly comfortable with this introduction. Though I placed my hands in his and we shook briefly.On the other hand, the name sounded very familiar. I wondered where I had heard it before.“About this race. . .” I called out to him as he had turned his back to me and was walking away.“I mean, I don’t re
Wrenched 06
Point of view — James CutterI ran out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped loosely around my waist. That is after screaming for someone to get the damn phone. And before realizing that no one was home. I had dropped off my mother at the hospital for her usual check up and my half brother, Simon Tunes, was out. As always.I used my had to wipe off the soap on my face but it was a miserable effort. Rather, some of it got into my eye. At least I made it to the living room before the phone stopped ringing.“Cutter's residence.” And Tunes'. If anyone is stupid enough to look for him.“You got the poop?”“The what?” My brows knitted in confusion.“Thought you said you were going to get some shit.”I palmed my face. “I didn’t mean literal shit. I meant sheet. Sheet! As in the contract sheet. I’ve got no business with manure. I am the middleman, remember?”“Right. I would never understand that job.”Of course I knew who was speaking.
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