Breeding Ground Read Online Free PDF

was the conversation with Dr. Judge. If I was going insane, then at least I had him for company. What had he said? We’ll have to wait and see. It wasn’t a comforting prospect. Not for me and Chloe and our unborn child. Maybe his lying to Chloe had been a kindness after all. I stared at the pavement, not needing to see into any more lives, and trudged forward into the falling darkness.
    Finally, I found myself outside our little cottage and quietly let myself in. I didn’t like the small wave of relief that I felt when silence greeted me and I realised that Chloe was already in bed. Getting a can of beer from the fridge, I cracked it open and went into the dark sitting room, leaving the lights off and flicking on the remote control.
    Sophie Rayworth was delivering the news, and the can stopped inches from my mouth as her image glowed in the gloom. She was at least a stone heavier than she had been the last time I’d paid her any attention. Easily. Maybe more. I wasn’t normally that great a judge of women’s weight, but recently I’d become more of an expert. And was it my imagination or did she seem distracted, a little vague? She stumbled over two lines in the few moments that I watched. Not
     
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    exactly her normal slick professional self. I wondered if she’d be giving us the ten o’clock news the next day, or would that show be “closed due to sickness?”
    Turning the TV off, I leaned back into the armchair and shut my eyes, my temples throbbing with an oncoming tension headache. No great surprise there. I’m not sure how long I sat there like that in the silent dark, but eventually my thoughts and the headache became too oppressive and I sleepily climbed the stairs to our bedroom.
    Without brushing my teeth, I peeled off my clothes as quietly as I could and climbed into bed. Chloe was sleeping curled up on her side, facing the other way as I lay on my back, gazing up at the ceiling hidden in the dark.
    “Hold me, Matt.” Her soft voice cut through my thoughts and into my heart. That was my Chloe speaking.
    Rolling next to her, I wrapped my arm around her body, ignoring its unfamiliar feel. She pulled my hand up so it was under her face.
    “I’m scared.”
    I pulled her close and said all I could that was true without admitting my own fear.
    “I love you, Chloe.”
    The next morning was Saturday. When I finally opened my bleary eyes, still heavy from a fitful night’s sleep, I realised the bed beside me was empty. Ignoring the vague thudding that was left of my headache from the night before, I called out her name, then listened for any sound of movement below. There was nothing. She’d gone out. Whether that was a good thing or bad, I didn’t know, and rather than just lie there with only
     
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    my morbid thoughts for company, I decided on a hot shower to blast away the cobwebs.
    Outside, the sun was shining brightly and I opened the bathroom window a little, the spring breeze refreshingly cutting through the steam erupting from the hot jet of water, and despite everything, I felt my spirits rise. My headache lingered and my mouth felt as if it were covered in fur, but there was a hint of summer in the air, and that always made me feel good.
    By the time I was dressed and coming downstairs, I was whistling and sure that whatever was going on, they would be sorting it out, and before we all knew it everything would be back to normal. The rustling of plastic bags escaped from the kitchen and I followed the sound.
    My whistling stopped in the doorway, the dampness of my hair suddenly cold against my head, my scalp bristling with goose bumps.
    “Morning, Chloe.” I tried to keep my voice normal, but I heard the shake in it, and I’m sure if she cared, then she would have, too. Jesus Christ, what had happened to her? After those first two words, I just stood and stared, watching as she shuffled about the kitchen. I don’t know if she even noticed my shock. She was bigger. Much bigger than