Hell To Pay Read Online Free PDF

could be secured by a boob job, bottle blonde hair and cheap and nasty hair extensions, and who, so far, had been proven right? Even my friends had deserted me, including Shelley who’d been like my twin since we’d been sent to the headmaster’s office because our skirts were shock, horror an inch above the knee.
    "You need to move on," she’d told me when I’d outlined my plan for revenge. "Don’t let what happened destroy you, or get you on the wrong side of the law."
    She insisted she was thinking of me, but I knew she was more interested in things getting back to “normal.” Of me being the pal who was always available whenever she needed a babysitter or someone to moan to about her husband’s numerous shortcomings.
    All I had left now was simmering resentment and unadulterated hatred for the men who ruined my life and the person who paid them to do it.
    There was nothing I could do to get my attackers now – I needed to find them first - but I did have keys to backstabbing Donna Marie’s place. She’d asked me to keep a spare set in case she was ever locked out as I lived nearer to her than her other friends and she hadn’t asked for them back. No doubt she was too busy batting her ridiculously long eyelashes at my boyfriend to remember that I had them.
    Stopping short of doing a Lorena Bobbitt, there was nothing I could do to them to give them even a taster of the pain they caused me. Mutual friends told me that they’d been seeing each other behind my back even before I was attacked. Clean freak Michael was a dirty rotten cheat.
    Whilst he’d been nagging away at me for not putting placemats down on his blessed coffee table, he hadn’t been as OCD-ish when it came to debasing our bed (the one item of furniture we’d bought together) by shagging that filthy little slapper in it. Once I’d though I’d smelt tobacco on the sheets, but he convinced me I was imagining it because neither of us smoked. That bitch once confided in me with a grin that she enjoyed a fly cigarette after sex.
    You’d think having a girlfriend who’d almost died would have brought Michael to his senses and made him realize what he could have lost, but no, he sold his place and moved into that bitch’s red-bricked townhouse near the Kelvingrove Art Gallery. Her gran had left it to her favorite granddaughter in her will. There was no way she could have afforded it on her salary as a receptionist at doctor’s surgery, yet  she was always bragging about what a wonderful place she lived in at a time when property prices had skyrocketed in Glasgow and even parking spaces were going for big money.
    It was ten o’clock when I got there. I’d timed it so they’d both be at work, but I still took the precaution of ringing the doorbell. I'd no idea what I'd say if one of them appeared but I'm getting good at this lying lark and thinking on my feet.
    Nobody came to the door. No curtains twitched either, so I knocked a few times. When nobody answered the door, I used my key and let myself in. As I stepped over the few items of post, I shouted out their names, but got no response.
    Satisfied I was alone; I headed for the living room. My eyes were drawn to Michael’s table. It shouldn’t surprise me that it’s here, but seeing his pride and joy there made me feel like I’d been kicked in the stomach. He had set up home with her. Of course, I’d known that, but confronted by the evidence there was no longer any room for denial. He didn’t want me any more.
    Up until this moment, I believed I’d accepted it. Come to terms with being dumped. But, I hadn’t. My blood boiled when I caught sight of a few of my DVDs in amongst a pile beside the plasma TV. The bastard had my Thelma and Louise . There’s a telltale scratch on the cover. And my copies of The Office are there. He bought me it one Christmas and wrote “we’re Jim and Pam.”
    When he wasn’t wound up so tight or bedding my so-called friend, Michael had been a good