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Most people would have believed that Jerremee would have given the injections after all the assurances and the docile, apparently caring and eager-to-please, wide-eyed oaths. They would have been wrong. Jerremee very much liked being at the centre of the whole lead-up and following all of the steps in Valentina's authoritative, texted instructions though. That was fun! The injection on the other hand was scary and he was too frightened to do it, so he put it in his pocket and dumped it on the way into town later.
The next day, Valentina was still in too much pain to come down, so they played the same fun game again! And Valentina was again very grateful (yet she distrusted and detested Jerremee too much to be able to thank him profusely, as she would have done with anyone else – not to mention that the goats WERE part his responsibility anyway). This time Jerremee was distracted by Martin Martin's new car and went over to brag about the 'new big and important business deal he was just about to make' to put Martin in his place – absentmindedly dropping the precious injection on the ground.
Perhaps not giving the injections was Jerremee's way of punishing Valentina a bit more. He would get her back for being a bitch to him, because –that's right– HE was the one who was fucking in charge! HE ran the mother-fucking show!! She would never be able to prove it anyway, so whether he had or hadn't done it, was of no consequence. He didn't do anything wrong... The injection was only a bit of water anyway. Those vets were assholes. And so there would be no tarnish upon Jerremee's self image.
That evening, Valentina heard movement at the door and her heart started racing. Jerremee had the bit of wire and he was trying to push the key out again. Valentina sprung out of bed to hold the key in, but even with the light on (and she was planning on sleeping with it on) her foot got caught in the duvet cover and she went crashing to the floor, screaming in pain. The key slipped out of the lock and hit the floor with a bounce. With the old floor boards made smooth from wear, when Jerremee pushed, he was able to slide the door open a little, with the barricade Valentina had built in front of it sliding back quite easily. Valentina looked up to see his hairy hand pushing through the crack. She was in too much pain to scream. She thought about whacking his hand with something but couldn't see anything she could use to do it with and worried that she couldn't hurt him enough to effectively stop him anyway, or that he wouldn't take care of the animals if she angered him. By the time she decided to use her mug and staggered over to the door with it in absolute panic, being a thin man, he had pushed the door open enough to push his body through.
Valentina stared at him wide eyed. "Get out!" she commanded in a raspy, whispered shout, holding her chest.
"But my love, I am helping you. If you have the room locked, I can't get in here to help you. Anything could happen. There could be an accident. I'm helping you," he said in his priestly tone with an added glassy smile, apparently oblivious to Valentina's horror that he had just forced his way in. He picked up the key and put in in his trouser pocket smiling again at her. With his tongue out to the side in boyish concentration, he moved the dresser out into the hallway and brought in an old folding table Valentina hadn't seen before. He conveniently placed the table in front of the door enough, so that there was no way she would be able to shut it and covered the table with a garish tablecloth, which Valentina also had seen before. He brought in a couple of chairs, followed by a dinner of rice and vegetables, seeming quite proud of himself. Valentina was so hungry, she sat at the table and ate.
"You see? I am helping you my sweetheart. We don't want you going hungry do we?" Jerremee said, in his priestly tone. He didn't eat, but instead watched her, glassy eyed, as she ate. He knew it distressed her to have him staring at her like that (because she had told him so in the past!) but he still seemed to think it was a debonair and stimulating (or possibly romantic) thing to do... or at least he couldn't stop himself from doing it, knowing it effected her so. Seeing the anxiety on her face and her increased breathe rate, encouraged him somehow...
YOU ARE READING
A Semi-Autobiographical Story About Belonging, True Kinship & Real Love... A different sort of Lucius Malfoy: eccentric, Swedish billionaire, Lucian Isholmborg (the ex Lord Malfoy) is handsome, elegant and famous. So why does he want to kill himsel...