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I was already dressed and ready to go, albeit in the most unattractive clothes I owned and I had no intention of downing any more pills. There were already enough drugs in my system to last a lifetime and the thought of taking anymore, I shuddered in revulsion. I’d asked so many questions about the medicines I’d been prescribed that I knew the doctor as well as his nursing staff would certainly be glad to see the back of me. That said, I was in no doubt that the rather large blue pill was something new.
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Title Page
Bashful and Ashamed
Turning Point
Jeremy McHarry
Bashful and Ashamed / 7th of series: Turning Point / By Jeremy McHarry
Published 2023 by Bentockiz
e-book Imprint: Uniochlors
e-book Registration: Stockholm, Sweden
e-book ISBN: 9789198834239
e-book editing: Athens, Greece
Cover Images created via AI art generators
Table of Contents
Title Page
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Introduction
Through books we come into contact with everything important that has happened in the past, analyzing also current events and putting our thoughts together to predict the future. The book is a window to the world, acquiring valuable knowledge and sparking our vivid imagination. It is a means of entertainment and is generally seen as a best friend, or as a slave that carries together all valuable information for us. The book is a friend who stays together without demands, a friend you call upon at every moment and abandon when you want.
It accompanies us in the hours of boredom and loneliness, while at the same time it entertains us. In general, a book does not ask anything from us, while it waits patiently on a dusty shelf to give us its information, to get us out of dead ends and to travel us to magical worlds.
This may be the travel mission of our books. Abstract narration, weird or unconscious thoughts difficult to be understood, but always genuine and full of life experiences, these are stories of life that can’t be overlooked easily.
Chapter One
Avery didn’t offer to fix my breakfast again.
After putting much thought into the ‘why’—he could have coerced me to eat whatever he wanted whenever he wished—I decided that his purpose in the whole breakfast thing had already been served.
He must have known all along that there would be a day he would wish to drug me without wasting valuable time threatening me, so he’d managed to build up a type of—I hesitated to use the same word he had, but could think of no other—trust between us. By never giving it a second thought, I’d made it all too easy for him.
I was an idiot.
On the ninth morning, after grabbing an apple from the fridge, washing it, and carefully checking it for signs of tampering, I sat down at the table and eyed Avery malevolently.
He was already at the table and in the process of storing a musical instrument in a very expensive looking case. By the looks of things, it appeared to me that he had been cleaning it.
To say I was surprised was putting it mildly. He’d never struck me as the musical type.
“We have much to cover today,” he informed me as he carefully shut the case.
“You play the flute?”
“Your astonishment is most unflattering,” Avery pointed out as he rose and moved to the living area to gently place the instrument next to his briefcase.
“I just can’t picture you playing a flute,” I said as he returned to his seat at the table, “or any instrument, now that I think about it.”
“An obvious oversight on my part,” he acknowledged. “One which, I assure you, I shall rectify shortly. In my defense, you do tend to make it difficult for me to concentrate on my story at times.”
“If my questions distract you, it’s your own fault for choosing a psychiatrist to kidnap.”
“Kidnap...? My dear Rachel, I would hardly think that term appropriate. You remain here in your own cabin. I have not taken you anywhere.”
“Semantics,” I snorted.
“Actually, I find your questions quite enlightening. They tell me much about your character and thought processes. It is more your physical presence that has distracted me of late. I admit to having been celibate a bit longer than I am accustomed, and you are such an appealing mixture of physical fragility and mental toughness that I find it difficult to resist.”
“Try,” I suggested.
“This glorious red hair of yours...” he murmured as he reached up to finger a strand that had worked its way loose from my bun.
“Not red,” I corrected in a sharp tone then wanted to bite my tongue in two.
“Hmm...you are correct...more strawberry blonde, I think. However, you do seem to possess the fiery temper associated with redheads.”
Sinking my teeth into the apple, I pretended to ignore his comment.
“At the risk of sounding immodest, I have been told I am a most satisfactory lover.”
“I’m sure you do that as well as you do everything else, but I think I’ll pass.”
“I guarantee a pleasurable experience,” he coaxed.
“No thanks...are we doing the story thing or not because I have a book to finish.”
