Title: Hostility
Author: Denise A. Agnew
Blurb:
Myra Harrington is tired. And sick. And sick and tired. Once a therapist, now a life coach, Myra hasn’t accomplished the goals she set out for herself two years ago when she left the insanity of psychology for coaching. One day she rips off the bandage and lets her hostility roar. Isolated in her office by a severe storm, she discovers a new side of herself. What her anger creates will tear apart her world and she may never get it back again.
Excerpt:
I hurried through my business and quickly washed my hands. I looked down at my fingers as I dried them on a scratchy paper towel. My nails needed painting.
The light bulb popped.
I gasped and swung around, half expecting the light to be shattered.
No. Just darker in the room. At least I had the little, dirty window high above the sink. I’d better send an email to the building supervisor. Not that the prick would change anything. If he followed true to form, the light bulb wouldn’t be replaced for a week.
I turned back to the mirror. My short brown hair parted on the side and curled around my collar. My hair stylist had tried a darker brown on it recently, but my pale Irish skin almost gleamed in a sickly fashion. Not the porcelain, flawless look I tried for on a daily basis. I never tanned and didn’t try. My mother had wrinkled like a prune from the tanning she’d done back in the day.
Unfortunately, my makeup hadn’t covered dark circles forming under my hazel eyes. My eyes stared back, devoid of something…essential. Unease stirred, shifted a place within me. I touched the underside of one of my eyes, watched the dark circles expand until they’d spread almost down to my nose. I frowned.
Comparing myself again. Crap. Where had that come from? I didn’t need this.
You’re a fake.
Fake. Fake. Fake.
The words whispered in my head like a deep, sibilant-voiced bully.
Everything about you is a lie. Lie. Lie.
The voice took pleasure in cruelty, in naming me things others had spoken to me so long ago. I hated it when the voice took hold. Hated it.
Get a grip. There isn’t another voice.
Once more I shook off negative thoughts. I witnessed these mental processes in my clients all the time. Lately I felt like their negativity, their inability to find ways to cope had penetrated my skin and taken up residence. A slimy, oily, presence that threatened to overfill me.
I stood at the mirror, unable to move, staring at myself. My white, short sleeve top didn’t offer much protection to the chill that entered the room, but at least the sweater helped. Interesting, because this damn room wasn’t air-conditioned. I rubbed my arms, and then smoothed my hands over the hips of my red, knee length skirt.
Darkness entered the room. Monsoon clouds probably crossed the mountains to the west. Soon, if we were lucky, they’d come down on the small city with heavy moisture.
Goosebumps prickled over my body as dread gathered. A prickle ran up my spine, and a strange sensation assaulted me. Someone stood in the restroom with me. I jerked.
I swung around again. No one.
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Website: www.deniseagnew.com
Twitter: @DeniseA.Agnew
Thank you for featuring me today Kate!