Reprisal by Kathy Coopmans
Sequel to CONTRITE
Photography by Eric David Battershell
Model Nathan D. Weller
Model Tessi Le’Anne
Perfect Pear Creative
Cover design Sommer Stein
Something is terribly wrong. I can feel it. My stomach is restricting, contracting. “Oh God.” My hands clutch my stomach. Excruciating pain progresses from
my lower abdomen.
“Clove.” That grating voice reaches my ears from across the room.
“Stay the hell away from me.” His bare feet appear in my line of vision. His jean clad legs bend landing him on his hands and knees in front of me.
“Please,” My voice wobbly. I’m petrified. I don’t know what’s happening or why. An unsettling feeling begins to well inside of me, clamping my eyes shut as
another agonizing pain jolts. Only this time the pressure is so intense, so unbearable, making my body shake, beads of sweat instantaneously emerge on my
forehead. “Trent.” Someone is calling his name, it’s not me though as my ability to speak is gone. My hearing is not.
There is nothing in this world that could make me not recognize the sound of that southern accent calling out Trent’s name. My heart pounding at an
increasingly rapid pace. A dozen needles stabbing profusely over and over again.
My forehead crinkles in confusion, lifting it slowly, the click clack of her heels on the hardwood floor, louder the closer they approach. Heels as bright
red as the blood beginning to pool underneath my body, those shoes are demanding the right to be heard as she squats down next to Trent. “W…what are you
doing here?” My trembling sound waves ricochet throughout the room.
“You don’t look so well Clove, my dear.”
Her sound sugary sweet. She’s watching me so intensely. I don’t know how or why it hits me, but it does. When her head tilts to the side, her snide smirk
graces her face.
“Y…you,” I say through a clenched breath. The last thing I remember before I fall on my side, crying, pleading, begging god to save my baby is the sound of
her malicious laugh.
Grab book one, Contrite!