Hell Within Walking Distance

By Liza O'Connor

Cara faints on a subway and dreams that she wakes in the arms of an adoring husband. This charming, caring man soon claims her heart.

When she reawakens to her miserable life, the memory of her dream life gives her the courage to escape her tormentor. Newly discovered friends help her disappear by placing her in the household of a wealthy philanthropist who is determined to pull his beloved wife out of her coma.

When Cara realizes the philanthropist is her dream husband, she concludes she is to blame for his wife's coma. Cara is determined to do whatever it takes to return his wife's soul to her body, even if it kills her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Authors Online
• Release date: Jun 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393670377

Liza O'Connor

   Liza lives in Denville, NJ with her dog Jess. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels. She loves to create interesting characters, set them loose, and scribe what happens in a myriad of genres. http://www.lizaoconnor.com/   

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cara stood at a crossroad . To her right, bleak tenement buildings towered over her. Graffiti-covered plywood nailed across the doors and broken out windows all screamed abandonment and heightened her sense of danger.

A few rusted car carcasses, stripped bare to their frames, remained on the sides of the street, blackened from fire. They looked as if giant dragons had attacked and eaten all but their iron bones: dragons that nested in the buildings, hiding in those gapping black windowless holes; dragons waiting for their next meal to walk down the road.

Well? Damon asked in a terse, annoyed tone that silently screamed once again that she wasn’t meeting expectations. You do know how to get back to civilization, I hope.

Cara looked to her left. This street possessed signs of life, but dangerous life. Predators lurked in the shadows. Sleeping neon signs hung from the buildings, quiet now, but later they would scream in bright blinking lights their messages: Sexy Girls...All Nude...Magical Massages.

While the signs presently slept, in the dark shadows of the doors and alleys she could see men huddled in nefarious business transactions. Cars crawled up and down the street while tired, drained women greeted them with forced smiles.

We’re going to miss the R, Damon complained, and without waiting for her to decide, he headed up the left road, his long legs forcing her to run to keep up.

We’d better make the train, or I’m going to be most put out.

She appreciated the quick, angry pace he set. When tourists, loaded with packages and money, wandered into the dens of hungry predators, missing a damn train was the least of their worries. Several of the men in the shadows watched her like wolves sighting deer as she trotted behind Damon. When they reached the end of the street, he stopped.

Well?

She stared at their choices. Nothing looked familiar. Either everything had changed since she was last here or... Fear paralyzed her. What if they were completely off course, moving away from the train station rather than toward it?

Oh, for God sakes! Are you lost?

She wished he had not yelled quite so loud. They now had the full attention of several of the wolves in the darkened shadows. One stepped out. He was small, but muscular with sufficient scars to prove he wasn’t afraid of confrontation.

Hey baby, if you don’t like your sugar daddy, I’ll take you on.

Cara took off down a street. She had no idea if it was the right one, only that it headed away from the predators.

Why are you running? Slow down! Damon yelled.

She slowed, but only because pain ripped the side of her stomach. She had never been able to run without catching a stitch, not as a child, and certainly not as a thirty-five-year-old woman.

She glanced behind them, relieved to see no one followed. Their current street reeked of urine, but other than the odor and a few sleeping bodies to maneuver around, it was quiet, and her terror turned to resentment.

She hadn’t asked to come into this hellhole. She didn’t care a wit about old coins. However, Damon was determined to locate a merchant who lived among the dragons and wolves. Unfortunately, Damon had failed to mention the merchant was an Orthodox Jew, so at the end of their trek through Dante’s Hell, they discovered the shop closed. Determined not to have wasted his Saturday, he led her through the neighboring streets, looking for another merchant—anything to justify his wasted time.

He had discovered a bookstore and loaded her backpack to the brim while his two shopping bags were no more than a quarter full. Any more weight might have cut into his fine baby calfskin gloves—God forbid. Much better to load up the guide-cow.

He evidently sensed her growing ill will over their journey into hell. "I don’t know why you’re in a mood. I’m the one who was unable to buy the coin I wanted. However, if you have gotten us lost, I will be the one who loses my temper."

God, she hated him! Maybe she should have taken the little Spanish guy up on his offer. Slavery and prostitution couldn’t be much worse than her current situation. Yes, she lived in a beautiful high rise, but other than geography, she didn’t see how her life was much better. She was a virtual slave, waiting for Damon to decide what she could or couldn’t do. The only ‘friends’ he permitted were the wives of his friends, and she could never get beyond their superficial surface to find a personality to befriend. He monitored her food intake and her exercising regime to ensure she maintained a pleasing body. He also selected her reading material.

On occasion, he would send her to a class to ‘improve’ her. The results always disappointed him, and she would endure his lectures on her lack of ambition, talent, and fortitude for many weeks after. However, her most unforgivable sin was her birth in Hell’s Kitchen. He forbade her to tell a soul of her shameful heritage. He provided her a more acceptable history, which she dutifully told to any of the shallow people who pried into her life looking for weapons to use against him.

Forget your past, he’d lectured her throughout their fifteen years of co-habitation. However, today, when he wanted a damn coin from a merchant in Hell’s Kitchen, she was suddenly expected not only to remember her past but become a ghetto tour guide.

She sighed in relief as the subway hole came into view. She could tell by the rumbling of the sidewalk, the train was pulling in.

Shit, we are going to miss the train. He took off running, leaving her behind.

She tried to keep up, desperately tried. He never allowed her to carry money or have her own subway card, and she knew from prior experience, if it came between Damon catching the train or leaving her behind, he’d leave her in a second. He had done it before, but normally it was in Midtown where she could ask some kind looking gentleman for the cost of a token. There were no kind men on these streets.

Despite her mental declaration that life with Damon was no better than life in Hell’s Kitchen, she knew it was. She had worked hard to get out of Hell, and she had no intention of returning.

By the time she reached the turnstile, she had lost sight of Damon. He no doubt grabbed a seat on the train before some poor old woman could take it. She was determined not to be left behind, not to return to Hell.

She was about to leap the turnstile when a janitor opened a gate. She rushed past him screaming her child was on the train. A security guard stood poised to grab her, but as he heard her words and saw the fear and panic in her face, he leapt for the train door and held it open long enough for her to slip in. The backpack didn’t make it in. It was now caught on the outside of the door, while she stood on the inside.

She pulled out of the shoulder straps and watched the pack fall away. Damon would be pissed as hell, but frankly, it served him right. She took a deep breath and pushed her way through the crowded train, searching for him. She knew she’d find him with his head buried in one of his books, completely unconcerned with her absence. However, a scolding for making him worry would be the first words out of his mouth when she found him.

Her body chilled and the hairs on her neck tingled. Probably not this time. This time he’d be really pissed because she had lost the backpack filled with his books.

She wondered if she should claim a thief stole her backpack as she entered the train. It wouldn’t matter. The fault would remain firmly on her shoulders. If she had kept up with him, no one would’ve robbed her.

As she reached the last train compartment and had yet to locate Damon, she grew worried. Was it possible he had remained on the platform waiting for her?

If so, she was in serious trouble!

He wouldn’t forgive her for a year...no...that would be a story he’d tell forever. After Cara got them lost in a ghastly neighborhood, they finally come upon the train station. So they run for the train, but when he arrives, no Cara. He waits and waits for her to catch up. The train leaves, and he searches everywhere for her. Perhaps he even finds the backpack of books lying on the platform or on the tracks. Perhaps he makes the authorities stop the trains, so they can retrieve his backpack of books...and search for Cara, of course.

As if her nightmare was coming to life, the train pulled to a halt and the lights went out. They are killing the power to the track to search for me even now. Cara felt sick to her stomach. He was never going to forget or forgive this disaster.

Maybe it was time to truly rebel. She had a college degree. Maybe it was time to leave him and get a job. She could conduct clandestine interviews during the day. Yes, she would have to acquire clothes fit for an interview and then sneak out without the doorman noticing her. She remembered Damon complaining about her inability to speak properly. Perhaps if she were to mention public speaking courses, he would decide she needed lessons. That would not only get her out of the house, but also provide a reason to purchase a professional suit. She smiled. If she could climb her way out of Hell, she could climb her way out of Damon’s home as well.

The lights came back on and the train jerked forward, causing her to lose her balance. A hand gently caught her about the waist. She looked up at the brown-haired man with frameless glasses. He smiled at her.

His smile confused her. It was kind and loving, and his eyes sparkled with happiness.

You okay? he asked with genuine concern.

She nodded. His hand still wrapped around her waist. She knew she should step away, but he made her feel safe—for the first time in her life.

I know you hate blackouts, but we’re almost home.

She did hate blackouts, but how did he know that, and why would he say, We’re almost home?

She glanced around the train. Everyone was different. Outside was different. The train was different.

Panic roiled in her stomach and blood rushed to her head, causing her vision to gray. The train pulled to a halt and his gentle arm curled around her waist, leading her off the train.

The cold fresh air helped as did the safety she felt in this stranger’s arms. He led her down the street, chattering happily about people she didn’t know, but oddly, he seemed to believe she knew them.

I apologize for accepting an invitation to Margaret’s party, but I promise to stay at your side the entire night, and at the first sign of a frown on your beautiful face, I’ll formulate some excuse and we’ll escape.

He then laughed at her expression.

I know, you think me a terrible liar, but if I practice before hand, I think I can rise to the occasion. Perhaps you can help me come up with some magnificent excuse with your wonderful creative mind.

She was about to tell him she had no idea who he was, but when she looked into his loving eyes, she couldn’t. She might not have a clue who he was, but he seemed a thousand times better than Damon, so why chase him off so quickly. He might be nothing more than a wishful delusion to occupy her mind during the blackout, but he was a very nice delusion.

Well, I could remember I left the stove on... she offered as a possible reason to leave a party.

Not a chance! I’m the one who got us invited to this silly thing, so any blame must be placed on me.

She liked this delusion more and more.

Well, might you have left the iron on?

That would imply Mrs. Duncan failed in her duties.

They had a housekeeper—nice.

Perhaps no one has to be blamed. Perhaps we have acquired a new puppy that cannot be left alone for so long.

He stopped walking, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She resisted only a moment. Damon’s teeth always cut into her lips when he kissed. When she realized her delusion’s kiss was gentle and pain free, she relaxed and gave into the pleasure filling her body. After the third person bumped into them, and someone yelled to get a room, he broke off the kiss and eased her closer to the wall.

You are the finest wife a man could have! Thank you so much!

Wife? To a fabulous delusion? Why not? She curled her arms around his neck. You are more than welcome.

So, have you picked him up yet?

No, to be honest, I just decided.

He laughed. Then God bless Margaret Godswitch for inviting us to that party. He pulled out his phone and made a call. Mr. Stringer, this is Paul Davidson. My darling wife, Cara, wishes to buy me the male for my birthday. You haven’t sold him to someone else have you?

Cara could tell by the happy relief on her husband’s face, the pup was still available. Paul asked her if they could pick him up now and she nodded. Anything for her delusion husband! He promised Mr. Stringer they’d be right over and flagged down a taxi.

Before they arrived at Mr. Stringers, they had to purchase a few thousand dollars worth of items from a pet store, which Paul attempted to carry all on his own. Cara scolded him, observing she had two working arms as well, then retrieved several of the bags. Back in the taxi, he gave the driver an address in Queens. The driver complained, until Paul mentioned this was a two-way trip. Now assured of a grand