Nails In A Coffin (Demi Reynolds Book 1) by Luis Samways

none. It was like she was back at square one. As if the kids were teasing her in the playground once again. Calling her names. Laughing. Dancing around her.
    It made her angry. That was when she balled up her fists and began to pull them apart. She was working on releasing herself from the restraints around her wrists. She wasn’t going to let Donny the Hat dictate her fate.
    She wanted her control back.
    Suddenly, the movement slowed down. They were stopping. It was a race against time to get her control back.
    Before it was too late.

Eighteen
     
    Hamish had been sitting in his car for a good twenty minutes. He had arrived at the car park his boss summoned him to with plenty of time to spare, it would seem. Donny was nowhere to be seen, and that made Hamish feel a little unsettled.
    His boss was usually on time. It was one of his character traits. If he was late, then it could only mean one thing: He’d blame Hamish for it, and Hamish would get a slap for his efforts. Hamish didn’t feel like taking one of his boss’s slaps. As much as he could hold in his rage, sometimes he felt like slapping Donny back. Hamish knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. No matter how hard Hamish could slap his boss, Donny would end up killing him for such an action.
    That was why Hamish hadn’t slapped Donny before. He knew he could out-fight and out-power his boss, but the thing with Donny was, there was no such thing as a fair fight. It was never one on one with him. It was one on one with a gun, or one on one with a chainsaw. That was the type of man that Donny the Hat was. He was a terrorist. Not in the sense of 9/11, but in the sense that he’d do what he wanted when he wanted. He terrorized people. He hurt them. He defiled them. So getting on Donny’s bad side wasn’t a good idea. For the many men who had, they quickly learnt that they would pay dearly for such a mistake.
    “Come on, Donny!” Hamish said out loud as he rested his hands on the steering wheel and kept an eye on the car park’s entrance.
    Hamish’s car was the only vehicle in sight. The whole place was deserted. The car park was one of those three-story buildings with walls on both sides and pillars in the middle. It stank of petrol and engine oil. It was cold, and the brick walls looked like they needed a lick of paint. Hamish was daydreaming about catching the football game on Sky Sports that night. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get home in time to see it, but the beer garden had a few TVs, so he’d be able to catch glimpses of the game.
    He was close to shutting his eyes and going to sleep when his hand slipped off the wheel and sounded off the car’s horn. A loud squawk of an echo reverberated off the walls and jolted him out of his slumber. He saw the time on his car’s dashboard. It was half past eleven. His boss was slacking, and Hamish was ready to call it quits. But then he noticed a big black vehicle pulling into the car park. The little yellow barrier raised and let the car through. It was an automatic barrier. Which was good, because Hamish thought that a hearse pulling into a car park might raise a few eyebrows with car park workers.
    The big black hearse took an easy left and pulled up next to the vehicle. Hamish caught a glimpse of a coffin behind shiny glass. He stared at the coffin, and his heart began to thump. Was it meant for him? Had Donny finally lost his rag with Hamish, and this was an ambush?
    The hearse’s window wound down. His boss was sitting in the driver’s seat. He had black gloves on and was fiddling around with them, tightening them up as he waited for Hamish to roll down his window.
    “Come on, hurry up!” Donny spat as he watched Hamish wind down his window. It was old and seemed to be catching on the doorframe, which slowed down the rate at which it wound down.
    “Hey, boss,” Hamish said as the window disappeared into the door and a slight breeze hit his face.
    “Hey, yourself,” Donny said, still fiddling around