Zero Days

by Ruth Ware

plus a tattoo on her shoulder blade that said stick ’em with the pointy end.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 5 MINUS SEVEN DAYS Please try him again.” I knew my voice was getting testy, and I tried to keep it calm. If you react, the person you’re talking to reacts back. First rule of social engineering: stay pleasant and others are much more likely to do the same. But this was bloody annoying. What was the point of having a get-out-of-jail-free card if the guarantor didn’t pick up? “I can assure you he knows all about this and can vouch for me.”

I had never understood substance abuse until that moment; even in the worst moments of my life before—the jackknifing lorry that had crushed my parents’ car when I was seventeen, the grueling breakdown of my relationship with Jeff just a few years later—even in the middle of complete despair, I had never experienced the urge to opt out of feeling. But now—now if I could have made the pain go away, I would. If I could have crawled back into Hel’s