Jinx

Jessica Huntley JINX First published in 2023 by Amazon Copyright © Jessica Huntley 2023 Jessica Huntley has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of the work. This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or copied by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the author. First edition Website: www.jessicahuntleyauthor.com Cover Design: GetCovers Edited by: Jennifer Kay Davies Proofread by: Julia Slack Connect With Jessica Find and connect with me online via the following platforms. Sign up to my email list to be notified of future books and receive my twice-monthly author newsletter: Join My Email List Visit my website: www.jessicahuntleyauthor.com Follow me on Facebook: Jessica Huntley - Author @jessica.reading.writing - Facebook Page Follow me on Instagram: @jessica_reading_writing - Instagram Page Follow me on Twitter: @jess_read_write - Twitter Page Follow me on TikTok: @jessica_reading_writing - TikTok Page Follow me on Goodreads: jessica_reading_writing - Goodreads Profile Follow me on my Amazon Author Page - Jessica Huntley Trigger Warnings Attempted suicide Abortion/Unable to conceive children PTSD/Depression/Panic attacks Murder/Death of a loved one Graphic injury detail Sexual harassment This book is dedicated to … All the serving soldiers who risk their lives every day. To all those who are different and are judged because of it. To any serving soldier who has suffered sexual harassment and abuse for whatever reason. To all those who have lost their lives, limbs and parts of themselves. To those who keep going no matter what … … This is for you. Chapter One Then Helmand Province, Afghanistan, July 2009 The heat is bone-shatteringly exhausting; each time I inhale it burns my throat and nostrils, and I dread taking my next breath. It never lets up, continuing its relentless tirade of abuse, day in and day out, each day worse than the last. I knew it was going to be tough out here. It’s not like I was expecting it to be chilly and refreshing (it’s Afghanistan for fuck’s sake), but I also wasn’t expecting it to be like living in Hell’s basement, where the fire gets hotter every damn day, stoked by Satan himself. I’d prepared for this tour, trained for months on end, but the shocking reality of the heat, the terrain, the sheer amount of energy it takes to even remain standing is, at times, gradually eating away at my soul, one day, one hour, one soul-sucking minute at a time. I already feel physically and emotionally drained and I’ve only been out here for two months, yet it feels like an eternity. My tired and overheated brain can barely remember what my mum and younger sister look like. I bet Zoe has already grown another foot taller. That teenager is going to end up towering over me at the rate she’s growing. At five feet six inches I guess I’m of an average height, but she’s destined to reach six feet for sure. Even the days roll into one – what day is it? Time appears to be non-existent in this wasteland. Every day is practically the same and I don’t get a single day off, but I do get a late start on a Sunday. That’s the only way I remember what day it is, when I’m told by my sergeant to be in at 10:00 hours instead of 07:00. All that matters is my job. I show up when I’m supposed to, do what I’m told and never question it, not ever. That’s the stark reality of being a British soldier on a six-month operational tour and I know that; it’s why I signed up to join the Army four years ago. Four years … it feels like forty. Four months to go, Aimee … ‘Price! Stop daydreaming about your next fucking shag and finish checking these fucking Snatches.’ The rough voice of Sergeant Miller booms across the golden sand towards me. ‘Yes, Sergeant!’ I snap out of my daydream of laying on a beach in Florida, sipping a cool cocktail, and focus on the job at hand, checking the oil levels, the tyre pressures and all the other things we’re taught to do when first-parading a vehicle. The only thing that matters right now is ensuring the two vehicles, both Snatch Land Rovers, are fuelled and ready to embark on the short trip across the sand to a neighbouring camp. The supplies that need to be transported have already been loaded into the back of each of them so it’s merely a matter of finishing my checks. But the fucking heat … It might have been somewhat tolerable were it not for the extra thirty-plus kilos of kit I’m constantly carrying – body armour, webbing, rifle, ammo, day-sack, helmet – they all add up and, on my small frame of little more than fifty kilos, it’s often over half of my body weight. And that’s just the normal kit I have to carry. Of course, I don’t wear full body armour all the time on camp, only when the force protection state is raised, or I venture off camp on a vehicle move, or to visit another camp, but more often than not I do always have to wear some form of protection, which is needed, especially when the threat of an exploding bomb is imminent. On my very first night here one exploded right outside of camp, which rattled my insides so much I felt sick. The ground shook so violently that I could barely stand. I’d experienced controlled explosions during my training, but it was nothing like the real thing. After that night I realised just how dangerous this job