دانلود رمان انگلیسی “تنها” – یک تریلر روانشناختی تاریک و احساسی با پیچشی دلهره‌آور

The closer she got to home, the more her foot eased up on the gas pedal. Home. That sanctuary they had built together, their cozy, secure piece of this earth, now a desolate shell of what it had once been. It had been bearable in the grocery store; keep your head down, but maintain your pace as if you had somewhere to be in a hurry. It was all in the posture. No shuffling, no making eye contact, nothing to invite conversation, even though she knew they were all talking about her. Sympathy she could not bear. Even worse was pity. She’d had enough of both in her lifetime. Driving home those first four miles from town were fine, her mind drifting to the almost imperceptible changes in the landscape the seasons brought. Only someone as familiar with this road would notice. But she did. What else did she have to do these days? Irma squinted through the windshield, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. The Buick rattled and creaked over familiar potholes, each jolt shooting pain through her arthritic hips. Darn. They had gotten worse. Probably all this sitting didn’t help. Skeletal trees lined the road, their leaves a riot of red and gold. A gust sent a flurry spiraling across her path, the windshield wipers smearing them into a yellow-brown mess. She leaned forward, peering into the damp gloom. Three miles to go. Three miles of empty fields and dying corn stalks, stripped bare by the harvest. No neighbors, no lights. Just her, alone on this godforsaken stretch of road. A deer carcass, bloated and stinking, lay in the ditch. Been there a week now. She ought to call someone about that, before the coyotes got bold. Hubert never liked them thinking they could come too near the house. The sun dipped below the treeline, shadows creeping across the pavement. Irma fumbled for her headlights. Darn if she was gonna end up in a ditch like that deer, waiting days for someone to find her. As much as she tried to control where her thoughts led, she only had so much authority over those synapses. She’d never had the sort of brain that allowed her to fool herself. No, reality was always there, fat and gloating right in her way. Irma eased the Buick onto the gravel driveway, tires crunching over fallen leaves. The porch light flickered on automatically, casting weak yellow light across the weathered farmhouse. She pulled up in her usual spot, put the car in park, but her hand hovered over the keys. The Buick’s engine rumbled, a comforting vibration through the seat. Outside, wind whispered through bare branches. Inside the car, the radio murmured softly, some ad for insurance she wasn’t really hearing. Her eyes drifted to the darkened windows of the house. Their house. Her house now. Not bad, with just the early evidence of the neglect that was sure to come. Hubert hadn’t been keeping up with things this past year. No warm glow from the living room where Hubert used to watch his evening shows. No rattle of pots from the kitchen as he prepared his infamous chili, the one dish he had perfected. Just… emptiness. Irma’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Five minutes. She’d give herself five more minutes of noise, of life, before facing that silence. Before walking into rooms that echoed with memories and what-ifs. A coyote’s yip carried on the wind. Irma startled, suddenly aware of how dark it had gotten. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. Time to go in. After all, what choice did she have?