CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

|•| ANDRÉ BAUDELAIRE |•|

I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

The tenderness of the sinister voice that came up behind me made my eyes flit to the mirror where I caught sight of the familiar dark-haired witch behind me. Her dark hair was in a lush cascade, syncing with her black dress and lips that were coated in dark lipstick. She locked like some regal dark force from a fairytale book—a dark angel perched on my left shoulder.

“What's happening?” I asked, my voice brittled.

“Isn't it obvious?” she arched a brow at me, pushing me to own up to the greatest sins I had ever committed.

“No, no, no, no!” I growled, clearing the vanity table in one sweep. I let out a gut-wrenching scream, gripping the edge of the vanity table tightly. My breath came out in unstable puffs.

“You killed her.”

She divulged those words and they hit me with a renewed sense of force that punctured me like a swift stab to the chest. I spun around, my eyes catching her cold, still, and bloodied frame on the bed. Shive