𝕸𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆'𝖘 𝕹𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖘☆☆☆☆𝕹𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖆 𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 {1:32AM}, 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖇𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓☆☆☆ ✦✦𝕯𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊✦✦ “Have you ever done something crazier than this?” Junior asked, sipping his soup. Nevena glanced across the dining table. “Stolen a child from a hospital in the middle of the night—and served him dinner in my house?” “Yeah.” “…No.” She exhaled through her nose. “Not exactly a bucket list thing.”Junior chuckled faintly. “You’re good at it—though.” “Is that a compliment?—’cause I’ll probably land in jail for this,” she murmured, half to herself. “Twenty-year term with payroll—that's the best you'd get,” Junior replied without hesitation. “But trust me—it’s worth it.” She glanced at him. A six-year-old shouldn’t sound like that. “Junior,” she called after a moment, “How old are you, really?” “Six and three-quarters. But sometimes I feel like Mummy lied about my age.” “Obviously—’cause you so
𝕸𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆'𝖘 𝕹𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖘 A small placard etched in childlike font, glinted faintly under the hallway light. “Junior.S – Unit C” Her pace faltered—the nurses had called yesterday evening, and reminded her about his discharge, which was over two days. She stared toward the door—not long, not with softness. Just a vacant, hollow stare one gives a photograph too painful to touch. Her chest rose once. Then fell. She picked up her pace, and didn’t even slow when she came face to face with the door. Just a brief flick of her eyes toward the door, as if it were just another obstacle in the building she’d memorized—then she walked past. No twitch in her brow, no flicker of guilt. Her jaw tightened, arms stiff at her sides, as though turning that handle would unravel something inside her, which she couldn’t afford to feel. With no glance back—she simply kept walking, unaware that her son was long gone. Had she opened that door, even cracked it slightly, she might have
𝕸𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆'𝖘 𝕹𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖘. “Where do you think you're taking him?” the hoarse voice grunted —familiar and terrifying. “Bursted!” Junior whispered, blinking up to Nevena , whose grip only tightened around his wheelchair handle—teeth chattering. “Back up plan?” Nevena blinked hard, her ribs screaming, she didn't have any. "No" she hushed. The figure stepped forward, the low overhead light catching the sharp outline of a jaw, a badge on a chain. "I asked a question?" The voice is sharper now—boot echoing closer. Silence hung thick around Nevena and Junior. Her fingers just white-knuckled on the wheelchair. "Ma'am...I might have to call the whole security on you" Vargo growled. Nevena remembered him. The security in charge of the pediatrics ward. "Sorry Sir" she apologized slowly, voice thin but steady. "I was just taking him out for some fresh air". “Air?” Vargo questioned in disbelief, voice flat. “Yeah—just some fresh air, no
𝕸𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆'𝖘 𝕹𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖘☆☆☆ ☆☆☆𝕹𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖆’𝖘 𝕲𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 11:35𝖕𝖒☆☆☆ She lay on her back, a limp figure atop the plain bed with her legs tangled in the sheets. The room was dim, lit by the dying amber light slipping through the cracked curtains. The fan spins slowly above her, humming through the heavy air. The mattress dipped beneath her weight. Her marigold hair spread across the pillow like flame, a tangle of weariness and wildfire. Her eyes were open but unfocused, staring into the ceiling. She hadn’t even bothered to change out of her clothes. Her thoughts? Unruly. All she could think about was Junior’s request.> “Sneak me out of here…” Her conscience pulsed in sync with the ticking wall clock. Junior’s words had wedged themselves deep, refusing to leave. “That's reckless,” she murmured to the ceiling.Her voice was hoarse, caught somewhere between a laugh and a confession. “I'm literally dying... and He thinks I'
𝕸𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆'𝖘 𝕹𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖘☆☆☆ “ Sneak me out of here.” Nevena’s pulse skipped. “What—really? Why?” Junior nodded. “Just like in the movies. Take me away from here—maybe to your country. I want to go shell hunting—but Mom won't even let me think of it.”☆☆☆𝕸𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖊 𝖁𝖆𝖓, 𝕰𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 6:32𝖕𝖒☆☆☆ Breanna is alone—muscles tense, her fists slamming into the heavy punching bag with savage rhythm—like it owes her blood. Each strike louder than the last. The bag groans under each blow. THWACK. THWACK. The sound isn’t rhythmic—it’s violent, erratic just like Breanna's breathing. Sweat glazed her skin, her tank top clinging like a second, suffocating skin. Her knuckles, though wrapped, are blotched with seeping red while her veins pushed against skin— “Why?” She screamed, as if rage could drown her guilt. Straightening, she grits her teeth, growling as she strikes the bag—right hook, left jab, elbow, another punch. The gruesome image from t
𝕸𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆’𝖘 𝕹𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖘☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ “How did it go?” Antonio throated, without looking up. Grinch sighed, sinking into one of the seats, Darting his eyes around, he needn't be told that Antonio just had a marathon, because the air was thick with strong scent of c*m. “All done. No suspicion.” Blade nodded once. “Put the executor on the discreet payroll. Quietly. I don’t want issues like last time.” Grinch smirked. “I already sent him the executional bonus” Antonio chuckled in response. “Let's see how far Breanna would go now? She's just digging her grave.”☆☆☆☆𝕸𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝕳𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖑..{𝕰𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 5:34𝖕𝖒}☆☆☆☆ “…I know it’s overwhelming, Nevena. But ignoring your body won’t make the sickness go away,” the dietician nurse said, walking alongside her, gently but firmly holding a folder of her charts. “You need to take your meds—consistently. You’re not going to outrun this with sheer willpower, Nevena” Her voice was a mix of profession