I feel the hard, wet floor beneath me. Am I dead? I try to open my eyes, but all I see is red. I feel the painful jabs in my ribs. I cannot move. My throat is dry; I can't speak. I try to find something I can use to help me, but I pass out again.I wake up to faint lights and voices all around me. I can feel myself moving. The ground is not as hard as before. I stretch my hand, gripping someone beside me. Oh my God! What is happening? I feel something irritating in my nose. I reach for it and pull it out. I wish that I could see or hear. Someone puts what feels like a cup over my mouth. I am scared.I finally hear sirens followed by bright lights before I pass out again. Is this it?I wake up disoriented. I don’t feel as much pain any more. I can see a bit better. I can feel the bright lights stinging my eyes.“Hey, you are awake!” I know that voice. Its Nathaniel. Wait, was he the one who attacked me? The man in the house did not talk to me. I pull myself up, looking for some familiar
Nathaniel holds my hand as he leads me to the front entrance of the house. I stop just as we are about to walk in. My knees wobbled. My heart beats hard and loud; I can hear it in my years.“I am here; everything will be alright.” Nathaniel is trying his best to reassure me, but the fact is, I almost died in this house. I nod my head, urging him to open the door. My body is still in discomfort, and staying up is a struggle. As we enter the living room, everything begins to play back. I can see the tiles are still a little stained. That has to be my blood. The bedroom door is broken. Probably from the attacker kicking it in.“How bad was it?” I ask Nathaniel.“When I walked in, I thought you were dead. You weren’t moving, Megra. There was blood everywhere.”I hear a hint of anger in his voice. Does he feel responsible?“Why did this happen to me?”Nathaniel stops walking and looks at me. He takes my hands in his. “I don’t know, but I can promise you that I will find out. Whoever did th
After a month of facing my anxiety and healing from my pain, I am finally able to look at myself in the mirror without flinching. Life is getting back to normal. Nathaniel returned to work, ensuring that there are always at least two staff members present at all times. Our plans are back on track, with us planning to announce our engagement in a month. We have also made the decision for me to see a therapist to help me cope.Today will be the first day I leave the house since I got back. Though scared, I was looking forward to the change of environment, and a shopping spree sounded like my type of therapy. I drew on the large sunglasses on the bathroom counter top, hoping that they could hide my injuries.I tried to hold my head high as I walked into the boutique store. My shaded eyes run through the custom dresses. I want to feel comfortable, but I feel as though someone is watching me. Since my attack, I have not been able to shake the feeling. I look over my shoulder, but nobody is
The room is filled with the smell of us—a gentle yet passionate encounter that we have just shared. Our clothes scattered on the floor are a reminder of what we should be sharing every single night. I lie there with the sheets caressing my skin. My heart is still racing. As I turn my head to catch a breath, I see Nathaniel beside me, his chest rising and falling. a content and sweet smile on his face. I am blown away by the way he is looking at me. His eyes make me feel beautiful and seen.Nathaniel runs his warm fingers up my hand, sending shivers down my spine. I can still feel his touch and his hands on my hips. Every encounter with him reminds me of how dull my life was with Andrew. I do not remember me being this satisfied or wanting to just stay in bed with him.I would love to live in this moment, but a more serious conversation comes to mind. I pull myself up to a sitting position. I need to know if I am losing my mind or just suffering from PTSD, as Dr. James has suggested.“
I sit in the white, sterile room. My heart is pounding. I have never been good with hospital visits. The last time I went to one without fear, I lost my mother. At 28, I am checking on my fertility levels. The irony isn’t lost to me. The doctor has already taken my blood, and now I am just sitting here waiting to hear what she has to say.She draws my attention when she walks in. I cannot read her face. Her pulling her chair is the first sign that signifies that a serious conversation awaits me."So, Megra, I have noticed something.”My heart starts to thump, and my hands start to sweat. With my kind of luck lately, I am sure the news is bad. “What?” My voice is shallow. I am afraid of the answer that I am about to get.“Well, you are pregnant and quite recent.” Her voice is gentle yet firm. The words echo in my mind, filling me with all kinds of emotions.Oh, fuck me! This sucks. This is not what I want, not now. This is not the plan. I need to know my options.“What… what should I d
The train rattles beneath me as I stare out of the window, lost in thought. The events at the cemetery are still playing over and over in my mind. Someone had to be watching me. I can still feel the cold sweat running down my back. The unsettling sensation has followed me all the way back, making my skin prickle with unease. The landscape blurred past me as we drew closer to the city. The lights were piercing the darkness that had now begun to gather.By the time I arrived back in San Francisco, it was already late. I hailed a taxi; the streets are busy despite the hour. As I settle into the backseat, I realize how exhausted I actually am. My mind is still restless. I drift, thinking of Nathaniel and the baby. How will he react when I tell him that I am pregnant? The uncertainty gnaws at me. It’s a constant twist and ache in my chest.The taxi pulls up in front of the house. I pay the driver and step into the beautiful front porch lights. The house is imposing. So much has changed for
The envelope feels heavier than it should be. Maybe it's because Nathaniel is just outside the door. Its weight is a reminder that everything I have been thinking and feeling for this man is wrong. I had forgotten about our arrangement, and his anger reminded me of how small I am. I sit by the window, the soft evening light filtering through the curtains. I open the letter. His handwriting is as beautiful as his face, precise, and almost as painful as the words he threw at me yesterday.“Megra,I owe you an apology, not just in words but in actions. My behavior has been inexcusable, and my anger towards you is unjustified. I know how much you have been through, and I did not make it easier. I was worried for you and insecure about myself, so I lashed out. My past has scarred me, and though that is not an excuse, I let it control me. I am sorry for accusing you. I should have known that this situation would not be easy for you. I should be supporting you, but instead I doubted you. Ple
“Shall we?” Nathaniel stretches his hand, and I place mine on his. We walk into the garden and are greeted by a hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. About sixty guests turn their attention to us, their faces a blur of polite smiles and curious glances. My heart pounds—a drumbeat of anxiety that Nathaniel must feel through our clasped hands. His grip tightens reassuringly, an attempt to bridge the tension that has grown between us.Our days have been filled with anger on my part and frustration on his. We have barely talked or looked each other in the eye since our fight. The fact is, this engagement is nothing but a farce to solidify our contract.I scan the crowd, searching for a familiar face, knowing very well that I won't find one apart from the staff. Loneliness creeps in. How is anyone supposed to believe that this is real if I have no one to share what should be one of the happiest days of my life with? I force a smile, determined to play my role perfectly as agreed
Epilogue MegraWe stand quietly in front of my mother’s gravestone, feeling the earth beneath my feet solid and cool, like an anchor to this moment. The air is still, the sky washed in muted shades of grey as though the world is holding its breath with me. My eyes trace the familiar letters etched into the smooth stone:**Iris Adams** **Loving Mother, Wife, Daughter, and Sister.**The words feel heavier than usual today, each title pulling me back into memories I’ve spent years trying to bury. There’s something so final about seeing her name like this. My mother. The one person who was always there for me, always strong, always protecting me. And yet, she carried so many secrets. I think about the life she left behind to raise me on her own—the family I only just found out about. All that time, it was just the two of us. She gave up so much, not for herself but for me.A gust of wind stirs the leaves around the graveyard, and I close my eyes, letting the cool air brush against my ski
MegraMusic floats in the air, soft and melodious, filling the room with a sense of calm and joy. I take in a deep breath, letting the sound settle into my bones, feeling its soothing rhythm steady my racing heart. It’s been a year—one long, tumultuous year since everything happened with Becca. A year of healing, of working to forget the chaos Nathaniel and I faced. A year of finding peace, of finding ourselves, of watching Nathaniel become the most wonderful father to the most beautiful daughter.I close my eyes for a moment, holding on to the feeling of peace. When I open them again, I’m staring at myself in the mirror. My eyes glisten with tears as I take in my reflection—my wedding gown flowing around me like a cascade of dreams. It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen, pure white and delicate, with lace that trails down to the floor. I feel like a princess, like the heroine of a story I once dreamed about but never thought would come true.“Oh my gosh, Megra, you look amazin
MegraIt's been a few days since the fire, since Becca's death. I should feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, but instead, there's a different heaviness inside me. I can't quite name it—grief, guilt, relief, maybe all of them tangled together. I stand in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. Mia is perched on the vanity, watching me with her bright eyes. I meet her gaze in the mirror, offering a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.I pick up a small powder puff and begin to dab it gently against my cheeks. The cool, smooth texture of the powder calms me slightly, a welcome distraction from the storm of emotions swirling inside me. Nathaniel is home now, his health restored, his body healing. I’m grateful for that. The newspapers have been full of stories about his heroics, praising him for his bravery. The police cleared his name after searching Becca’s apartment. They found her journals, her twisted plans. It’s all out in the open now.
MegraThe world around me is blurry, shifting in and out of focus. I blink slowly, trying to clear my vision. The ceiling above me is white, harshly bright against my eyes. I feel heavy, like I'm sinking into the hospital bed beneath me. My head throbs, my body aches, and every breath feels like it takes more effort than the last. I hear a steady beep—machines. I’m in a hospital.I remember flames, smoke, Becca's twisted smile. My chest tightens as I recall Nathaniel rushing into the fire. "Nathaniel?" I croak out, my voice barely a whisper, dry and cracked. Panic surges through me, tightening my throat. I try to sit up, but my body protests. "Nathaniel?"A familiar voice, gentle and soothing, cuts through the fog of my thoughts. "He’s fine, my darling." I turn my head slowly, and there she is—Liza, standing beside me. Her face is calm, but I can see the worry in her eyes.“Liza…” I manage, my voice weak. “Where is he? I have to see him. I have to know he’s okay.”She steps closer, ta
Megra“Nathaniel!” I scream, my voice tearing through the chaos as he bursts into the living room, Andrew right behind him. Smoke fills the air, thick and suffocating, and for a moment, all I can see are their silhouettes moving through the haze. My heart leaps with desperate, wild hope. They’ve come for me. They’ve come to save me.Becca’s laugh slices through the air, sharp and cold. Her eyes, wild with madness, flick from Nathaniel to me, and her lips curl into a sinister smile. “You see?” she snarls, her voice dripping with venom. “Even now, even in the face of danger, they run to you. Everyone runs to you, like moths to a flame. Well, then, they deserve your fate.”I watch, my breath catching in my throat, as she pulls a lighter from her pocket, the small flame flickering in the dim light. Fear claws at my insides. “Becca, no!” I shout, but she’s not listening. Her eyes are fixed on Nathaniel and Andrew, her hand steady as she holds the lighter.“Get back!” Becca screams, her voi
The Story of Becca Megra’s eyes are wide with fear, her lips trembling as she pleads. Her voice is a desperate whisper, filled with a panic that only fuels my resolve. She looks so small, so helpless, chained and bound. “Please, Becca,” she begs, her voice cracking. “Why are you doing this? Why?” I pause for a moment, staring at her. My eyes bore into hers, searching, dissecting. It’s like I’m looking right into her soul, seeing every little thing she’s ever taken from me, every single moment she’s made me feel small, insignificant, unwanted. I want her to feel that pain now to understand what she’s done. “I don’t think you should die just yet,” I say slowly, letting the words hang in the air, “without knowing the whole story.” I grab a wooden chair from the corner, dragging it across the floor with a slow, deliberate scrape that echoes through the room. I’m savouring the moment, relishing the fear in her eyes. I set the chair down in front of her and sit, crossing my legs calmly,
The Story of Becca.I watch as Megra cautiously approaches the front door of her Stockton home, her eyes darting around as if she knows someone is watching her. She’s always been so paranoid, always looking over her shoulder. But today, her vigilance won’t save her. Today, she’s all mine.From my car parked across the street, I can see her every move. My heart races with excitement, my breath quickening as I prepare for what’s to come. I’ve waited so long for this moment, planning every detail. She has no idea what’s waiting for her. She thinks she’s safe here, in her own home. How wrong she is.I smile, a dark, twisted smile. She deserves what’s coming to her. After everything she’s done, after everything she’s taken from me, she deserves this. I glance at the metal rod on the seat next to me, my fingers itching to grab it and feel its weight in my hand. I can’t wait any longer. I need to do this now.“She made me do it,” I whisper to myself, my voice filled with venom. “She made me k
NathanielI squeeze Anna’s hand, feeling the coldness of her skin against my own. Her eyes are glassy with pain and fear, but there’s a spark of clarity in them. Her usual well-maintained red hair in knots. She’s been through hell, but I need answers. "Anna," I say softly, leaning closer, "do you know where Becca took Megra?"She shakes her head, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "No," she whispers, her voice trembling. "I don’t know where she took her. I… I wish I did."I swallow back the frustration rising in my throat. "How did you find out it was Becca?" I press, hoping she has more information, something that could help us.Anna closes her eyes for a moment, as if gathering her strength. "I started having my suspicions after I saw the newspaper article," she begins slowly. "The one calling you an adulterer. Only you, Megra, and I knew about… about the divorce, about all of it. But I told Becca, I confided in her… Nathaniel, I thought she was my friend, but now I am sure she leak
NathanielI rush through the hospital doors, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I have to find out if what happened to Anna has anything to do with Megra's disappearance. I can't shake the feeling that everything is connected—that Megra is in danger, and time is running out."Andrew!" I shout, scanning the crowded hallway, pushing past people as I move further inside. My voice echoes off the sterile walls, blending with the noise of the busy hospital. I see him standing by the nurse's station, his face pale and tight with worry. When he hears me, he turns, and his eyes widen. He rushes over, and I can see the tension in his every step."What the fuck is going on, Nathaniel?" Andrew demands, grabbing my arm, his grip tight, almost bruising. What the hell is happening?""I don't know," I snap, pulling my arm free, my breath coming in ragged bursts. "But that's what I intend to find out." I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Megra got a phone call," I explain