𝐋𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈

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Chapter Eighty-Two:
𝐈𝐧 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

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❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥. 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞.

─────𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫






















A/N: i hate this chapter, it makes me feel like,
well i'll explain more at the end, just know i hate it




Accalia hated her life.

Okay, she always hates her life. This was for a completely different reason. Her head was pounding, eyes hurt, Dorcas was yelling. It was too fucking early for her to be yelling. It didn't help that the voices were back, laughing at her. What did she ever do to them?

"Shut. The. Hell. Up." Accalia told Dorcas sharply, putting the pillow over her head. The ghost just laughed, she could see her evil smirk even without seeing her.

"Psycho Lia hungover?"

"Oh god. Don't call me that."

"Psycho Lia upset?"

"Piss off."

Never had Accalia been happier that her curtains were spelled so no sound could get out. They would assume she was crazier then she was. She wasn't talking to herself, she was talking to a ghost.

See, makes sense.

"C'mon, kid," Dorcas ignored Accalia and hit her leg but it just made Accalia shiver. She lifted the pillow and her head to glare at Dorcas.

"What have I told you about doing that! It's cold and weird."

"Then get up, lazy fuck."

"I hate you so much," Accalia grumbled, reluctantly sitting up. She put her fingers to temple and groaned. "Bloody Merlin's balls."

"Yeah, hangovers are a bitch," Dorcas pursed her lips. "I definitely do not miss that."

"Hangover?" Accalia looked at Dorcas as she opened her curtains. "No, the dead people whispering are back."

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞¹                -𝖍. 𝖕𝖔𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗Where stories live. Discover now