𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗚𝗘 |JK| |ff|

☆ 1 ☆

Y/N's POV

The sound of the ceiling fan grows louder. It creaks with every turn, as if the ceiling might give way and crash down on me any second. My arm sticks to the bed, damp with sweat. I clench my fists and grip the duvet tighter, trying to calm my breath. But it just gets heavier ... like the air itself is closing in on me.

I open my eyes, forcing them wide despite the sting of tears. My cheeks are wet. The old tear tracks mix into my skin, warm and swollen.

I whimper. It feels like I'm dying. Maybe it would've been better if I had. Before they caught me.

But... why? I didn't do anything wrong.
or At least .... I don't think I did.

The memories flash behind my eyelids like a horror movie stuck on repeat. It's only been a few hours since everything changed, but it feels like a lifetime. I don't know how my life turned into this ... into a story I don't recognize.

It's all shattered now.
But I have to live. I don't know how, but I do.

The smell of blood is still on my hands.
Hot. Thick. Real.
I swallow hard. It only makes the fear worse.

I've lost count of how many times I've woken up like this ... chest tight, throat dry, heart racing. Eventually, I sit up and reach for the water bottle beside my bed. The clock reads 3:00 a.m.
Last time I checked, it was 2:40.

Desperate for sleep, but I know I won't get any.

Not after what happened.
Not after what I did.
How can I sleep in this bed like everything is fine?

I killed him.
I killed him.
(Did I?)
...Yes. I did.

FLASHBACK — Y/N's 21st Birthday

The party was extravagant. Everything was bathed in elegance, laughter bouncing off the walls of the grand auditorium. Most of the luxury cars that had lined the front entrance were gone by now..

A sleek black Rolls-Royce rolled in .. drawing every remaining eye toward it.

Y/N's POV

I walked down the hallway, scanning the crowd for Appa. Then I saw the car. Glossy black. Familiar.

Yeah, I knew whose that was.
He owned too many Rolls-Royces, BMW, Lamborghini ..etc to count ... but I could always tell when it was him.

My father was already outside, greeting him with a handshake, gesturing toward the entrance.

I knew he was coming.
And honestly... I like him. He is the one who helped us when no one else did. He iss kind, respectful ... 

I rushed over, my heels clicking against the marble floor. He looked up the moment he saw me whic where we shared a smile  and then into a warm hug.

...

Don't leave ... the story's just getting started. Support me by dropping a comment and let me know you're reading...
Your encouragement gives me the strength to write more.

silent readers..you may proceed... haha.. i appreciate you 

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