[Story status- Completed]
"You have always been the joker of this gamble of lives my dear, and now is the time to use our Ace."
✴✴✴✴✴✴✴
To the world, she is an angel fallen from hell, but for him, she is a doll made of glass, and he is scared that...
Once you play god, they're gonna crumble one by one. Then we gon' ride right into the sun. Like it's the day my kingdom come. Bebe we are gods. -NewJeans
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C A D E
"I love you," she said and stabbed me.
I knew she loved me, but why the heck she stabbed me? Oh shit! Blood.
That's when I heard gunfires and held the bloody knife in my hand. This girl, she planned to kill me.
I had always doubted my girlfriend's mental health. Now I knew I should have taken her to a psychiatrist earlier.
My vision blurred, and I clutched at the wound, hoping to stem the flow, but my trembling hands were slick with blood. Each breath I took was a struggle.
My body became numb, and all I could hear were voices. I tried to move, but it was not helping either.
Someone yelled my name again. Before closing my eyes, I saw some figures around me. Wait! Is that Vivene, and my father.
"Lock this girl in jail," a voice grumbled.
"Psychopath," another voice hissed.
I didn't know how he found me, but seeing him was a relief. He is my father, after all. A little girl ran towards me, not Vivene or Liliath; she was someone I had never met before.
Her small hand gently brushed around my wound, and for a while, the pain drifted away before I heard her speak.
"Wake up, Prince Charming."
And then I fainted.
"Oh, shut up! You were almost dead," stormed my father.
Here we go again, with our father and son old conflict. His eyes filled with anger and disappointment.
Since the second my eyes opened, instead of providing me first aid, this man roared upon me, counting every mistake I had ever made since childhood, including living with my psycho girlfriend.
Not to doubt from where I got my anger issues and temper. I had always been a bad son to him, only to him. From the day we both lost the important woman of our life, our son-father relation got more messed up.
My mother, he never told me what happened to her. He lost her. And I had no regret to leave my father.
The reason for me being a spoiled child is to not have someone when I really need them.
"You never cared about me then, what matters if I die?" I was not going anywhere without an argument.
"I do, son, really do," he whispered more to himself but enough for me to hear.
"Then tell me where mom is." I raged and stood from my place, my wound started bleeding again.
