The killer of her best friend wants her. What happens when the lines between hatred and desire begin to blur?
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╰┈⫸ 𝑺 𝒀 𝑵 𝑶 𝑷 𝑺 𝑰 𝑺:
𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢'𝐬 life takes a harrowing turn on her best friend's wedding day whe...
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When I returned home, it was my Aunt who greeted me with her cold glare. Fearing she would notice my ringless finger, I quickly hid my hand behind my back, clearing my throat before I slowly made my way to my room.
"Where were you?" But Aunt stopped me from doing so. I halted my steps and then turned to face her, wetting my lips before I decided to open my mouth. "I... I went to meet Demetrius. He wanted to meet me." The blatant lie slipped from my tongue before I could stop the words. Somehow, it was my nervousness that helped me with it.
Had anyone ever found out I just proudly broke off my engagement with my fiancé with no shame, my Aunt would possibly burn me alive.
And after last night's incident, I dreaded her. I don't know why.
She eyed me with suspense, as if in thought if she should trust my words or not. My throat began to dry up as she kept and kept watching me.
No... She doesn't know.
Don't worry, it's alright.
Then, to my fortune, she finally turned around and left my sight. I sighed out the breath I was holding in, closing my eyes in relief. Then I turned on my heels again, this time deciding to leave for Ana's room.
As I stopped before her door, I gave a slight knock on it before turning the knob. "I'm coming in, Ana." Hearing no response from her in return, I got inside, only to find my cousin curled up on her bed, her face buried in the waves of her long, wavy hair.
"Ana?"
I called out to her again and her head snapped up immediately, red, swollen eyes locked with mine, turning me still.
Mortification gripped my insides like vices as I rushed to her side, not even bothering to lock her door.
Now her mom was selling her off, she wouldn't even care to peek through her daughter's room to see if the girl was alright. As long as she doesn't die, she can be forgotten.
I hugged her close to my embrace, my hands turning cold in fear.
Ana, my dearest cousin, did shed tears frequently. But she never cried enough for her eyes to turn swollen or red. Because the last time she did was when she was ten and cut her knees because of falling on the ground while running, her mom slapped her hard on the cheek and demanded her to never cry like a 'disgusting thing' again.
