Adopted by beyonce

Chapter 19: Repeated Cycle (Updated)

⚠️Trigger warning ⚠️
This chapter talks about murder and sexual assault which may be triggering to some readers. READER DISCRETION ADVISED!!!

**Neveah's POV:**

Today, I decided to keep my outfit simple yet stylish. I slipped into my faded denim shirt, paired it with my purple jeans, and finished the look with my blue, white, and purple Jordans—my favorite "grapes." It was a practical choice for the day ahead. I had a difficult task: visiting my mom's house with the intent to confront Chris. My mom expected us to make amends, but I had no intention of forgiving him.

**At Mom's House**

As I entered the house, I felt a surge of emotions—anger, frustration, and a bit of fear. "Hey, Mom. Chris," I greeted tersely, trying to keep my composure.

My mom, Beyonce, sensing the tension, decided to give us space. "I'll leave you two alone," she said, her voice tinged with concern as she exited the room.

Chris wasted no time. "Why do you hate me, huh?" he demanded, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and something darker.

I could barely contain my rage. "Because you're a psychopath! If you wanted to use my mom as a punching bag, why the hell didn't you purchase her? She isn't your slave, okay? And if you think I'm going to let you off like this, you're totally wrong."

He chuckled, a sound that sent chills down my spine. "Ha, you're funny. Why didn't you just finish the job while you could?"

Confused and angry, I asked, "What job?"

He leaned in close, his breath hot on my face. "Killing yourself. Why couldn't you kill yourself?" His words were venomous, pushing me against the wall. I felt trapped, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted, panic rising in my voice.

Chris sneered. "You don't want to do something you'll regret," he taunted, his lips brushing my neck.

I shuddered, feeling disgusted and helpless. "I won't regret anything. I just want you to leave me alone," I insisted, my voice wavering but determined.

He ignored my plea, his hands roaming with sinister intent. "Now let me take off your—" He didn't get to finish. Instinctively, I grabbed the knife that was meant to threaten me.

In a moment of sheer desperation and terror, I thrust it forward. The blade sank into his side, and his eyes widened in shock. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to be a murderer. Panic took over, and I made a split-second decision. I turned the knife towards myself, ready to end it all, to escape the horror of what I had just done.