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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación mié, nov 11, 2020
It was never supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to die that night, it was me that needed to die, but I'm a coward. I'm too scared of death that I let my best friend die, and now I'm covering up her murder. What's gotten into me! -------------------------- Jenelle has never been the "perfect princess" that everyone in Seattle sees her as. She's made mistakes, mistakes that shouldn't have been made. Mistakes like killing her best friend. Well, she didn't kill her best friend, someone else did, but she was the one that needed to die. And because of that, she's forced into covering up the murder and moving on with her life. Unfortunately, the guilt is eating her alive, causing her to spiral downwards into a rabbit hole of addiction. Will Jenelle be able to fess up before it's too late, or will she stay forever silent and let this killer get away?
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'The night was alive with silence. I moved through it like a shadow, black leather gloves tight on my hands, boots soft against the grass. My gas mask hid my face, leaving only darkness where my eyes should be. The world narrowed to a single point: the house ahead. Tonight, it would belong to me. The farmhouse rose stark and white beneath the moonlight, silent except for the occasional grunt of a pig or the low hum of a cow. They were unaware. They were insignificant. I crouched behind the hedge, eyes scanning, senses alert. Every detail mattered: the flicker of light across the curtains, the faint rustle of movement inside, the way a shadow shifted across the floor. She was there. Oblivious. Popcorn in hand, murmuring to herself as the television flickered. Every motion was a note in tonight's symphony, and I was the conductor. I studied her, cataloging. Timing. Patterns. Fear. She didn't notice me yet, and that was perfect. Patience was everything. One sound, one misstep, and it could all unravel. I rang the doorbell once. Silence. Again. Still nothing. She flinched slightly, just enough to make my pulse quicken. Her small reaction was delicious. A sudden movement in the yard caught my eye-a neighbor's dog barking at some unseen intruder. Its voice was loud, startling, but contained. I froze. My breath slowed. Patience. Observation. The dog's curiosity would pass. I remained still, hidden in shadow, letting the moment stretch. The animal lost interest and padded away. Perfect. I moved to the back of the house, hammer in hand.' ...

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