Killing is currency

Killing is currency

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"Have you ever wondered what would've happened if the Great Depression never ended? Like, if the whole country just stayed broke, hungry, and desperate forever? No bounce-back. No recovery. Just a slow, starving crawl into madness. Well, here's how it'd go down: First? Population control. People would look around and realize there's too many mouths and not enough scraps. The weak, the sick, the useless-they'd vanish. Quiet at first. Then not so quiet. Next, they'd need caretakers, people to 'handle' the dying, the sick, the unwanted. That's where the first dirty jobs come from-nurses, grave diggers, body cleaners. All of them paid in scraps, favors, maybe meat. Then, like any good American tragedy, someone smells money. Business starts booming. Suddenly, there are storefronts selling 'mercy,' vendors offering 'clean deaths,' back alley surgeons trading limbs for rations. And then the government steps in-not to stop it. To organize it. They call it structure. You call it survival. And then comes the killing. Murder becomes a service. Death becomes a transaction. And the worst part? People get used to it. Welcome to a country where murder is currency and cannibalism is common sense. The American Dream didn't die. It just got hungry
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corruption
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Disclaimer: This novel involves abuse, sexual abuse and suicide. A destiny I never chose. A life I never wanted. A heart I swore never to give again. Death should have been my release. Instead, I awoke in another world... in another body... in another life. It should have been a second chance. But scars don't fade just because the skin is new. The memories still haunt me, silent shadows that twist my every thought, every fear, every breath. I care for no one. I trust nothing. I wish only for an end... yet something, some cruel, invisible force always pulls me back from the edge. I am a pawn dressed in silk and gold, forced into a game I never agreed to play. But even in a heart frozen by trauma, the warmth of life begins to seep in. Slowly, I begin to feel again. To breathe again. To hope. Then fate strikes once more. Another decision, made without me. Another future, sealed by hands not my own. And I realize... I may have escaped death, but not destiny. In a world of monsters, thrones and betrayal, can a shattered soul carve her own fate or will the past always bind her to a future she never wanted?

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