Story cover for Drowning by Bludaze
Drowning
  • WpView
    Membaca 80
  • WpVote
    Vote 19
  • WpPart
    Bab 6
  • WpHistory
    Durasi 18m
  • WpView
    Membaca 80
  • WpVote
    Vote 19
  • WpPart
    Bab 6
  • WpHistory
    Durasi 18m
Bersambung, Awal publikasi Jun 23, 2016
I watched Jared from across the room staring out the window in thought. 

What would become of us after all of this tragedy. How would we recover from everything we've endured. 

Everything seemed so confusing, nothing seemed clear anymore. 

It seemed that only time would tell what would happened.

But what would he do when he figured out the truth.

* * *

When Sara Haddok commits suicide it raises suspicion in the eyes of her best friend Amara Serrano who was with her in the event of her death. Amara along with a few other people at her school begin to receive anonymous letters about Sara and her secrets along with the possibility that Sara was actually murdered.

Wharfs Point was quite the stranger to death but as Amara begins to uncover secrets about the town and people in her life she begins to question if Wharfs point really is a stranger to death. As Amara begins to dig deeper she gets herself into a series of tricky situations and of course trouble. 

But what is a thriller without a little bit of trouble. Every story has an ending and everyone knows that curiosity killed the cat.

Amazing cover by @aciddaisies_ !
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Killing Is Thrilling

47 bab Lengkap Dewasa

'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.' ...