Sibyl’s POV
Am I dead?
I'm not sure. I feel as if I'm floating on an endless sea. It was dark, no lighthouse, no stars. I can't shout, I can't move.
The memory slowly came back to me. I thought of my wedding, my aunt, my brother and my husband.
I looked down at my hands. They were clean, but I still felt blood on them.
I thrust the dagger into my husband's chest.
My head began to hurt and I became very dizzy. A voice in my head screamed angrily: "He's your husband. Why did you do that? He loves you. He did so much for you. But you hurt him! You bad woman!"
"No! Don't say anymore!" I cried, clutching my ears and crouching on the ground in pain.
"Sis," a voice came to my ear.
"Sis," the voice sounded familiar.
"Doyle, is that you?" I stood up, turned around, and saw no one.
"Sis, don't cry." Doyle's voice sounded happy, as if he had never experienced any trouble.
"Where are you? Doyle, I miss you. Please let me see your face." My voice was pleading, broken.
