The emptiness of my days engulfed me like an endless, pitch-black night. Here! I was trapped in the dark corner of my own home, hiding my existence while the outside world continued without me.
These tattered clothes clung to my body, stained with marks of disgrace that could never be erased.
My hair was a tangled mess, my body sticky and filthy. But who cared? What was the point of cleaning myself? No soap could wash away the rough touches that had tainted my skin.
Nurse Lina had tried offering antibiotics, but they only piled up untouched in the corner of this room. For what? No medicine could ever restore the wholeness of my being, which had been shattered by the cruelty of this world.
There was no pill that could heal the gaping wounds in my heart. Nothing could bring back the trust that had vanished, nor erase the memories of that barbaric night that destroyed my soul.
Now, it was just me, the darkness, and the shadows of loneliness haunting me at every moment.
My empty gaze was fixed on the dusty floor. Time felt frozen. Days and nights came and went, but I didn't care.
Only silence existed here, and I chose to drown in it. Maybe if I stayed still enough, remained invisible enough, the world would forget I ever existed. And I would forget that I had ever lived.
But then, I reconsidered. Why wait for that to happen? I had to end it all. Now. I couldn't remain still and sink any deeper into my own destruction.
Finally… my legs moved, realizing I still had just enough strength to walk. From this lightless corner of the room, I rose and walked.
Without a sound, I stepped forward slowly, like a shadow. Only the faint jingling of the chain on my small sling bag accompanied me. The bag felt heavy, just as it had since I left that hotel room.
I headed to the kitchen. The place where my mother and I used to spend so much time together before she fell ill. My tears broke free once more. Through the haze of my blurred vision, I could almost see my mother's figure lingering in this space. The aroma of pastry filled the air, a light dusting of flour scattered on the edge of the table.
I remembered—the last time I was here, I had been baking a cake to bring to the hospital before heading to school.
I inhaled deeply. No! I couldn't keep living like this. These memories were daggers stabbing into my heart.
Then, my mind painted a new image. A visual so clear that my eyes instinctively followed it. A kitchen knife! That was what I needed. Sharp as a dagger. I was certain—if I used it on my wrist, it wouldn't hurt nearly as much as the blade that had already pierced my heart.
I grabbed the kitchen knife, removed its sheath, and pressed it against my wrist. I pushed down as hard as I could, but my hand trembled too much. Was it because I was a coward? Or simply too weak after days without eating?
I was sure the blade had cut through my epidermis because a crimson flow immediately surfaced. No! This wasn't enough! I had to try harder.
But before I could press down further, the silence between me and the knife was shattered. A knock on the front door echoed through the house.
I lifted my head, my focus shifting from my wrist. My eyes squinted at the light seeping through the curtains. The knock was followed by a voice—one I knew all too well. A voice I once admired but now made my blood boil.
Mrs. Marni.
"Laura? Are you inside?" Her voice was gentle, as always. But I knew what lurked behind that tone. "You haven't been to school for days."
I placed the knife down and stepped out of the kitchen, halting before the door that separated us. It felt like there was a thousand-mile distance between us, yet her voice slipped through so easily, forcing me to listen.
"I know you're angry," she continued, her tone pleading this time. "But please believe me, everything was for your own good. We only wanted to help."
Help? Ha! Help destroy my life, more like it.
I scoffed, a sound almost like a bitter laugh. Anger flared in my chest, ripping apart the last remnants of dignity that still wanted to trust in people.
I reached for my sling bag, my hands shaking with uncontainable rage. I wanted to hurl it at the door, as if that could silence her. But as I lifted the bag—
Plop! Something fell.
I looked down. A brown envelope lay open, its contents spilled across the floor. The sunlight creeping through the window highlighted what was inside: a thick wad of cash, so many bills that I froze in place.
I picked up the envelope, staring at it in confusion before the bitter reality hit me.
"So this… this is the payment?" My voice trembled with disbelief. "This is what they think my body is worth?"
My fingers brushed over the money, but not from fear. Not from sadness. No, this time, something different stirred inside me. Something dark, cold, and thick coursed through my veins.
Outside, I could faintly hear Mrs. Marni's footsteps retreating. Since I hadn't responded, she must have given up.
A chuckle escaped my lips. It started small, but it grew louder, filling the empty space. I knew—I must have gone mad. But who cared? The world had already killed Laura that night. Laura should have been dead.
I stood up, gripping the envelope tightly. "Thank you, Mrs. Marni," I whispered, though she would never hear me.
I returned to the kitchen, but this time, with newfound energy.
I had to kill Laura!
I sheathed the knife and returned it to its place.
I walked to the sink and splashed cold water onto my face. But strangely, the water didn't just cleanse me—it awakened something inside me. A smile spread across my wet face, a smile so unfamiliar that even I didn't recognize it.
"Yes, Laura is dead," I whispered to the reflection in the old mirror. "Now, call me Abby."
I would live again. But not as the weak, naive girl who could be broken in a single night. I would live as something else. Something that would make every person who touched my life pay the price—a price far greater than the money in that envelope.
.
.
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In the silent car parked in the basement of the hotel, the atmosphere was thick with tension.
Calvin gently held Laura's wrist, his fingers tracing over the faint scar that had fully healed but left a delicate mark on her pale, flawless skin.
A mark that—though small—spoke volumes about the despair and battle that had taken place there.
Calvin lowered his gaze, his eyes dark with restrained anger. Not at Laura, but at the world that had forced her to endure such pain.
"I swear, Laura… From this night on, you'll never be alone again. I'll always be here, your shield, no matter what…"
He could only whisper that vow in his heart.
When he looked up, his gaze locked onto Laura's eyes. There was darkness hidden within them, but also a flickering fire that he couldn't ignore.
His brows furrowed, his mind itching with a question he couldn't hold back any longer.
"Then tell me… how did you end up at my hotel room door tonight, Laura?" His tone was calm yet firm, filled with curiosity. "Judging by the way you tried to drug my drink, I doubt this is your first time."
Laura didn't answer right away. A slow smirk curled on her lips—confident and enigmatic.
"Do you really want to know, Mr. Calvin?" She tilted her head slightly, like an actress reveling in the spotlight. "Then prepare yourself for the rest of the story."
She took a deep breath, her eyes gleaming with a secret yet to be revealed.
"I'll tell you how I began living two lives. Abby by day… and Laura by night."
Her voice was almost a whisper, but every word rang clear in Calvin's ears.
His chest tightened with intrigue, but he remained silent, letting Laura take control of the night.
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(To be continued)