His Prophecy, Her Shattered Spirit

lia

to a painful consciousness. My head throbbed, a dull ache that resonated with every beat of my heart. My left arm

y, her voice filled with a professional gentleness. "Take it easy. You have several laceratio

have survived Blake's latest act of cruelt

were brought in after an incident at your residence. Allegedly

low and empty. "I have no family." Blake was the only family I had left, and he was the o

lone with the ghosts of my past. Blake's callous words, the guru's twisted prophecies, Chyna's triumphant sneer-they all swirled

ook of concern plastered on her face. She rushed to my bedside, her voice a theatrical whisper. "Amelia! Oh

erformance. "Disoriented?" I replied, my voice

ing of negative energy from the house. He said your distress was simply a manifestation of your own inner turmoi

enched. "He

y on my bandaged side. A sharp, excruciating pain shot through

away with feigned horror. "I forgot where you were hurt! I'

now what you are. And I know what you did." My voice was a low growl, laced with a venom I didn't know I possessed. "And I

lever girl." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low, taunting whisper. "Yes, it was. And it worked perfectly, didn't it? J

came back to. The one he confided in. The one he truly loved." She leaned closer, her breath smelling faintly of sweet perfume, a stark contra

miscarriages. The nights Blake had been "working late," or "meditating with the guru." He had bee

up, fueled by a surge of pure, unadulterated rage, and connected with

lip. Just then, the door burst open. Blake stood there, his eyes

What have you done?" He cradled Chyna's face, his

ever had. But I had something that could prove it. My hand fumbled beneath my pill

aining strength. "I have proof. Everything she just sa

nic crossing her face. Her carefully construc

nothing left, no family, no children, no garden. But I had this. Th

towards me, his eyes now fixed on my phone. Just as he lunged, Chyna ga