My Death Was Just The Start

Roble

. My legs felt like jelly, but I stood on my own. I would not l

, let's talk outside. Please." His voice held a hint of th

ce a symbol of future happiness, now felt like a tomb. I walked into the room where Dexter and Barbara had been. Th

cheap necklace I' d given Barbara for her birthday. A crumpled p

y, you know, as practice for your wedding night!" I had laughed, naive and trusting. I had seen the name of the hotel on Dexter

them. I was so desperate for love, for a family, I blinded myself. I pressed my nails

ed them, Dexter and Barbara, who now stood side-by

lla, I'm... I'm so sorry." Her voice was sm

ith a broken girl? For trying to fix her?" He looked at me, his eyes devoid of warmth. "You wanted to k

'charity phase.' Said it would ma

tranger who pulled me from the brink. Barbara, the compassionate friend who helped me navigate my trauma. They were my savi

not acts of kindness. They were carefully crafted scenes in their "savior game." I had poured my heart out, shared my deepest fears, my rawest

a tiny place with him, believing we were building a future. I had defended Barbara against gos

es arranged our marriage. We needed something... real. You were real. Your trauma was real. It made us feel virtuous. Like we were making a differen

don't need your blood money," I spat, my voice shaking with rage. "

l, Ella. We gave you three years of a comfortable life. We help

paraded your 'goodness' while crushing my soul. You used m

sive stepfather. Your depression. Your vulnerability. We kept your secrets." She smiled, a

. Blackmail. They w

aps enjoying it. "All the details. The venue. The dress. It was a lot of effort for us to pretend, you k

humorless sound. My eyes burned. "You disgust me. You

thought was pure. I ripped it off. It burned my skin. I threw it at Dexter. It clattered to