FANGS OF DECEIT (Bounded by Blood and Lies)

Chapter 1: A Decision Made

Anna’s POV

I dragged my weary legs across the hard marble floor, my already trembling hands clutching a bottle of cheap liquor.

The flashing disco lights from the club pierced through my eyes now and then, forcing me to squint and shut them repeatedly.

My eyes, bloodshot from too much drinking, burned beneath the weight of exhaustion. My deep brown hair was a tangled mess. I staggered through the crowded club, shoving aside anyone who stood in my way.

All I wanted was to get out—breathe in some fresh air. The place was packed to suffocation.

“Move!” I snapped, pushing a young woman standing in my path. She shot me a scornful glare as she stumbled to regain her balance.

“Get your drunk self out of here. I’m not the cause of your frustration,” she hissed before walking away.

Drunk self.

Her words echoed in my head like a slap.

How pathetic. That I—Anna Stone—of all people, would be called that.

Once a well-composed woman who never stepped foot in a club, who looked down on people like this. And now? A drunken mess.

A stranger’s disgusted voice had become my reflection.

I wasn’t going to let that slide.

Without thinking, I spun around, eyes searching for her. I caught a glimpse of her outfit and shouted, “Say that one more time and—”

The lights flared again, blinding me mid-sentence.

“Gosh!” I muttered, shielding my eyes with one hand. “Am I your only target?” I grumbled to the lights, rubbing my stinging eyes.

When I looked back up, she was gone.

“Really?” I scoffed. “You’re lucky. You would’ve seen who’s truly pathetic.”

Still mumbling under my breath, I staggered out of the club.

The moment the cool night air hit my face, I let out a shaky breath. Finally—outside.

I wanted to cry. To curse my life, my existence, every miserable thought that ever passed through my mind.

Why was my life such a mess? A constant stream of pain, like a polluted river of misfortune.

I dragged my feet to a long bench beneath a giant tree. Its leaves rustled softly, singing with the wind. A few fell, dancing to the ground.

I leaned back on the bench, letting my tired body sink into its wooden embrace as the breeze swept through my hair.

Raising the bottle, I took a long gulp, only for my throat to burn in protest. I gagged, coughing loudly.

“What else should I expect from a ruined life?” I chuckled bitterly.

I’d come here to drink away the pain—to lose myself in drunken bliss—but instead, the hurt only grew deeper.

They say alcohol brings happiness.

Then why am I still so miserable?

Why does this ache keep drilling into my chest like a curse refusing to let go?

I know I don’t deserve happiness, not really. But don’t I deserve something?

Even just a moment of peace?

Why has my life been filled with misery from the start?

Maybe… maybe I am a curse.

Maybe I was never meant to be here at all.

I felt the tickle of tears escape my eyes—uninvited, unstoppable. One tear followed another, and before I knew it, I was crying like a child. The pain in my heart was too much to bear, and the only escape I had left was to let it pour out through my tears.

My life? It’s been a mess since the day I was born.

According to my father, my mother died giving birth to me. And from that moment, everything went downhill.

Our once-comfortable family life crumbled. We went broke. My siblings, who once attended the best schools in town, had to drop out.

Yes! They blamed me. Even as a six-year-old, I remember it all—being called a curse. The memory is sharp, untouched by time. It still feels like yesterday.

And the final blow? On my 10th birthday, my entire family was murdered.

Why was I spared? My father had sent me down the street to buy balloons for the decorations.

I remember skipping back home, humming my favorite tune. It was my birthday, and I was overjoyed.

But the moment I stepped through the door, everything changed.

Blood.

Bodies.

Silence.

My family’s corpses lay scattered across the floor. Blood soaked the tiles. I stood frozen in horror. I’d never seen a dead body before—and now, the first I ever saw was my own family.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. My small hands trembled, the balloons slipping from my grasp and landing silently among the gore.

And then I heard a voice.

“Who are you?”

It was deep—gravely and cold. The kind of voice that could crack thunder.

I turned and saw a massive man, his clothes drenched in blood, a knife glinting in his hand.

Even a fool would know—he was the killer.

I was small, helpless, but rage flared in me. I lunged at him, my ocean-blue eyes filled with fury.

“Why?” I was finally able to cry, hitting his thick legs with my tiny fists.

“Why did you kill them? Why did you take my family?”

He said nothing—just shoved me aside.

“Do you want to join them?” he growled, crouching to my level.

I stared at him, my lips trembling.

“What’s the point of living? You already took everything from me. Just kill me too.”

I lifted my chest, inviting the blade.

But he didn’t stab me.

He shoved me away and walked out the door.

“Lunatic,” he muttered before disappearing into the air.

I snapped back to reality with a sniffle, realizing the liquor bottle in my hand was empty.

What am I even doing here, drinking myself into stupor?

Because the one person who made life seems worth living… married someone else this morning.

Yeah. Pathetic.

Worse? He didn’t just break up with me.

He sent me a text—cold and heartless. “Move on with your pathetic life. I’m tired of carrying your problems like I’m your father. Go ask your dead family to help you. Since you came into my life, it’s been nothing but chaos.”

He used my pain and secret against me. The very things I trusted him with. The things I had never told anyone.

And if that wasn’t enough…

He sent me his wedding photos.

Pictures of him kissing her.

Touching her, and more worst. Photo of him sexing her.

Am I not pathetic?

He was right.

I’m useless. A burden. A curse.

Everyone who tries to help me ends up broken.

I’m destruction—living, breathing destruction.

So maybe it’s better this way.

Maybe I should just end it.

Die.

And stop dragging everyone down with me.

Someone like me doesn’t deserve to live.

The world will be better off without me.

Without a second thought, I staggered toward the roadside.

There was a bridge not too far off—just high enough.

It didn’t take long.

Soon, I was standing at the edge.

And for some reason… I smiled.

A strange, inexplicable smile. Maybe relief?

I took in the world one last time.

Then I jumped—ready to go meet my family again.