เข้าสู่ระบบ
Jolene’s POV
It was one of those nights again. I hated it here. “I’ve told you countless times Jolene. I don’t need it.” I stood by the door. Behind me was a bag of groceries I had bought on my way home. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. My voice was a bit shaky from the cold. It had poured this evening. I had no umbrella, all I had was a small white purse which I had placed over my head while I ran under the rain. Rainwater dripped from my hair onto the wooden floor, leaving a trail behind me. My blouse clung uncomfortably to my skin while my shoes squelched with every step. My fingers had gone numb from the cold, making the grocery bag feel twice as heavy. Even now, I couldn’t stop shivering. Not once did she ask if I was cold. “This is not the life I want for you. I don’t want to be part of your madness.” Celine, my mother added. “I’m not doing this for you.” I said. I clenched my fist as I kissed my teeth. “You’re a prostitute Jolene, I don’t want to take part in any proceedings that come with that.” She walked towards the kitchen counter. “You never treated Molly this way, yet she’s the one who abandoned you. She stole my life, but somehow I’m still the daughter you refuse to love. You’re never going to cherish and want me, are you?” I asked. A hot lump formed in my throat. My chest was heavy. My breath turned erratic. I held my gaze firmly to stop the tears that threatened to stream down my face. “I’ve told you times without number never to mention the name of that traitor!” She said in a thunderous voice. A loud thud echoed inside our tiny apartment as she left a punch on the kitchen counter. Every fight somehow found its way back to Molly. Even after two years, my mother couldn’t say her name without looking as though she’d swallowed broken glass. She had raised us alone, identical twins, with no support from anyone, not even her family who had abandoned her because she had us outside wedlock. Everything changed the night I brought John Ferguson home, a wealthy man from Spain. He was the perfect man for me, he ticked all the boxes. He was kind, patient, impossibly handsome, and everything I thought I wanted in a husband. We were in love. Marriage plans were already in place. However, the night before our wedding, my twin sister, Molly took on my identity and eloped with John. Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. We never heard from Molly and John again. With our hope, they disappeared. For a long time I had struggled with who to hate—John, for being oblivious to the fact that the woman he eloped with was an imposter or my very own twin sister that stole my identity. In the long run, I’ve come to despise both of them. They’re both losers. “Keep this.” I said. I walked towards her and placed the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter. “I am all you have now even if you don’t want me.” I walked out on her, headed to my room. I could hear the whimpers that came from the kitchen as I walked away. I slammed the door behind me. I crawled to my bed, collapsed on it. My gaze was fixed on the ceiling that had cobwebs big enough to host a spider kingdom. “I need to get rid of that.” I muttered underneath my breath. I didn’t know when the tears I had held back streamed down my cheeks. It hurts so bad. My heart ached so much. My phone screen lit up which drew my attention. I weakly stretched my hands towards my phone. It was a text message from Madam Veronica. My boss. “I attached an invoice. You owe me 75% of tonight’s earnings. Don’t forget to pay up. Check your email for tomorrow’s schedule, you know how hot-headed Darius can be. Don’t make him wait.” I rolled my eyes at the text message. If I ever made a list of the people I hated most, Madam Veronica would comfortably sit at number three. I was desperate. The job market wasn’t favorable so I had no choice but to join an escort agency. I didn’t read the contract. I had no idea the agency cut from my pay was under the discretion of my boss. 75% off my pay was not livable. I had spent eight months attending to interviews that always ended with polite smiles and empty promises. Rent didn’t care about promises. Hospital bills didn’t either. By the time Madam Veronica offered me work, desperation had already made the decision for me. I wasn’t the only one stuck in this trap. I remember Olivia swearing at the top of her lungs when a huge chunk of her earnings were taken off—over 80%. I was lucky in my misfortune. I could have had it worse. Amidst my thoughts, another text message came in. It was from the hospital. I had taken a pregnancy test two days ago after my night with Darius. We had unprotected sex for the first time. I needed to be sure, so I took the test without his knowledge. I was hesitant. I’ve had enough drama today. I wasn’t ready to figure out what that test result held, at least not tonight.Jolene’s POV"You'll find out." Those words echoed in my head like a ringing bell or an early alarm clock refusing to go off even after taking two, three, or even four knocks. Darius was a man of surprises—always unpredictable. Well, most times, maybe in his narcissistic attitude, but he could be really unpredictable when he wanted to be. And I hated how much I was starting to notice that. The car drove off slowly, the backdrop of the hospital slowly disappearing behind us. I watched it shrink in the rearview mirror until it was nothing but a distant memory. The ride was quiet. Darius sat there, his eyes glued outside as if thinking about something. Something I probably shouldn't have to worry about, but I'm way smarter than that. From the moment he walked into that hospital, proposed, and even when we were trapped in the elevator, I could tell something was going on and he didn't w
Jolene’s POVI had perceived this before. The indistinguishable stench of a hospital. The air smelled aggressively clean—sharp antiseptic and rubbing alcohol burning faintly in my nose, mixed with the sterile scent of latex gloves, plastic, and freshly mopped floors. It was the kind of smell that told you people had suffered here, that lives had been saved and lost within these walls. I laid on one of the hospital beds, my body weak from exhaustion, feeling like I had been run over by a truck and then reverse-parked on for good measure. My limbs felt heavy, like they were filled with sand, and my eyelids struggled to stay open. My eyes slowly opened, taking in the environment around me. The room was dim, the curtains drawn, the only light coming from a small lamp in the corner. Before me was Darius. He had sat by my side, his head resting gently against the bed as if not to wake me. His breathing was slow and steady, his face relaxe
Ludwig Mental Health Facility. Outside these walls existed a taste of normalcy. People walked around going about their day, worrying over one thing or the other, rejoicing over their little wins. Each face had their own story to tell, perhaps their own struggles. But within the walls of the Ludwig Mental Health Facility were people whom society had deemed as broken. The LMH Facility was believed to house people who had lost a chance in life. Being given the opportunity of another chance to go back into society and pursue their dream. Everyone deserves a second chance, don't they? That's what they say, anyway. Society loves that narrative. On this day, Elytra Blackwood paid a surprise visit to this mental health facility to see her son. You see, Chris was different from everyone else in here. Maybe. He was brought in here by his brother Darius after almost killing Jolene and stabbing Ryan. He wanted everything to be done in priva
Jolene’s POVWhat do you do when you're stuck inside an elevator—dark and cold—with a man you've been trying so hard to escape from? There was no place to run or to hide now. You were all alone with this man, in the dark, his hands around your waist, his face inches away from yours, and his warm breath against your skin as you stayed there in the heat of each other. I wanted to push him away, to yell at him to take his hands off me, but something about his touch on my skin sent warmth spreading across my body—and my thighs. Traitorous thighs. I should have been furious. I should have been clawing my way out of his grip. Instead, I was melting like butter on a hot pan. "Are you okay?" Darius asked in a low, seductive tone. In that moment, I had lost all words in my mouth. I let him hold me, touch me, and feel me like I belonged to him. And his voice against my ear was a complementary potion, like the spark before th
Jolene’s POVJust the way he had said it made me boil with anger. "Marry me." Like it was some sort of random recitation, like he didn't understand the weight and responsibility that came with it. Maybe he was joking. Maybe he was playing one of his tricks again. Darius Blackwood, asking me to marry him? How pathetic. The audacity of this man was truly something to behold. I stood there, still in shock, my eyes locked with his. I stared into them, trying to figure out if he was lying. But his eyes—they were cold. Not the eyes of someone who'd be joking around about marriage or a proposal. Why had he asked me to marry him all of a sudden? The thoughts of what had happened these past few days flooded my mind. My abduction. Ryan getting stabbed. My mother being diagnosed with cancer. The irony of it all. Everything left me worked up, I was literally seething with anger. I didn't know when my hand landed on his face—so
Jolene’s POVCancer. I've heard numerous stories about this deadly disease and none of it was good. The way hair falls off one's head, lumps, unusual weight change, and even bleeding. They were like plagues, something I had thought would never happen to me or someone close. But now, my mother laid on a bed inside that room, obviously in pain and suffering from one disease I dread with everything in me. Even worse, now I have chances of also having cancer. The word "hereditary" bounced around my skull like a pinball, hitting every corner of my brain and lighting up every fear I didn't know I had. "Do you mind if we discuss this in the doctor's office? I think you'll need a chair," the nurse said. "What do you mean hereditary?" I asked, totally ignoring her suggestion. I understood what she meant by hereditary—I wasn't stupid—but it felt like my head was lying to me, deceiving me. I needed to hear it from her. I need







