Mag-log inThe mind of protagonist Zea, a woman consumed by a burning desire for revenge against the President of the United States. The reason? Zea's father was executed on orders from the President after he was found guilty of attempting to assassinate him and killing the president's daughter, Mia. Fueled by anger and a deep sense of injustice, Zea spends 15 years meticulously planning her revenge, studying every detail of the President's security and devising a plan to kill him. But as Zea gets closer to her target, she begins to question whether her actions will actually bring her the closure she seeks or simply perpetuate a cycle of violence.
view moreMoi, c’est Mira… Je suis fille unique , et je vis dans un petit appartement parisien avec ma mère, j’ai bientôt 20 ans, et ma vie ressemble à celle de n’importe quelle étudiante en psychologie :
— Des montagnes de livres à étudier. — Des examens à répétition. — Et un rythme de travail infernal et acharné. J’adore ce que je fais, mais le soucis, c’est que je n’ai plus de temps pour respirer, je n’ai plus une seule seconde pour moi, alors , il y a des jours où j’ai l’impression que tout est un peu trop lourd pour mes épaules. L’université est loin de la tranquillité que j’aurais souhaitée, surtout en ce moment, mes examens approchent à grands pas et je me sens noyée sous les révisions. J’ai même parfois l’impression de suffoquer, les journées semblent toutes se ressembler, et chaque nuit, je suis réveillée par mes propres angoisses, par mes propres peurs, et je crois , que je n’ai jamais eu autant besoin de calme, de silence, de nature, et de quelque chose qui puisse me permettre de souffler , mais aussi de me reposer et de me retrouver. Alors , c’est là que cette idée m’est venue : Mes grands-parents vivent sur une île, loin de tout, dans un petit village isolé, à l’écart du monde. L’île « d’Eyden-Stood ». Un lieu que je connais depuis ma petite enfance, même si je n’y ai pas remis les pieds depuis plus de six ans, la dernière fois, je devais avoir 13 ans, et il ne me reste que deux très rares souvenirs de cette époque, mais aujourd’hui, je me dis que c’est exactement ce dont j’ai besoin pour me ressourcer. L’idée d’un lieu sans distractions, sans réseaux sociaux, sans la pression incessante des notifications, mais aussi des cours et des révisions, cette simple idée m’apaise déjà. Clairement , je n’ai jamais été à l’aise dans les grandes villes, et après tout, un peu de calme loin de tout ça ne me fera pas de mal. Bien au contraire… Mais cette île… C’est un endroit que je ne connaît pas vraiment, et en dehors de ses habitants très peu la connaissent aussi, mes grands-parents disent que l’accès y est très difficile, que seuls les locaux connaissent les véritables chemins pour pouvoir y accéder facilement. C’est une île presque coupée du reste du monde, sans route directe depuis le continent, le seul moyen de s’y rendre, c’est un petit bateau qui part une fois par semaine d’un petit port du pays voisin, et à chaque fois que je mentionne que je suis née là-bas, on me regarde comme si je parlais d’un autre monde. « L’île d’Eyden-Stood, c’est où ? » J’y ai le droit à chaque fois, et je suis alors obligée d’expliquer, comme d’une vieille histoire : un petit coin perdu sur la carte, au large, que très peu de gens connaissent. Un endroit où la mer est aussi belle que sauvage, un endroit où le temps semble se perdre. La réserve naturelle qui couvre une grande partie de l’île est immense et protégée par des gardes forestiers, elle sert à préserver un écosystème unique, mais aussi magnifique et très rare. Elle abrite aussi des meutes de loups , dites de sang pur, vivant tous dans les forêts denses et sauvages, ce sont les descendant directs des « Carnius-Lycantropius », qui est une ancienne race de loup entièrement décimé, les spécimens de cette réserve sont d’ailleurs les derniers de cette espèce. Là-bas… La végétation est luxuriante et les plages magnifiques, bordées de sables fins, c’est une terre vierge, presque caché des yeux du monde, qui a été protégée depuis des générations et des générations par les locaux qui y vivent en parfaite harmonie. Ce n’est pas un endroit que les touristes connaissent bien, et même les rares personnes qui y viennent ont toujours une certaine appréhension en arrivant sur les lieux. Un peu comme moi, je ne sais pas si tout a changé là-bas, ou bien , si tout est resté intacte. Tout ce que je sais, c’est que je vais bientôt retrouver mes grands-parents, et que je vais aussi pouvoir me ressourcer dans cet endroit tranquille, loin de tout, avant de plonger à nouveau dans le chaos de ma vie d’étudiante. Le départ se rapproche…. Je termine mes révisions, mes valises sont prêtes. Une semaine loin de tout, loin de la civilisation, une semaine dans cet endroit oublié du monde, mais aussi une semaine qui va me changer à jamais, et qui va me faire douter de la réalité elle-même .Aron's Point of View.Corridors seem to buzz with activity as constantly as I wander through the White House; there is no waste of time, and everything must be done with a sense of commitment. Every step somehow resonant with the floors, and while the orderliness is palpable, I know the storm rages inside of me, or maybe it has always been there since I was chosen to become the chief of staff of the President but also a man straddling between responsibilities and scepticism. It is early morning, and the sun streams through the windows in the West Wing; the luxury of the Oval Office envelopes me as I enter. Facing away from the President, the First Lady scowls at him as he leans at the Resolute Desk, which also looks anxious and tired. “Aron, come in,” the President says, waving me to sit on the chair opposite her. His tone is instead composed, but I can feel the growing tension. "What do we have?" I sit across from him, and my thoughts are torn in different directions. I pause fo
The climate in the room rises as hours count down to a critical moment of our assignment. Moving around the ill-organized table covered in maps and papers, the team gathers, standing in the midst of the preparations. Jake is looking straight at me, and although it is only for a few seconds, I can discern a shyness that does not often show itself. “How do you even manage it, Zea?” Jake’s voice is soft, his face intense. This is the question that was raised by the character: ’’Can I have fife being a mother and a killer at once?’’ I keep the mask of tolerance and resolve, and looking at him, I feel drained but decisively steady. “It’s give and take, really,” I say calmly. However, my voice has a tinge of sadness. There is a constant oscillation between duty and love; every decision is a burden, and every choice is a revolution that echoes throughout one’s life. Jake nods again, they stare at each other for a moment as if to finally register what has been said. ‘This is the story o
The morning sun shone warmly through the windows, painting the room with a gentle golden hue. Aron sat at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee as he engaged in lighthearted banter with our child. The sounds of laughter and the clinking of utensils filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to the start of the day."Come on, kiddo, finish your breakfast," Aron encouraged, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "We don't want to be late for school."Our child giggled, taking another bite of cereal before setting the spoon down with a satisfied sigh. "Done!"Aron grinned, ruffling our child's hair affectionately. "Good job. Now, let's grab your backpack and get going."As they prepared to leave, I stepped into the kitchen, a soft smile gracing my lips. Aron's presence had always brought a sense of stability to our lives, a steady anchor amidst the chaos surrounding us."Morning, you two," I greeted, my voice infused with warmth."Morning, Mom!" our child said, excitement dancing in their eye
Sitting at the kitchen table, I absentmindedly traced the grain of the wood with my fingertips, my gaze fixed on Aron. He was deep in conversation with our child, guiding him through math problems. His smile seemed strained, his eyes distant – a telltale sign that something was awry. A gnawing unease settled in my chest, refusing to be ignored."Is everything okay, Aron?" The question slipped out, tinged with concern that I couldn't quite conceal. His gaze met mine, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he masked it with a reassuring smile."Yeah, just a long day at work. Nothing to worry about," he replied, his tone steady but his eyes betraying a hint of hesitation.I nodded, trying to quell the unease that had taken root within me. It could be exhaustion, stress, or any number of reasons. But a voice inside me insisted that I delve deeper.I excused myself from the table, feigning the need to check on the simmering pot on the stove. As I stood before the furnace, my heart
As I drove aimlessly through the winding roads, lost in the labyrinth of my thoughts, I never expected to find myself here. It was a place that held so much meaning, yet belonged to a different time, a different version of my life. The house, once familiar and comforting, now stood in the hands of s
"I want to be a part of it, to help you bring about the change we've always dreamed of."As my mother and I sat in the bustling café, the weight of our shared purpose settled, intertwining our destinies in a web of determination and resilience. The revelation of her support brought relief, knowing I
As I observe Aaron from a distance, a flicker of concern lingers. His late nights at the desk, his altered behaviour, the evasive answers—I can't ignore the changes that have taken hold of him. Though I have my plan in motion, one that he remains oblivious to, I can't help but wonder if his recent a
Aron... I sat nervously in Lynn's office, my hands tightly gripping the edge of the chair. Lynn, the head of security and a close friend to President Johnson looked at me with concern and curiosity. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I would reveal. "Lynn, I don't even know where to begi
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