บททั้งหมดของ ECHOES OF TRUTH: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Police Station, K Division, Ontario, Canada. Agent Foster -Shit! Shit! Shit! - I hit the wall with all my pent-up rage and frustration. I couldn't believe it; I couldn't believe this shit. -Can someone explain to me how this happened? The four agents only shared a glance without saying anything, so my gaze fell on Officer Ferguson who, although he had a broken nose with a bandage over it, looked calm, chewing gum. I eliminated the formalities and spoke to him directly, "Logan, what the hell happened?" He shrugged, "Boss, I did warn you about Mason, didn’t I?" Agent Miller ran his hand over his face. We never had any reason or evidence to suspect him. He had a confirmed alibi for the night of the murder. What were we supposed to do? Logan leaned back in his chair, "They should have trusted me." She gave him an incredulous look, "How can you be so calm?" Miller rolled his eyes, "Did you really just ask him that?" I sighed, "Can someone tell me how a killer was right under our

Survive... What would you do to survive? I had underestimated what I would do to survive. I think we all have at some point. But the moment your life is at stake, your whole body is on alert, and your survival instinct kicks in, you become a different person, maybe not a person you would recognize. And it didn't always mean becoming more violent or aggressive; you just had to use whatever you could and what was best for the situation. In my case, it was pretending and gaining Mason's trust until I found an opportunity to escape. So I did my best to survive: pretending I wasn't repulsed as I kissed Mason. His lips were soft, and under different circumstances, I might have enjoyed kissing him, but definitely not in this situation. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to forget everything that had happened. Everything he had done. I relaxed my tense muscles. He had to feel me relax, like he actually enjoyed it. I couldn't deny that Mason knew what he was doing, his mouth moving

Chained...That's how I felt, and I wasn't just referring to the chain around my ankle but also to the feeling of being psychologically trapped.I was sitting on the bed, my feet dangling, the chain rubbing against the floor, making a slight noise. I didn't know how many days had passed; I had realized that there was no point in counting them. I only knew that with the passage of time, the helplessness and sadness had given way to a feeling that had overwhelmed me many times after the murder of my family: numbness. I couldn't feel anything, no matter how hard I tried. What was the point of feeling if I couldn't change anything? If I couldn't do anything about it?The routine had been the same every day: get up, shower, have breakfast with Mason, walk with him, come back for lunch and watch some TV, have dinner, and sleep together.The first night, I couldn't sleep a single second with him next to me, even though he kept his distance, but as the days went by, I got used to it. Fortunat

Six months ago. Mason Stevens Her tears... That was the first thing that caught my attention, not her outfit, nor the way her blonde hair fell rebelliously on the sides of her face. She was pretty, but she was not my type—too perfect for my taste. Well, not so perfect; she had just left crying from the office of the most renowned psychiatrist in this place, so consumed in her tears that she didn't even notice me sitting on the stairs. She passed me by as if I were invisible, and maybe, in her little world, I was. Bored, I got up and decided to follow her out. The winter cold greeted me relentlessly, so I just stuck my hands in my coat, sucking on the mint candy I had taken from the receptionist, Bella, who, despite being in her 30s, looked 50. Don't get me wrong, she was nothing special, but I was bored, and I wasn't in the mood for another session with my psychiatrist. He had been interesting at first, but the moment I was able to easily manipulate him, he lost all my attention

She lived in the happy bubble while I was drowning in pain and darkness. The Red Princess. Warning: Violence. In the presence of these strangers, my mother decided to speak up. "Who are you?" My mother's voice trembled; she barely breathed so her neck wouldn't touch the knife at her throat. When she identified Adam, the rage in her eyes was clear. "Oh, you! I knew you were a bad influence." My father clenched his jaw, looking me in the eyes. "You got help for this, how? Do you fuck them too, bitch?" He could barely finish his sentence. The masked man with the gun hit him with the back of the gun, knocking him down. He climbed on top of him to hit him again and again until my father's face became a mess of blood and small cuts. I could only watch, satisfaction warming my chest. "Hey," the guy who had my mother called him. "Bastard, that's enough." Adam stepped forward. "He’s right, stop." Why didn't they say their names? It was as if they didn't want me to know their