บททั้งหมดของ Love Me Then Destroy Me: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

Point of View: LanaThat afternoon, I didn't plan to go outside.The thought came to me quietly and completely, without the nervous tremor that usually came with breaking the rules. It didn't feel like rebellion; it felt like something that had to happen. It was as if my body had already made up its mind and my mind was just being told after the fact.The house had become too quiet.Adrian was back in the study, the door half closed. You couldn't hear his voice, but you could feel him in the walls. I had figured out how to read his silences. There was something going on that we couldn't see when he went away. Not for me.I slowly and carefully put on my shoes, giving myself time to let the decision sink in. There was fear, but it was quieter now. More sharp. Fear that had learned to be patient.The front door opened without any problems.The light outside in the afternoon was weak and unsure, hovering between warmth and retreat. The air smelled like dust, leaves, and something that sm

Lana's Point of ViewLong after the house had gone quiet, I sat on the edge of the bed. Adrian had gone to his study, where the only sounds were the soft hum of the security system and the distant ticking of the clock. I held the journal in my hands like a lifeline. The leather cover was soft and familiar, as if it had always known how heavy I was. I traced the edges with my fingers and took a slow breath to calm the storm inside me.It felt like the pen was heavy. At first, words wouldn't come. I looked at the blank page, and it looked back at me, accusing me of not being good enough and being scared. And I was. Scared. Afraid of a truth I couldn't put into words yet. I felt a little shaky in my hand as I put the pen tip on the page.I took my time writing the first sentence. I'm scared. It's easy. Bare. Weak. The letters curved under my hand, not straight, but real. I stopped and listened to my own breathing and the quiet rhythm of the house, which had its own secrets. Every word fe

Lana's Point of ViewI first saw it when I was going through the calendar in the study. I ran my hand over the dates, almost without thinking, until it caught on a blank space of seven days. Seven days with nothing to do. No notes, no appointments, no reminders, nothing. I frowned and brought the calendar closer. The edges of the page were clean and neat, and the writing was all the same. But this week, just this one week, was completely missing.When I sat down in the chair, the leather creaked under me. My fingers drummed on the desk, and my heart raced for no apparent reason. There was something wrong with the blankness, like the calendar was trying to keep something from me. My stomach turned. My chest got tight. I could feel it; my body was reacting before I could even name the fear.I took a deep breath and tried to relax by paying attention to how the page felt and the faint smell of paper and ink. But the feeling only got stronger, a low, persistent hum that went from my stoma

POV: LanaThe house was quiet, but it was a quiet that pressed against my ears, amplified each sound until it became unbearable. I moved slowly through the hallway, barefoot, feeling the polished wood cool under my toes. I didn’t know why I walked this way, as if the silence itself could protect me from the past, as if by moving carefully I could prevent memories from surfacing. But the urge was instinctive, body-driven, and I followed it like a moth to a dim, flickering light.I reached the bathroom without realizing it, drawn to the mirror even though I feared what I might see. The door was half open, and I could see the faint reflection of myself before the memory struck. It was sudden, violent, involuntary. A flash, a moment of clarity, and the scent of iron filled my imagination. My chest constricted, my knees weakened. In the sink, I imagined blood, bright and shocking, running over porcelain. The color was real in my mind, but the sink was empty. I blinked, shaking, my body re

POV: LanaIt was hidden away in a folder on the small device that Adrian never thought I would touch. The file didn't have a name; it was just a string of numbers that might not have meant anything to anyone else. But I knew this was mine, just like a body knows when it's hot or cold. My hands shook as I hit play. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear the sound or if I could handle the memory of talking to someone who was supposed to keep me safe but had kept me in the dark.My voice came. At first, I didn't know what it was—firm, clear, and sure. The tone was steady, like it didn't care. I heard the words come together, and my own words told me to be careful, but who? And why was Adrian's name there, soft and careful, like a secret that had been passed down through the years?I stopped it and played it again. There was no doubt that the voice was mine. I could hear the slight tremor of fear and the careful accuracy I had used to encode the message. I had known something, something that c