Is 'I Read The News Today, Oh Boy' Based On A True Story?

I watched Ryan die. So how is Ben wearing his face? Six years ago, I watched my best friend--and secret crush--splatter all over the pavement. He died. I saw him. Yet, in the back of my mind, I've never stopped looking for him. Seeing him in crowds, in the classroom, in my dreams--and my nightmares. It's cost me everything--my identity, my sanity, and maybe my life. So when I walk into class to see a man who looks exactly like Ryan standing before me, I freak out again. My therapist tells me to stay away from Ben. He's no good for me. I'll end up back in a padded room. But I have to know the truth. Is Ben really Ryan? That's not possible. But Ben has scars--real ones and metaphorical ones. If Ben is Ryan, why doesn't he just tell me? Is he trying to drive me crazy? Or worse--is he trying to kill me? The Boy Who Died is the first romantic suspense novel from bestselling romantacy author Bella Moondragon writing as B. Moon. If you love romantic suspense, are a fan of Colleen Hoover, Gillian Flynn, Christopher Greyson, or Paula Hawkins, you won't want to miss this page-turner!

“Let him go right now.” Wait a second, did he just call me him? And then it hit again! Over here, I am a HE, not a SHE. Idris, not Irish. Before you roll your eyes and use the F words, this is my story, not yours. They said when life throws you lemons, you make lemonade, but I made a whole juice. Being in this college with not just a different name, but a different sex, is chaos on its own, one I’m fully embarked on. “Desperate times require drastic decisions.” I took those words way too seriously. How I plan to survive this journey is totally up to me. Will I be caught? That’s up to you to find out.

I had always been obedient. Whatever people told me to do, I did. On the day the king and queen brought me back to the palace, my adopted brother leaned close and sneered, "How did it feel to spend three months as a gutter rat? If you have any sense, roll even farther away this time." I nodded, turned, and ran straight toward the edge of a towering cliff. My father and mother were terrified. They barely managed to drag me back, their faces drained of color. When my elder sister saw it, she grabbed my collar and said coldly, "Attention-seeking trash. If being crown prince embarrasses you this much, you might as well die." I said nothing. I grabbed a vial of poison and poured it down my throat. Blood burst from my mouth and nose. My sister froze on the spot, then scrambled out to call the physicians, looking at me like I was a monster. Not long after that, my adopted brother pretended to fall ill, and my sister held a knife to my throat, forcing me to donate blood for him. Before she could finish speaking, I followed the force of her blade and cut my own throat. The moment my parents pushed open the door, blood sprayed across their faces. The room went silent for one stunned instant before screams exploded everywhere. Amid the chaos, I weakly raised my head and looked at the transparent panel floating in the air. The number on it flickered again and again before stopping at 99. They did not know that as long as I obeyed one final time, I could complete the entire storyline for a cannon fodder character in a tragic novel. Then I could leave this world forever and return to my real home.

In my third year working overseas as a war correspondent, a grenade blast left me wounded and stripped me of my memories. The PTSD that followed was severe enough to keep me in a psychiatric hospital for two years. It wasn't until two months ago that I finally remembered who I was. The day I came home, my best friend and my husband met me at the airport, both of them crying harder than I was. Russell Ellison's eyes were red-rimmed, but his voice was as gentle as ever. "The new place is all set up. Move in for now. I'll come keep you company after work." I went back to our old house instead. The moment I pushed the door open, I saw a wedding photo hanging on the wall. The bride in it wasn't me. It was my best friend. A key turned in the lock outside. The man who was supposed to be buried in work at the office walked in, fingers laced with hers. A child was tucked against his chest, calling him "Daddy" in a small, unsteady voice. I stood frozen, too stunned to breathe. We'd only been apart for two years. So how was their child already three?

On the first day of work, the company president said that I looked like his long-lost daughter and gave me a salary of 100 thousand dollars, on the condition that I ate together with his wife every weekend. Once my boyfriend heard this, he yelled at me in front of my colleagues, “How could you believe such a cheap lie?! It’s just an excuse for him to pay you for dirty favors! If your mother learned that you got yourself a sugar daddy after graduation, she’d jump off a building!” So, I rejected the president’s offer. Someone told the department manager that my boyfriend and I insulted the president, and he fired us. My boyfriend was really shocked by this. He stayed at my place and loafed around instead of working. When he no longer had any money left, he asked my mother for money. After that, he asked me to sell my organs. After I said no, he knocked me out with chloroform and sent me to an unlicensed clinic. The doctor there did not use the standard procedures, so I died from the pain. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day I met the president. This time, I shouted, “Sir, you look just like my father, even though we are not related at all!”

Death is like a rain you cannot stop. Are you bound to be saved? Or bound to die? I saw you die.