Death By Talons: Did An Owl 'Murder' Kathleen Peterson?

My husband, Gabriel Buckner, and I had been married for three years. I'd gotten pregnant twice, but I'd lost both babies. It was all because of my in-laws' parrot that could talk. The first time I got pregnant and went to their house, the parrot stared at my belly and kept repeating, "Get rid of the baby! Get rid of the baby!" The second time, the same thing happened. It looked right at my stomach and said the same words. I thought it was just nonsense, but to my shock, my in-laws actually took the parrot seriously and forced me to end the pregnancy. I even showed them the prenatal checkup report from my doctor to prove that the baby was perfectly healthy and begged them not to do it. But they dragged me to the hospital anyway and made me have an abortion on the spot. When I got pregnant a third time, I wanted to be extra cautious. I went straight for an amniocentesis. The report confirmed the baby was healthy and even showed a 99.9% DNA match with Gabriel's. I thought everything would be fine this time. But as soon as the parrot saw me again, it repeated the same words—"Get rid of the baby." And just like before, the Buckners immediately tried to drag me to the hospital. I couldn't understand it. The baby was perfectly healthy, and the DNA report proved it was Gabriel's child. So why would they rather believe a parrot and insist that I get rid of the baby?

“Should I just burn this house down with them?” I mumbled, watching my boyfriend getting fucked. The shrill ring of my phone shattered the moment as they sprang apart, their eyes widening at the sight of me. “Shit” I cursed, “hold on” I smiled at them, picking up the call “hello! Not a good day to you. I’m at priest Paul’s house whoever you may be, please let me call you back” I rushed, ending the call without waiting for a reply. “W what are you doing here? How?” I gesture towards the opened door, “you should have made sure the door was looked before… you know, all this. Fathers. It was quite pathetic to watch two old priests groan horribly, especially with no popcorn for me to crunch.” I forced a smile on. “But I’m sorry for bursting in unannounced though, so you should continue. Keep it going zaddy, I mean b!tches. Don’t stop” I winked, walking towards the door. Amelia walked in on her boyfriend getting fucked and instead of karma to have them stricken, it decides to play a game on her instead. “How the hell am I supposed to save a tyrant as a owl? Can’t I at-least be a Tyrannosaurus?”

When the power meter in the house trips, Mom's foster daughter, Juniper Hawthorne, is trapped in the dark for five minutes. Even though I have claustrophobia, Mom locks me in an empty, pitch-black room. "You knew Juniper was terrified of the dark, yet you intentionally shut off the power just to frighten her! I'll teach you how to behave today!" I cry and beg her not to, but all I receive in return is a harsh slap. "Claustrophobia? That's just what happens when a kid grows up too spoiled." Late that night, I sense someone breaking into the house. The first thing I do is to call Mom, a renowned criminal psychologist, for help, only to be yelled at. "You're still really getting into this role just to fight Juniper for attention, aren't you? "Kidnappers, huh? Well, go ahead and die so you'll stop bothering me!" As she wishes, I'm brutally tortured and killed. My body is buried beneath Mom's favorite flowerbed. After I die, my soul is trapped in the body of a cat. All I can do is helplessly circle Mom until five days have passed. The police arrive with a mangled body and request her help in creating a portrait of the killer.

I was the broke scholarship kid, stuck sharing a room with Sherry, the spoiled heiress. From day one, she was all fake smiles and "let's be besties." She'd take me out for fancy meals. She even introduced me to Kenneth—her rich childhood buddy. It was fine—until Kenneth and I started dating. That's when the claws came out. One day, she "accidentally" dumped hot soup all over herself and claimed I'd done it on purpose. Then she demanded I pay her back. I gave her every cent I had, but it wasn't enough. Next, she accused me of stealing her wallet. The school bought it. I got written up, everyone turned on me, and Kenneth? He dumped me with, "You're just an ugly duckling trying to be a swan." I couldn't fight back. Humiliated, alone, and dragged through online hate, I dropped out. Then I let the river take me. And then—I woke up. Back to the moment Sherry introduced me to Kenneth.

My mother-in-law was being held hostage when Henry, my wife Claire's male assistant, fired a modified compound bow, sending an arrow straight through her head. She died instantly. Instead of panicking, he pulled out his phone and posted a TikTok. “Oops! I accidentally killed the hostage, but at least I stopped the kidnapping! I’m still the hero!” I completely lost it and called the police, making sure he was arrested. However, when my wife finally rushed home from overseas, she stood in front of my mother-in-law’s coffin and stabbed me to death. “Henry may have shot the wrong person, but he was trying to save a life! If he hadn’t put your mom out of her misery, those kidnappers would’ve tortured her to death! Instead of thanking him, you had him arrested. You deserve to die right alongside him!” Only then did I realize the horrifying truth. Claire believed all along that the woman her assistant killed was my mother! When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day her assistant shot my mother-in-law.

Five years after my death, my ex-husband, Adrian Shaw, came home with his childhood sweetheart, Hannah Reed, on his arm. They were preparing for a new mating ceremony. His only wish before the ceremony was to find me and make me pay for severing our mate bond and betraying him all those years ago. To force me to show myself, he destroyed my family's company, drove my father out of his mind, and burned down the home we had once shared. What he did not know was that I was already dead. Five years earlier, desperate to pay for the treatment he needed after a car accident badly injured his inner wolf, I signed up as a test subject at an underground clinic. It was an illegal clinic that used live subjects to test experimental silver-derived compounds and wolfsbane antidotes. I died in its basement. Later, my grandmother, who had dementia, ran into Adrian in the neighborhood. My grandmother's face lit up with joy. "Adrian, you're back? Grace has missed you so much. Come with me. I'll take you to see Grace."