What Is The True Story Behind Party Monster?

I had a best friend who was sweet as honey but only with her mouth. Behind my back, she was a demon. She stole my boyfriend, the underboss of the Chicago Outfit. Her excuse? She wanted to keep me away from the darkness and the blood, so she'd take the suffering in my place. She pawned her wedding ring and fed her husband some story about a limited edition bag for me. She skimmed from her husband's company accounts and pinned it on my male escort habit. She was pregnant and still wanted thrills. So she went to a full-blown orgy with her husband's uncle and a group of his associates. That's how she ended up hemorrhaging. But somehow it was my fault. I was the one who organized that kind of party, according to her. And her story? She tried to stop me, so I pushed her down and made her lose the baby. In the end, her husband sent me to a cartel hellhole in Mexico to atone for my sins. There, her lover sold me to the red-light district. First came the addiction. Then the streets. I served every man in their outfit, one after another. My body rotted. I died slow, sick, and alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night my best friend miscarried because of her own filthy party.

When I was seven, my constant vomiting got so bad that my mother took me to court and accused me of being born dangerous. If the charge stuck, I would be stripped of my family ties and sent straight to prison. Everyone said my mother was overreacting. "He's just a kid. Kids get sick. As his mother, you should be more understanding." But the moment the evidence was shown, the room went dead quiet. My mother had drunk herself into a stomach bleed just to land a contract, and the second she got home, I threw up all over it. The deal was voided, and she lost her job on the spot. On my sister, Ophelia Sowle's, birthday, I threw up all over her cake right in front of all her classmates. After that, she was shunned by everyone at school. She spiraled into depression and even slashed her wrists. It didn't matter where I was, at the dinner table or under the covers. I could start vomiting at any moment. My mother and Ophelia had to clean me up more than 30 times a day. It wore them down to the breaking point. What infuriated them the most was that every time I finished throwing up, I would look at them and laugh, as if I was mocking them. The judge brought the gavel down and declared me guilty of being born bad. Ophelia's eyes turned red as she cried, saying she couldn't bear to lose me. I didn't cry or fight it. I accepted the verdict. But I requested that the judge watch my memories first. The judge looked stunned. "Memory extraction means drilling into your brain. The pain is unbearable. Are you sure?" I nodded without hesitation. But Ophelia suddenly panicked. "I don't agree!"

A string of sexual assault cases sweeps through Fenborough, and all the evidence points toward me. In just a single night, I've become the prime suspect and target of everyone's anger. The moment I get home, my wife, Natalie Parker, glares at me with hatred and disgust. "A monster like you doesn't deserve to be called a human!" As she rages at me, she dumps a bottle of sulfuric acid on my crotch. The agonizing pain makes me collapse onto the floor, unable to move. The next day, she brings another man to the house—Harvey Green. He looks down at me and says, "So you're nothing but a scumbag. No wonder she detests you so much." Natalie also eyes me coldly, her words cutting as she says, "Why would I keep a tainted piece of trash like you around? Just the sight of you disgusts me." I refuse to believe that I would ever commit such a crime, so I secretly arrange for a DNA test—but the results prove that my DNA is a match with the culprit's. My blood runs cold. A wave of despair washes over me. Once Natalie sees the results, she brings the victims to the house. They charge at me, smashing glass bottles against my head and breaking my legs with bats. When my parents rush over and see this, they faint on the spot. I end up dying on the operating table. Suddenly, my eyes open again. I've been reborn. I've returned to the day the crimes took place.

It’s all fun and games until a body washes up…. Beth Monroe just wants to make it through the summer baseball season without being the constant target of her brother Shane’s jokes, but he is relentless, and she’s ready to lock herself in her room and hide. Until the new girl shows up. Halley appears in small town Barryville like a ghost. No one knows where she came from or anything about her past, not even her last name. When she gives Beth a piece of unsolicited advice that, “It’s what’s on the outside that counts,” Beth changes everything about herself. By the time Beth realizes she’s becoming a monster, it might be too late, and Halley has already sunk her claws into Beth’s best friend Ryan—who might’ve been something more if Beth had opened her eyes a little earlier. As Halley’s past catches up to her, Beth realizes there’s more to this mysterious girl than she realized. Can she stop Halley from revealing her true, monstrous nature to Ryan before it’s too late?

My boyfriend and his godsister were caught by the vice squad at a scandalous party. When I went to the police station to bail him out, he was disheveled, his exposed skin marked with dried candle wax and whiplash scars. His godsister, Sonia, clung to him, sobbing into his arms. “The light in Sonia’s house was broken. It was too dark, so I went to accompany her,” he said. I couldn’t help but wonder, Did he accompany her all the way to the police station too? In the past, I would’ve demanded an explanation, but I was too tired now—too drained to argue. Without a word, I signed the papers. The vice squad officer looked at me and asked, “Are you Anthony Leeman’s family?” I shook my head. “No, I’m not familiar with him. Just a colleague.” Lowering my gaze, I typed out a message to my father: [I agree to get married. Give me three days, and I’ll marry him.]

"Hey, beautiful." I turned around slowly to see a guy approaching me from the party. "I'm not interested." "But, I am." He cackled. "Well, that's too bad, huh?" I laughed, leaning against the wall as my vision cleared a bit. "Shut up." "And why should she listen to you?" That's when I noticed Tyson leaning against the refrigerator with his arms crossed over his chest. "And who might you be?" The guy turned to face Tyson instead of me. "Her boyfriend?" "No, but I'm the guy who just fucked your mom, and she said I should tell you how much she enjoyed it since your father can't compare." "You're a dead man walking, punk!" The guy charged at Tyson. And next thing I knew, Tyson was pulling the guy up from the floor by his shirt and shoving him towards the exit, effortlessly. I smirked. ☆☆☆☆ Ashley, the daughter of a millionaire, moves to a new city and hopes for a fresh start. With her sharp wit, she often finds herself at the center of school drama, not by choice, but by circumstances. Intent on maintaining a low profile at her new campus, her plan quickly falls apart when she mistakenly parks her bike in a reserved spot. Tyson, the school's notorious bad boy, is not just a troublemaker, but he's the youngest gang leader to be a part of a powerful mafia, feared by many but understood by few. Despite his fearsome reputation in the streets while other leaders might see him as a mere boy, Tyson is fiercely loyal to his inner circle, showing a side of him that few ever see. What will happen when their paths cross? ☆☆☆☆ "𝑫𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎." ☆☆☆☆