Better Off Dead Book Novels & Stories

Only the mess and my battered body remained. As I curled on the icy floor, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Sofia. "Ella, see that? Vincenzo believes me in the end. So what if I lost the baby? I still have him and the entire Camorra family behind me. And you? You're nothing but a cast-off no one wants. A bitch like you deserves to die!" I picked up the phone and typed three words. "As you wish." The moment it was sent, I deleted all our chats and that number I'd had for eight years.

Then she walked up to me, viciously grinding her foot into my wound, using my blood as ink to press down her handprint. After finishing all this, she revealed a cruel smile. "Let him go," she ordered the security guards before saying to me, "John, you know? Your look of despair was just like your mother's before she died. On the day I went to court to declare you dead, I deliberately delivered the good news to your mother. Who would have thought that she'd be so frail? She passed away due to a heart attack." Nora did not have an ounce of pity on her face, only provocation.

I didn't know how much time passed before my body started feeling lighter. When I opened my eyes, I was floating above everything. Had I escaped? Then I looked down. My body was still on the firewood pile. Bruised all over. Neck bent wrong. Head hanging limp like a broken doll. Good news—I'd escaped that village. Bad news—I was already dead. When I got home, Mom was knitting on the couch. Dad stood by the window, anxious. "It's getting late. Why isn't Kaia home yet? What did she say when she called?"

It's fucking sinister that freaked me out! Later on, I found myself inside a military vehicle. The current situation made my eyes lose their color. It turned into a void as my beats ironically became a dead beat. Lifeless, even. I stared at these soldiers blankly. I am not dumb not to condemn those people they're shooting. But unfortunately, the qualm inside my head will remain hanging. What makes those people became...undead?

“Death would be better.” “Yours or the people that did this to you?”

They carefully pile up some fingers to send to the gambling dens until Mick growls, signaling everyone to back off. I wasn’t sure how the bastard was still alive, his heart was barely recognizable. Mick trots to him, staring down into his bleak eyes. He’s on his back now, his guts exposed. A quick swipe across his face with a claw draws blood, coating Mick’s paw. I had no idea what I thought I’d feel at this moment. But I just feel dead. Because there are so many more Stephen Millers in the world. It’ll never be enough. Mick growls so loud, it practically shakes the room. He bares his canines, wanting them to be the last thing this piece of shit sees.

“No one dies fast, pal. Not in this world. You’ll die slowly, begging for it to end.” He gasped, his chest heaving up and down. But he didn’t fight. I stepped back, brushing down my sleeves. “You have a choice,” I continued, my voice steady again. "Disappear forever. Stay silent. Or be pulled so deep into this world that death is the only escape.” His adam's apple bobbed, his eyes flickering to the door, then back to me. He understood now. There was no escape. I rifled in my coat and withdrew a sealed folder, and tossed it on the table between us.

Whatever unease she had earlier is already fading, replaced by something much more like her. “So,” she starts, nudging my arm lightly like she does when she wants my attention, “I started this new book last night.” I glance at her, catching the small excitement in her expression, then go back to stretching my arm across my chest. “It’s about zombies,” she continues, her voice picking up. “Like actual dead people walking around and eating others. It’s kind of disgusting, but also really good.” “And there is this guy,” she goes on, lowering her voice just a little like she is letting me in on something important. “He is technically dead, but not fully gone. Like he still thinks and talks and…

) I delete it without reading it twice. Eighty-seven days left to live. At least now I know exactly what I'm working with. And honestly? I'd rather die honest than live on pretty lies.

“Until then, really, I do suggest you rest.” “I’ll… consider it…” I relented a little. Dr. Patel sighed and turned for the door. “Save me from stubborn patients and their caregivers,” he muttered under his breath as he left. When he was gone, Rowena turned to me, eyes sharp, not loopy at all. “So?” “So…?” I echoed. “We do have two dead bodies in the bookstore. I don’t know how long that lie’s going to hold. Plus it’s not as though you’re an actual registered human being. Do you even have a birth certificate?” Rowena asked.