Black And Mild Freak Novels & Stories

The apartment that I bought four years ago isn't renovated or lived in at all. Yet, I suddenly receive messages on unpaid water and electricity bills. Puzzled by the sudden barrage of messages, I return to that particular apartment to check things out. That's when I realize that a stranger has been living in my apartment this whole time!

My sister-in-law is eight months pregnant. One day, she gets pushed to the ground and starts bleeding heavily. She's then taken to the hospital right away. As I drive by, I quickly roll up the window and pretend not to notice. I step on the accelerator and speed away. In my past life, though, things were different. The moment I saw her collapse, I sprang into action and took her to the hospital without delay. She was in critical condition. After the heavy bleeding, she developed amniotic fluid embolism. My husband was the city's top obstetrician. Thus, I called him urgently, pleading for him to come straight to the hospital. However, he accused me of jealousy. He was having dinner with his first love's family, after all. He claimed that I was exploiting my sister-in-law's accident to force him to come back. By the time my in-laws arrived, my sister-in-law had already succumbed to the amniotic fluid embolism. Her family blamed me for her death, convinced I had stirred trouble with my husband and brought about her demise. Having just returned from out of town, my brother-in-law believed their accusations without question. Overcome with grief, he stabbed me to death at the funeral. Opening my eyes again, I realize I've been transported back to the very day my sister-in-law is knocked down.

Right after I am done with a meeting, I scroll through social media and come across a warning post with my company's location tagged. The title reads, "Avoid this place! Anyone who comes here is a sucker. The company is so stingy that it can't even provide decent snacks." The photos show the Starbucks drinks and five-star desserts I just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frown and tag everyone in the group chat, asking for suggestions about the teatime snacks. A Gen Z intern, Alice Grimes, immediately sends a voice message, "No offense, Ms. Knox, but these mass-produced desserts are full of trans fats. Even dogs wouldn't eat them. A good company would hire Kitchelin chefs to cook on-site. Now that's called having true respect for employees." I laugh in disbelief. My company spends 50 dollars per person on daily tea time, which is considered top-tier in the industry. So, I reply, "Since it's hard to please everyone, we'll cancel teatime from now on and convert it into a cash allowance for everyone." Less than five minutes later, there is a new update in the social media post. "Guys, you won't believe this. I made a reasonable suggestion, and the petty boss just cut our teatime perk! This is how a typical capitalist behaves. They can't handle any honest feedback."

"I always thought I had found the perf 'Once she gives birth, I’ll divorce her.' 'When I have sex with her, I cover her head with a pillow because the other side of the pillow has your picture It turns out, I was just surrogate tool, and all his affection was fake. So, I When I started a new life, Gu Songqian came knocking on my door: 'Actually, I love both of you equally. From now on, you’ll live on the west side, and she’ll live on the east side, and you won’t disturb each other.'"

I was four months pregnant when I discovered that my husband had fallen for our young family helper. He dropped to his knees and started slapping himself repeatedly with such force that blood rolled down from the corner of his mouth. He sobbed, swearing it was just a drunken mistake, swearing to me he'd never see her again. Thinking of the baby growing inside me, my heart softened, and I tore the divorce papers. The day I went into labor, I suffered serious complications. The baby was stillborn, and the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. He didn't even get the chance to cry. I was drowning in grief, but then my husband walked into the delivery room holding the family helper's baby in his arms. "Don't be sad, Kelda. She's willing to let you raise her child." My anger ran so deep that I bit my lip until it bled. It was all my fault! I had been treating him too well all these years. He had completely forgotten what I, Kelda Shaw, was really capable of.

My husband's protégé boasted she could disarm bombs blindfolded, relying on her so-called intuition. Her reckless misjudgment triggered a bomb's secondary detonation sequence, endangering an entire building. I intervened, using the dangerous liquid nitrogen condensation method to save the day. As a result, Rita Smith was removed from frontline duties and placed under investigation. Patrick Munoz tried to defend her, but I stopped him cold. "If you back her now, you won't just fail to save her. You'll be dragged down with her." Crushed by the pressure, Rita staged an accident that killed her, leaving a letter blaming him for abandoning her in her hour of need. He said nothing, only preserving her letter in his study. Years later, he became a nationally renowned bomb disposal expert. During a terrorist attack, I was strapped to a timed explosive. He arrived to defuse it but repeated Rita's fatal mistake. As the timer ticked down, he gave a bitter laugh. "Rita was just nervous back then. If I'd supported her, she'd be a hero today." The bomb detonated, leaving nothing of me behind. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the point when he tried to defend Rita. He didn't know that the building housed the nation's top-secret core server.

I was in a car accident while saving my brothers. However, instead of gratitude, they urged the doctors to amputate my legs. "Carol, we're sorry," they said through tears. "We're useless… but don't worry. Even if we have to sell our blood or our kidneys, we'll make sure you're taken care of." Right after surgery, they abandoned me in a shabby apartment. Blood seeped through the sheets as they looked at me with teary eyes—then left in a hurry, claiming they needed to earn money for my treatment. I did not want to drag them down anymore. Enduring the pain, I crawled to the rooftop of a tall building, planning to end my life. That's when I saw it—inside a luxury hotel, a grand celebration was taking place. My brothers were there doting on another girl. She was eating an extravagant cake I had never even dreamed of, wearing a designer princess gown worth a fortune, sparkling with jewels. Everyone called her the Smith family's one and only princess. They had even hired a world-class symphony orchestra to play Happy Birthday just for her. While I lay bleeding in a dingy apartment, they would not spend a few dollars on bandages for me. I watched as my eldest brother gently fed her cake, his eyes full of tenderness. "Jasmine, only you deserve to be our one and only little sister." The second brother placed a tiara on her head with care. "Even for the smallest birthday, we won't let you suffer a single moment of disappointment." The third knelt to help her into a pair of crystal shoes. "Jasmine, you're our most precious darling." Then, standing on the stage, Jasmine held up the black credit card they had gifted her and smiled sweetly. "Brothers," she said, "Carol lost her legs saving you. Maybe you should go see how she's doing?" My eldest brother let out a mocking laugh. "She's not worth it. Now that she's crippled, she'll never be able to compete with you again. She got what she deserved."

My roommate branded herself as an influencer against beauty standards, vowing to free girls from appearance anxiety. Strangely, whenever she stayed up late partying and broke out in pimples, they would appear on my face instead. When she fooled around and caught an infection, the rashes spread across my body. The more radiant she became, the more monstrous I looked. People recoiled from me. Friends cut me off. My own boyfriend, before a crowd, told me I should just die. Then my roommate got pregnant, yet it was my stomach that swelled like I was eight months along, scarred with terrifying stretch marks. She, meanwhile, looked more flawless than ever, appearing barefaced on camera to encourage girls not to fear their looks. I knew something was not right. When I tried to dig for answers, my roommate and boyfriend trapped me in a basement. They tortured me until I died. Only then did I learn the truth. He owned a cursed amulet that shifted all her pain onto me. The moment I opened my eyes, I was back on our first day of college together. This time, the game is mine. I'll make sure they pay.

I suffered from a skin condition. I scratched myself in the library, and millions of netizens spammed my private inbox. Only then did I find out that a girl accused me of harassing her. I took out my diagnostic report to defend my innocence, but the girl cried pitifully. “You really know how to make an excuse for yourself! How could someone innocent like me frame you?” Even my elder brother spoke up for her! “Why would she frame you of all people? Can’t you take a look at yourself?” I could not bear the cyberbullying, and I died from a sudden heart attack the day before the court hearing. My grandfather could not accept my death, and he collapsed into a coma. My parents cut off ties with my brother before they committed suicide at home. Meanwhile, the girl did not just successfully make her way into graduate school, but she also dug open my grave and used my ashes to make fireworks. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when she had asked me to reserve a seat in the library.

I send my sister, Lola Graham, to my couture boutique to pick out a wedding dress. As she is leaving, a trainee clerk, Kayla Larson, demands three million for the gown. Helpless, Lola says my name. "I'm the owner's sister. I don't have to pay." Kayla rolls her eyes. "You're pranking the wrong store. Our boss doesn't have a sister. You're just broke and trying to scam us!" she snapped, blocking my sister's way. "This is your last warning—either pay up, or I'll rip that dress off you and throw you out!" Stunned, Lola calls me. When I rush over, I hear my long-time store manager standing deferentially behind Kayla, warning Lola, "You'd better behave. The woman in front of you is our boss' wife. Cross her, and you'll regret it." "Trying to fake your way in here? You've got some nerve," Kayla sneers, adding to my sister's humiliation. My hand freezes on the door. Without hesitation, I cut off my husband's secondary credit card and call him. "Have I been too generous with you? Or did giving you too much money make you think you could afford another woman behind my back?"