Countdown To Nothingness

I had been married to James Tennant for seven years. In that time, he had already kept twenty-nine mistresses, like pretty little canaries in gilded cages. Now, I saw the thirtieth one in our bedroom, young and draped in nothing but a bath towel, lounging across our bed. I turned to him and asked coldly, “Can’t get enough out there, huh? Did you really have to bring her home?” The girl deliberately tugged her towel lower, her pale skin showing as she sneered, “Mr. Tennant says you’re like a dead corpse in bed! He wanted me to teach you how to please a man.” That night, I was forced to watch their little performance right in front of me. The next morning, James was furious at my indifference, resenting me for not reacting. However, he seemed to forget that our marriage was nothing but a contract, and in just one week, that contract would expire.

In my final year of high school, my parents died, leaving me nothing but a crumbling brick house. And yet, I somehow got myself a younger brother. He was a second-year student at our school, at the top of his grade. But no one respected him. Even when he was bullied, the teachers turned a blind eye. Why? Because even if others didn't beat him, his drunken father did it every day, while his cowardly mother never dared to fight back. I dragged him home with all my strength, patched up his wounds, and kept him with me for several days. Later, when his mother was beaten to death, I called the police and had his father arrested. "Hey," I told him, "from now on, live with me. I don't have any family left. Call me sister, and I'll put you through school." He dreamed of getting into a prestigious university. So I dropped out, set up a street stall, sold my own blood, and even took illegal jobs just to support him. When he graduated, he said he wanted to start a business. I gave him every cent of my savings. And then one day, I watched him stand beneath the dazzling lights, a radiant girl at his side, holding a trophy for a youth entrepreneurship award. I looked down at the cancer diagnosis in my hands. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. In the end, I had raised him into someone I could no longer reach. It was time for me to leave the stage.

On the day I get released from prison, Joshua Caldwell's adoptive sister, Madeline Caldwell, hosts a live stream to welcome me home. She makes sure to shove the phone right in my face. "This is my older sister, Victoria. Even though she has gotten violated by 13 people, she still has the courage to continue living in this world." The comment section explodes instantly. Joshua frowns slightly, but Madeline merely sticks her tongue out at him with a cute smile on her face. Instead of going hysterical like I did three years ago, I just smile at everyone. "A woman's body is never her weakness. The offenders are the ones who deserve to die, not me." After returning home, I don't stop Joshua from letting Madeline visit our parents' graves on their death anniversary on my behalf. I don't mind Joshua giving my room away to Madeline and telling me to stay in the storeroom. Even when Madeline pushes me into the water once again, Joshua chooses to save her despite her knowing how to swim. After I get rescued by a passerby, I just go home on my own silently. Mixed feelings swirl in Joshua's eyes as he looks at me. "That three-year sentence has changed you for good, Vicky." I just smile softly in response. All I've done is finally see reality for what it is and not harbor any hopes for him at all. Moreover, the system, which I've lost contact with, has finally returned three days ago. It told me that it could take me home in seven days. But why is it that Joshua loses his mind after I've left this world for real?

The last thing that I saw, before all that darkness had consumed me, before everything turned to a deep hole of nothingness and a raging fire. Was the spread of bone wings, torn at the end, like the world had rejected it's ever existence. And i was just a host to fill up that nothingness derived into a whole pit of darkness. After a life threatening incident, Dianna Keith discovers her life has taken a huge turn over that could destroy everything she's believed and dreamed of. As the story goes by a fiery spirited girl , she realizes she can never have the life she used to have before. Not when there was a tormenting darkness inside of her. Not when she was possessed by the ruler of hell.

Der Arzt sagte, ohne die neueste experimentelle Therapie hätte ich nur noch 72 Stunden zu leben. Aber der einzige Behandlungsplatz war von Lukas Berger an Verena Lindner vergeben worden. „Ihre Niereninsuffizienz ist schlimmer“, sagte er. Ich nickte und schluckte die weißen Tabletten, die meinen Tod beschleunigen würden. In der verbleibenden Zeit tat ich viele Dinge. Als ich unterschrieb, zitterte die Hand des Anwalts: „Anteile im Wert von 270 Millionen Euro, wollen Sie sie wirklich alle übertragen?“ Ich sagte: „Ja, an Verena Lindner.“ Meine Tochter Lilli lachte fröhlich in Verenas Armen: „Mama Verena hat mir ein neues Kleid gekauft!“ Ich sagte: „Es sieht wunderschön aus. Hör in Zukunft auf Mama Verena.“ Die Galerie, die ich mit eigenen Händen gegründet hatte, trug nun Verenas Namen. „Jana, du bist zu gut.“ Sie weinte, als sie es sagte. Ich antwortete: „Du wirst sie besser führen können als ich.“ Sogar auf das Treuhandvermögen meiner Eltern verzichtete ich mit meiner Unterschrift. Endlich zeigte Lukas zum ersten Mal seit vielen Jahren ein aufrichtiges Lächeln: „Jana, du hast dich verändert. Du bist nicht mehr so aggressiv – so bist du schön.“ Ja, im Sterben war ich endlich die „perfekte Jana Hoffmann“ in ihren Augen – fügsam, großzügig, ohne Widerspruch. Der Countdown von 72 Stunden hatte begonnen. Und ich fragte mich neugierig: Wenn mein Herzschlag auf null fällt, woran werden sie sich erinnern? An die „gute Ehefrau“, die endlich loslassen gelernt hatte? Oder an eine Frau, die mit ihrem Tod Rache vollendete?

When I finally lay my eyes on two marriage certificates, I finally realize that the certificate I share with my husband, Vittore Ferri, is the fake one. As for the other certificate, it's real. The other certificate shows Vittore and Chiara Romano, the daughter of the Ferri family's former Consigliere. So, it turns out that the husband, whom I've just married, has already married another woman a month ago.

I'm married to Don Vincenzo Corleone of the Corleone family for five years. During those years, I'm the Donna whom everyone is envious of. But only I know that his love doesn't belong to me anymore. Vincenzo no longer takes me to core family gatherings. Our home is filled with photos of him and his childhood sweetheart, Lina Villo. At the banquet, Lina, who has won an award with the recipe she has stolen from me, nuzzles against Vincenzo's chest while receiving everyone's congratulatory wishes. Meanwhile, I get berated by the same man in public. Even when I get kidnapped, Vincenzo chooses to not save me just because he wants to take care of Lina. I've given Vincenzo five years of my love, only to end up with nothing good. So, I delete all of his contact information and board the ship meant for Castelloro. Vincenzo, I'm not going to pine for the genuine love and respect you owe me anymore. Let's not see each other again for the rest of our lives. We don't owe each other anything anymore.

One day, shortly after I had experienced a miscarriage, Alan brought me a bowl of chicken soup—and a divorce agreement. "Sophia's pregnant," he had said. "So let's just leave each other like mature adults do." Chicken soup had never tasted so bitter in my life. I knew Sophia Mason—he had sponsored her education before. She was also the one who caused my miscarriage. I did not cry. I did not throw a fit. I just asked why. He looked relieved. Then, he looked at me blankly. "The truth is I can't stand you over these seven years. Every time we lie together on our bed, I just can't help but be disgusted by what your body has gone through. "I know you suffered that because of me. But I can't do it. I can't stop remembering how defiled it is. "Our kid is gone. We owe each other nothing now—so let's end it here, right now." So that was it, huh? Hilarious. He had no idea who the "defiled" one was—him. Seven years ago, I inserted a memory chip into his brain to save him. And now, in three days' time, the chip will cease to function. He will remember everything… and he will wish he were long dead.

Am Tag vor meiner Hochzeit ging ich früh in unsere Kathedrale, um mich mit dem Ort vertraut zu machen. Stattdessen fand ich meinen Verlobten und meine Stiefschwester Isabella auf dem Altar beim Sex. Auf unserem Altar. Ich erwischte sie. Er entschuldigte sich nicht einmal, sondern warf mich einfach in den Sturm hinaus. Ich brach im strömenden Regen zusammen. In diesem Moment fand er mich. Alistair, der Vampirprinz. Er bewegte sich wie ein Gott durch den Sturm. Er zog mich aus dem Schlamm und schenkte mir einen Palast. Er sagte der ganzen Welt, ich sei seine Schicksalsgefährtin. Die Eine, nach der er seit Jahrhunderten gesucht hatte. Seine Einzige. Fünf Jahre lang machte mich seine Hingabe zum Neid der übernatürlichen Welt. Ich glaubte, ich sei die Ausnahme in seinem ewigen Leben. Bis ich seinen Geheimraum fand. Meine Finger strichen über eine uralte Schriftrolle. Die Schrift war mit Blut geschrieben. In der ersten Zeile stand der Name: Isabella. Darunter, in Alistairs eigener Handschrift: „Absolute Priorität. Über allem.“ Dann befand sich ein Heilerprotokoll, das ich noch nie zuvor gesehen hatte. Das Heilprotokoll eines Vampirs. Das Datum war der Abend, als ich von meiner Schwangerschaft erfuhr. Die Nacht wurde ich von Werwölfen angegriffen. Man brachte mich blutüberströmt zurück ins Schloss. Die Heiler kamen nicht zu mir. Ich wachte allein auf. Unser Baby war weg. Unser Kind. Sein Blut, mein Blut – weg. Und meine Kleidung war von dem durchnässt, was davon übrig geblieben war. Ich wischte jede Spur davon fort. Als er nach Hause kam, brach ich in seinen Armen zusammen. Ich erzählte es ihm nie. Ich konnte es nicht ertragen, dass er den Schmerz fühlen sollte, den ich gefühlt hatte. Jetzt verstand ich es. In derselben Nacht war auch Isabella von Werwölfen angegriffen worden. Und Alistairs Befehl an seinen Rat lautete: „Schickt jeden Heiler. Isabella hat Priorität.“ Mein Herz stand still. Verzweiflung war ein Gift in meinen Adern. „Wenn ich nie die Eine gewesen bin ... dann behalt deine Ewigkeit. Ich will keinen Teil davon.“

The day his first love got divorced, my husband drank himself senseless. I stayed up past midnight taking care of him, only to discover that his phone’s photo album was filled with pictures of her. The next morning, after he sobered up, he said to me, “Let’s redo our wedding.” I knew this was his way of provoking his first love into coming back. I smiled and agreed, but not before I slipped a divorce settlement agreement into the wedding contract he signed.