Daniel Aphmau Novels & Stories

I wanted him, needed him, more than anything, and I wasn’t even sure why. But before we could continue anything, the door burst open and Dash appeared, panting heavily. “Dane, there’s an emergency,” he stated breathlessly. Dane pulled away from me and looked at Dash, his expression serious. “What is it?” “Rogues breached the border. We need to act fast.”

“When it does, my heart hurts akin to being stabbed by a thousand knives. This usually happens once or twice a week. I have also tried consulting other doctors but they all came up short.” After a short pause, Daniel continued, “Recently, these black spots have been getting more obvious. Even the relapse happens far more often. Furthermore, every time it relapses, it really hurts. I am afraid that I will die from the pain of the next relapse if the situation persists!” He was right about that. From his estimations, the next relapse would be the day after tomorrow. On that day, the relapse would be the cause of his death. Originally, Bernard was to supply Daniel with the goods in two days to

"Daniel," I said. The Below-Prayer thrashed as if the name were a hook in its throat. [Partial bind established.] [Complete name required.] Ava's head snapped toward the alley. "There was a Daniel on my ambulance route. Daniel Hart. City records clerk. He helped evacuate the clinic." "Daniel Hart," I said. The courtyard rang like a struck bell. The Below-Prayer slammed flat to the ground. [True name confirmed.] [Curse victim: living.]

A journal Daniel had kept during the last year of his life. And in that journal, among all the raw painful entries about the addiction and the fear and the desperate attempts to get clean, there were several detailed entries about Damien about conversations Damien had with Daniel. About things Damien had told Daniel when he thought Daniel was too far gone to be a reliable witness to anything and things about his plans.

The pain relief medications were helpful, but the image of me being fired created a weird phantom pain. "Where's..." I started to say when suddenly the door barged open and Daniel walked in. "She's awake?" Daniel asked, shoving my parents aside and sitting beside me. He was in a black hoodie and even in my sick state, I couldn't help but feel attracted to how hot he looked. I'd never seen him in a hoodie and almost every American boy I knew was endlessly in a hoodie and sweatpants but he looked smoking hot with a quarter of his hair showing and a gold chain around his neck.

He‌r h⁠e‌artbeat started climbing immediately as she stepped o⁠ut o⁠f the car. Noah was beside Ama‌nda nea‌r the school gate laughing about something while Daniel st‌ood a few feet away w‌atching him quietly. W⁠atching him lik⁠e he was⁠ tr⁠ying to me‌morize ev‍ery d⁠etail. Ava hated that look insta‌ntly. Because six years ago Daniel Reyes walked away from that⁠ li‌ttle boy before he was even born. Now suddenl‌y he loo‍ke‍d emotional enough to deserve sympathy.

"Start the camera." Fidel turned on the recording equipment. The red light blinked on. Daniel's face appeared on the monitor chained and pale but with a stubborn set to his jaw. "For the record," I said to the camera, "this is Daniel Vanguard former CEO of Vanguard Weaponry. He has refused to confess to his crimes. What happens next is his choice." I walked over to Daniel with the knife. He watched me approach but didn't flinch. Didn't beg. Just kept that same defiant expression.