I Thought You Were Dead Book Novels & Stories

And the new security guard—his presence had set me on edge from the moment he arrived. “Let’s try not to overthink it,” Darcy said, though her voice lacked conviction. “Yeah,” I agreed, standing up. “Let me grab my things, and I’ll be right back.” I returned to my room, my unease growing with every step. As I entered, I noticed something was off. My drawer was slightly ajar, and my Kindle was open to a page I hadn’t been reading. My heart skipped a beat as I read the title on the screen: *The Death of You.*

"That will do, Ed if she can say that before your parents. An obstacle between us will be cleared off." But, he didn't answer. Instead, he reached for the heavy velvet curtain and pulled it shut, saying arrogantly, "A little sunburn will do nothing to you until you decide what's best for you, Sonya." He was leaving me to ash! He didn't know after rebirth my strength was weekend and I could not tolerate sun as much as I used to. I collapsed against the door, the rays hitting my shoulders like molten lead. I closed my eyes, bracing for the familiar agony of my previous death, when suddenly, a shadow, massive and cold, fell over me.

He had gone completely still, his expression hard and unreadable, but there was something sharp in his eyes that made my stomach drop even further. This was real. Someone out there wanted me dead. Not because of something I had done, not because of some mistake I made, but simply because I existed. My mind started racing so fast I could barely keep up with my own thoughts. I tried to make sense of it, tried to calm myself by thinking logically, but somehow every thought only made things worse. If this El wanted me dead so badly… Why was I still alive? That question should have comforted me, but it didn’t.

It felt just like—death. Meanwhile, my family waited anxiously. Seeing the doctor return, they quickly donned their helmets without hesitation. Somewhere beyond my dying breaths, the machine's cold melody wrenched the last light of my mind back into memories.

I whispered. A fresh wave of nausea hit, memories pushing like claws against the walls of my mind, shadows of a past life I had spent years trying to understand. This book...This book was the answer. This was the ritual Darren used to kill me, to kill my baby, to take power for himself.

Was I? Was I already dead? It was entirely possible. Perhaps I’d died a few hours ago from dehydration. Or perhaps Giuulia really had shot me and I’d just imagined the rest of that scene. But no, that couldn’t be. Because death could not be this…this cement cell. The rat was telling lies.

"I'm sorry. I was too weak. I couldn't admit that Mom died because of the revenge they took on me." Hearing that, I finally felt a sense of relief. It turned out that Zack wasn't perfect at all. And maybe, I didn't need him at all. As I came to this realization, my soul turned transparent and began to fade away. Zack panicked instantly. He desperately tried to hold onto me, but it was no use. Before my last trace of consciousness faded away, I said, "Let's not meet again in our next life, Zack."

He said nothing but something in his eyes told me that he already knew. "It was your dear mother, it's funny you know... because I thought she was dead." My tone changed, losing the fake playfulness it held moments ago, a frown creased my forehead, "Wasn't she?" I pressed my palms on both sides of the handrest and leaned forward, "You see, when I kill someone, they're supposed to stay dead." I rolled my eyes, "But for some reason, all the dead people in my life somehow come back to life and they make their way into mine and screw it up."

Death tilts her head, thankfully not looking too suspicious of me. “She’s weak, not intimidating at all. If she has power, she doesn’t know it, so I suppose we don’t have much to worry about,” Death says dismissively, glancing back down at her book. I can’t help but frown, not expecting to be called weak, after everything I’ve achieved with Thoughts magic that has been passed upon me. In some ways, mine is stronger. I can’t help myself. “She’s not weak.” Death looks up from her book, narrowing her eyes.

We have an old rule in our town. Any family with twins must choose one to make an example out of. That is the way to discipline one’s children and ensure they grow up well. Born four minutes before my brother, I became that example. When my brother snuck out to swim in the river, Mom didn’t scold him. Instead, she pressed my head into the river again and again. She finally stopped when my brother cried, yelling that he would never go to the river again. When my brother forgot to switch on the rice cooker, Mom came back home from work only to realize that the rice was still uncooked in the pot. She then served me two bowls of uncooked rice. “Finish them and don’t leave a single grain be