I Was Only Nineteen

I woke up to the morning sun shining dimly into my room, directly into my face. The feeling of a rough hand resting lightly on my stomach, I turn over and my eyes widen with shock. How the hell did my Chief end up in my bed? What did I do last night? I tried my hardest to remember what all went down at the mandatory command picnic… I remember going out to a bar outside of base. I remember dancing, after running into a friend from my previous command, that left a year after I got there, because she got transferred to a new command. I remember her buying me shots, to celebrate our reunion and working together again. But then everything went blank….

Two years ago, as a graduate of Werewolf Medical School, I volunteered to go to the most remote and poorest pack, as it had always been my dream to help werewolf patients in need. I heard from my teacher that the werewolves in the Rogue Pack were the poorest and that their living conditions were the worst. Most of the werewolves there were old and weak, so I volunteered to go to that pack as soon as I graduated. After I arrived, I helped them build an infirmary and even set up a blood station. Every year, I led them in voluntary blood donations. But one time—right after I had taken a short break following a blood donation—they turned on me. They slandered me, calling me a selfish and heartless healer. Worse still, they accused me of faking illness, claiming I was lying comfortably in bed while patients were dying—refusing to lift a finger to save them. Not only that, they stormed into the infirmary, seized all my herbs and equipment, and completely trashed the place I had built for them with my own hands. Recalling the days I had spent day and night healing them—only to see my infirmary destroyed and my dream shattered—I let out a bitter smile. I picked up the phone and called the dean of my home pack. "I'm ready to return," I said. "I want to serve the patients in our own pack." Then, without a trace of regret, I left that place behind. However, after I gave up, the whole pack regretted it and begged me to return.

[ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs - ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇᴅ ] Emily Willows longs for passion, but only with the man of her dreams: the brilliant, warm and dashing Edward Jones. If only her oblivious, dreaming neighbour can stop with all his gentlemanly-ness and just pin her into the nearest solid obstacle available. And then, perhaps encircle her whimpering body into the solid rippling confines of his warmth- But no, he would not. He could not. As they’ve been best friends for, well, ever. And that's why it becomes extremely challenging for her when he asks her the biggest favour he could ever ask. The one favour she was sure no friend would ever ask their own. The one she was sure to lose herself to. The one she knew she shouldn’t say yes to. But it would indeed be the one to make her crazy all the same. Oh, dammit, all to hell. ~ritikablush.Copyright StarryRitika 2020

I was the stand-in who looked most like my husband's first love. He put me through countless plastic surgeries, both major and minor ones, until I became her exact likeness. But then, she came back from the dead. All it took was her saying, "I don't like anyone looking like me," and he sent me right back to the operating table once more. I begged him, telling him that my body couldn't handle it anymore. Alas, he only looked at me with irritation. "Seeing that cheap imitation of her face just disgusts me," he sneered. "No matter how close you come, you'll never be her." In the end, I died on that operating table. Yet, he went mad, trying desperately to recall what I once looked like.

He believed a lie. He broke my heart. But his son needs me and nothing will stop me from helping him. I promised to love my husband forever, but he didn't do the same for me. Just one lie and I found myself alone at the worst time of my life. I lost my baby, the man I loved and the life we ​​were building together. My career as a pediatrician not only lifted me up, but became my reason for living. I may not have been able to save my daughter, but I can save other people's precious babies. But it's in the hospital, in my little refuge, that Connor Mycroft has come back to haunt me. His son, a child I never even knew existed, is sick and needs the best pediatrician possible to lead his treatment. And unfortunately for the Mycroft family, that someone is me. My ex-husband still thinks I am the cause of all his misfortunes. His family hates me. His female "friend" seems willing to do anything to get rid of me. But I love little Theodore like I loved my own child and nothing will stop me from saving him.

Roses are red. His love I dread. He owns me. And my body too. Daddy's little princess, mummy's favorite but the mafia lord's little toy. He bought me, claimed me, made me his; body and soul. He tainted me. I'm now his obsession too. I belong to him. And he never let me forget. I'm his prisoner, his medicine and pain. The thirst to escape runs through me like a wild fire. But the toxicity of his voice tattooed in my mind and his touch imprinted on my soul kept me grounded. I'm addicted. But with him, it was something dark and crazy.

In order to protect my father, I was tortured for ten hours, but my father was busy celebrating his adopted daughter’s eighteenth birthday. With my dying breath, I called my father and said, “Dad, it’s my birthday today. Could you wish me a happy birthday?” “You crazy monster! You got your mother killed in order to celebrate your birthday! How could you still ask me to celebrate your birthday? You should just die!” With that said, he hung up. The next day, my corpse was placed in different flower pots and put in front of a police station. My father was in charge of inspecting my corpse, and he could immediately tell that the murderer did this for revenge. What they did to me was cruel and made a mockery of the police’s authority. But he did not manage to tell that the deceased was the daughter he hated.

Grandpa died, and we immediately went for each other's throats over the inheritance. Then a blizzard hit, trapping us all in the family estate. An app appeared on our phones: [THE LAST ZOMBIE: FINAL RECKONING]. We had to pick a hiding spot. The last one standing—the last human standing—would inherit everything. I chose the dark, silent recording studio in the basement. Away from them all. When it was time to pick special powers, my family chose powerful weapons or pocket dimensions full of supplies. I chose Bio-Stasis. It slowed my cells to a crawl, and my body along with them. My stepbrother's fiancée, Chloe, called me an idiot. "Hiding from your family and picking a useless power? You're on a suicide mission." They threw a zombie-slaying party upstairs, already celebrating an inheritance they hadn't even won. Until, one by one, they turned. And started tearing each other apart. What they didn't know... was that I'd rigged the game from the start. The only way to win was to stay completely silent.

Serina was in a whirlwind marriage with the CEO of Liverteo foundation. She one-sidedly fell in love with him after, but secrets and lies made her miserable. She died on the day she saw him lying next to a woman, but with a twist of fate she was able to travel back to a year before she met her tragic accident. She decided to change her fate by divorcing him. Serina is determined to make sure that divorce is the only ending for them, but can she really stop her heart from falling again even after discovering his hidden admirable traits, which she failed to notice before?

I was the real daughter of the Sinclair family, yet I was the one abandoned when their fake daughter and I were kidnapped and taken to the top of a building. They were given a choice between the two of us, and they chose to save the fake daughter, letting me be pushed off from the eighteenth-floor balcony. Even though I survived, I was completely disappointed in them. Then, their attitudes changed overnight. My parents, who despised me, started asking me about my likes and dislikes. My brother who wished me dead, started suddenly giving me precious jewelry. Even my fiancé, who always claimed I was nothing compared to the fake daughter, started to prepare for our wedding. To say I was confused was an understatement.