Interactive Fiction Competition

In my previous life, my three sons told me they wanted to set up a Family Bond Fund for me. Each of them would deposit three thousand dollars every month. I cried with gratitude, truly believing that decades of sacrifice had finally paid off. One of them even said, "Mom, you've given us so much. It's our turn to take care of you now." However, eight years later, I was told I have uremia. That was when I discover that the bank card, which supposedly held the fund, couldn't even cover the dialysis deposit. Soon after, my eldest son video-called me. He said he wanted to buy a better apartment in a good school district. He was short of 150 thousand dollars for the down payment and asked if I could lend it to him first. My second son came to the hospital with his wife and daughter. He didn't ask about my condition at all. Instead, he kept showing off his daughter's piano competition trophy, hinting that he needed 50 thousand dollars to enroll her in a prestigious international piano program. My youngest son was even more straightforward. He said he had his eye on a limited-edition pair of sneakers and wanted me to pay 30 thousand dollars for them as a birthday gift. The moment they realized the bank account didn't have enough money, their faces fell. "We each put in three thousand dollars every month. Over eight years, that's at least eight hundred thousand dollars. Mom, are you hiding the money from us?" To force me to reveal my savings, they took turns pressuring me, switching between sweet talk and threats. They even told relatives that I had dementia and had been scammed out of my money. Unable to take it anymore, I yanked out my IV late one night and walked out of the hospital, only to be hit by a car, dying instantly. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day of my hospital checkup.

Il prend du chocolat fondu sur la table et il me l'étale sur le ventre , il le lèche délicatement , puis , il en reprend encore qu'il étale cette fois-ci sur mes cuisses . - Tu es délicieuse ma chérie . - Et toi , tu es parfait . Il me remonte dessus pour me remplir de sa queue . - Hum - Hooo . Il m'embrasse passionnément , mais , il ne s'arrête il continue à me prendre doucement . - Je t'aime . - Je t'aime aussi ....Humm....oui.... vas-y... plus fort... Après une heure de passion , nous prenons une douche ensemble . Je suis réveillée par une douleur à la poitrine , j'ouvre les yeux et je suis surprise de voir mon mari au-dessus de moi , TENANT UN COUTEAU À LA MAIN . Je ne comprends pas , que se passe-t-il ?Je me rends compte qu'il me POIGNARDE encore et encore . Je suis tétanisée par la peur et la douleur mais surtout par l'incompréhension . Que fait-il ? Mais pourquoi me fait-il celà ? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé ? C'est mon mari ou est-ce que je me trompe ? C'est ma confusion qui fait que je le confond avec celui qui est en train de me tuer . Ce roman est pour un public averti : interdit aux moins de 21 ans . Âmes sensibles s'abstenir . Compilation d'histoires de Meurtres de femmes et d'hommes un peu partout dans le monde . Qui les tuent ? pourquoi ? Quelle est l'histoire derrière ces meurtres ? Découvrez des histoires de victimes de meurtres , les raisons et les conséquences dévastatrices sur ces familles qui ont perdu des êtres chers . Ceci est de la fiction toute ressemblance avec un fait passé n'est que coïncidence .