Murdered By My Memories Novels & Stories

Rose Murdock's POV No one ever mentioned again the surprise coming-of-age ceremony I had planned for Raymond. As for the truth behind our parents' deaths, my grief and guilt were more than enough. He didn't need to know. That day, he had said to me, "Rose, you really make me hate you. I hate you more than anything!" From then on, he never once looked me in the eye. I was trapped inside those memories. Suddenly, I felt someone patting my arm and calling me softly. I jerked awake, gasping for air.

My mother, Samantha, believed I was born a liar. Because she was deceived by my father's sweet words in her youth and abandoned after giving birth to me and my sister, Mia, she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for lies. She begged a witch for two magic rings. The rule was simple: if the wearer lied, the ring would glow red and burn them with magic. Mia's ring never hurt her, even when she broke a vase and blamed it on me. But if I simply said, "I'm thirsty," my ring would sear my flesh until I screamed. At first, I tried to defend myself, but Mom would just say, "The ring doesn't lie. Only through repeated punishment can your wicked soul be cleansed." After thousands of burns, even I started t

"If someone in this city is capable of locking you outside a gate and watching you die, I would like to know that person's name before I end up standing next to them at a board meeting." I turn and look at him, really look, in the gray predawn light coming through the windshield, and something about the flat certainty in his voice — not sympathy, not the careful concern people perform when they think you might be fragile, just cold, practical wariness, the same wariness I've been running on for two days — makes something in my chest come loose that's been wound tight since I woke up gasping in my old bedroom. "Julian Ashford," I say. "And my stepsister."

I pursued my older sister’s best friend relentlessly for three whole years before she finally agreed to a secret relationship with me. However, after five hidden years together, right as I was preparing to propose, I overheard a conversation between her and her friends. "Your first love is about to return to the country. How do you plan to handle that substitute boyfriend of yours?" "Make sure you have a solid excuse when you break up with him. Don't make it too ugly, or Cora will never forgive you if she finds out her little brother got hurt." After a long silence, she made her decision. "Then I'll just fake amnesia. I'll pretend I forgot the past five years. Since it was a secret relat

He was only in my mind and trying to mess with me. "Which means that this should be able to go both ways!" In that instant, I felt my move begin to dance dangerously within me. "Yara!" I screamed and she released the loudest roar from within me. I felt the coldness that had reached into the back of my mind snap and I was suddenly hit with memories. Strange memories that did not seem to be mine. There was a boy, stabbed and lying on the cold hard ground, in a pool of his own blood. He looked pale and wronged.

Instead, I had banged on the closet doors so desperately that my arms had become mangled, with blood pouring out uncontrollably. "Stay inside, and think about what you've done!" Blood had gushed out from my lower half, and I realized that I had lost the child. Ignoring the lack of oxygen, I had used my last bit of strength to slam my head into the closet doors, hoping Cody would understand how helpless I had felt. "Looks like you're actually scared, huh? Can you finally understand the terror Luna felt when she was trapped?" In the end, I had suffocated to death. Before I had closed my eyes for the final time, I had heard him say coldly, "Chain this closet up! I'm sick and tired of all this c

"I remember dying. I remember my own brother selling me to strangers who wanted my blood. I remember bleeding out in the forest while the two people I trusted most watched me die. What I don't remember is how I ended up naked in your woods a year later." That got his attention. He went very still, his predatory focus sharpening to a razor point. "A year?" "It was October when I died. Halloween night. My twentieth birthday." I touched my throat unconsciously, feeling for wounds that were no longer there. "How long ago was that?" "It's October now," he said slowly. "Halloween is next week." The words hit me like a physical blow. A full year. I'd been dead for a full year, and I had no memory o

“She was murdered.” My world shattered like a dropped snow globe, the familiar comfort of my memories swirling into a blizzard of confusion and pain. The revelation felt like a seismic shift, ripping apart the foundation of my reality. The haven of childhood, painted in hues of laughter and warmth, now seemed hollow, haunted by secrets and lies. Each cherished memory; Mom’s bedtime stories, our shared love of sunflowers, her infectious laughter, warped and twisted, tinged with the bitter truth.

Mumring something that wasn't clear I sat down opposite lost in my worry and my stare completely in him At the moment something flashed through my mind Did he just said someone kill his mother ,I'm my memories I saw a lifeless busy ,stab to dearth as well Could I have been a murder, Did I kill his mum at the moment I was shivering I couldn't My heart racing heard like they were going to popped out if my chest m I sat down grabbing my chest in pain 'What have I done ,what have I done' , the only thought and word that could coke out of my mouth

I murdered an innocent man. My eyes snapped open and all my memories came flooding back, accompanied by my broken screams, each memory holding complete heartbreak and dejection. Blood oozed from my nose, eyes, and ears. I heard my mate crying in the background, asking Shannon to make it stop as I lost my vision. It didn't and eventually I passed out.