Never Mind

While my boyfriend, Caleb Lawson, is in the shower, I grab his phone on a whim and drop a message in the group chat he's in with his friends. "Guess who I'm with tonight." I expect them to say my name, but their reply blindsides me. "That freshman who used to chase you when you were a sophomore? She's obsessed with you. She's definitely easier than your girlfriend. Want us to swing by tonight?" My gut tells me he's hiding more than an affair. Just as I start scrolling through his messages with the freshman, a notification from her pops up. "Caleb, I agree to the threesome. I'll do anything you want." Seconds later, another message appears in the group chat. "Just be careful this time. We don't need another body on our hands."

I took leave to be the maid of honor at my best friend's wedding. The moment I landed, Rachel Wendt showered me with lavish gifts: the newest flagship model smartphone, designer perfume, and other branded gifts. "A little gift for you," Rachel said. "Even though I'm getting married, you're still the most important person in my life!" I was deeply moved. Early the next morning, I got up at dawn, changed into my maid of honor gown, and went to find her. Rachel was having her makeup done. When she saw me, she excitedly waved at me. But the moment I went in closer, her face instantly turned icy. "You tramp! Get the hell out of my wedding!" I froze on the spot.

On Father's Day, I received a heartwarming gift. My one-year-old son called me Dad for the first time. But moments later, he convulsed, foamed at the mouth, and died before we could reach the hospital. My wife was shattered, and I was devastated. The doctors couldn't identify the cause of his death. Three years later, my wife emerged from her grief, and we welcomed our second child. But the moment this child called me Dad, they, too, died instantly. To spare her further pain, I suggested adoption. Yet, even our adopted children met the same fate. Unable to bear the losses, my wife divorced me. Everyone said I was cursed, never meant to be a father. Defiant, I remarried and had another child, vowing never to let them call me Dad. For years, we adhered to this rule. But when our daughter turned four, she came home from preschool, eager to celebrate Father's Day. Holding a card, she read aloud, "Dad."

I quit and dipped. City threw a parade. Only Jenna Blake—my oh-so-gifted junior who claimed she could "see through killers' eyes"—lost it. At her celebration banquet, she went full drama queen: "I owe everything to Kate Mercer. Please, bring her back!" I laughed. Cold. Not happening. Last time around, I was the hotshot detective. But every clue I found? She dropped it first like she read my mind. People started saying I was washed. So I went all in—three months, no sleep, cracked a massive trafficking ring. Led the raid myself. She beat me there. Again. Place was cleaned out. Boom. She's the city's golden girl. I'm the clown with no game. Pressure got ugly. My head snapped. I died chasing the last scumbag. Then—bam. I woke up. Same day. Raid morning. Round two.

My wolf awakened on my eighteenth birthday. Soon after, the Feral Curse tore through the werewolf world. The curse nearly claimed me, but a young Alpha, Lachlan, saved my life. He brought me to his pack. His parents, the Alpha and Luna, took me in. They gave me the best room in the pack house and treated me like the daughter they never had. Lachlan never left my side. He risked catching the curse himself, patiently feeding me potions one sip at a time. His wolf knew. I was his fated mate. I was the envy of the pack. I had an Alpha's total devotion. Then one day, Lachlan knelt before me. In his hands was the Moonstone necklace—the symbol of every Luna who came before me. He held me tight, whispering a promise to show the world that I belonged to him, and him alone. I accepted the necklace. But that night, I twisted his love into a poison. A poison I used to murder his parents and eighteen of their loyal retainers.

My daughter was violated and killed, yet her death was ruled a suicide. After seven failed appeals, I kidnapped the chief prosecutor’s daughter. I tied the chief prosecutor’s daughter to an autopsy table and publicly addressed the prosecutor’s office in a live stream. “I performed the autopsy myself. My daughter didn’t kill herself. She was murdered. “I’ll give you seven chances. Release the actual evidence and name the murderer publicly. Each time a chance runs out, I’ll remove one of her body parts.” The chief prosecutor and his wife knelt on the floor. They begged me desperately to spare their daughter. “The evidence proves your daughter took her own life. Stop this madness now and let my daughter go. She’s innocent.” Viewers in the live stream called me insane. They said I had lost my mind with grief and was taking it out on an innocent person. I ignored their contempt. With a sneer, I picked up a scalpel and pressed it against the judge’s daughter’s abdomen. “The clock is ticking. Hurry up and reveal the true murderer now.” I knew perfectly well the real murderer was watching the stream at that very moment.

Every other student could hear the inner thoughts of Chloe Yates, the campus belle. It was like a radio station was broadcasting her mind, and unfortunately for me, the broadcast was usually bad news. It started during the ROTC courses in our freshman year. I was doubled over with terrible period cramps and asked to sit out. Chloe just shook her head, letting out a dramatic, pitying sigh. "Oh, this is awful," her internal voice broadcast to everyone. "Should I tell everyone the truth? Sylvie is totally faking it. If the sergeant finds out she's lying, he's going to punish the whole class because of her." The sergeant, hearing her thoughts, immediately assumed I was a liar. He forced the entire class to run 30 laps as punishment. After that, no one would talk to me. Later, when I applied for the need-based financial aid grant, Chloe went on a rampage with her internal thoughts. "Her family isn't poor!" her voice screamed in everyone's heads. "They have a car and a house. She's just vain. She's trying to scam the college out of grant money so she can buy a new phone. I feel so bad for the actual poor kid whose spot she's stealing." Once the class heard that, they silently agreed to vote against my application. Without that money, I had no choice but to work three part-time jobs just to survive. I worked myself into the ground until I finally gave out. I collapsed in the classroom while clutching my chest, suffering a massive heart attack. I cried out, begging my classmates to call 911. However, Chloe's voice cut through the air right then. "She doesn't have a heart condition. She's pregnant. She's trying to trick a guy into taking her to the hospital so she can get an abortion, and then she's going to frame whoever helps her for getting her knocked up." Terrified of being blamed, the students backed away from me like I was radioactive. They stood there and watched as I died on the classroom floor. Right up until the moment I died, I never understood why my life had turned into such a nightmare. However, when I snapped my eyes open, I had returned to the day of the ROTC courses. The cramps were back, and the sun was beating down on me. Chloe did not know one crucial detail. This time, I could hear her thoughts too.

It's nighttime, and I'm on the toilet with my phone. I fire up Battleborn Arena, ready to grind a few ranked matches. But an unknown number flashes on-screen and cuts me off. Annoyed, I decline the call, and a WhatsApp message pops up immediately. "Run! Edgar just snapped. He's going to kill us all!" My hands tremble. Edgar Maguire… Isn't he already dead?

Detective Jack Malone stumbles into a nightmare when he raids an illegal biotech lab—only to find a silver-eyed woman, Subject 42, caged like an animal. Her name is Vesper, her memories fragmented by drugs, her calm demeanor unsettling. As Jack rescues her, he uncovers a web of corruption that reaches his own police force. A sudden tornado forces them into an underground shelter, where Vesper’s body betrays her: injected with experimental serum, she burns with unnatural heat, and Jack’s ethics shatter in the dark. But salvation twists into betrayal. Jack discovers Vesper is no victim—she’s the architect of the experiments, and he’s her chosen pawn. When she turns the tables, torturing him with his own guilt and the wreckage of his personal life, Jack must confront a harrowing truth: some monsters are made, not born. Their deadly dance culminates in a choice—vengeance or redemption—that will redefine justice, love, and the thin line between humanity and monstrosity. *Patient 42* is a dark, pulse-pounding thriller where desire and deception collide, and the most dangerous experiment is the human heart.

I took time off work and flew out to be my best friend's maid of honor. The moment my plane landed, she picked me up and took me straight to the hotel. Not long after we got to the room, she handed me a shopping bag. Inside was the newest phone on the market, a bottle of luxury perfume, and a check for ten thousand dollars. She said with a bright, excited smile, "It's your bridesmaid gift. Even if I'm getting married, you're still the most important person in my life." My eyes filled with tears right there. The next morning, I woke up before sunrise. I put on my bridesmaid dress and went to find her. She was sitting in front of the vanity mirror. Stylists were moving around her, busy with her hair and makeup. When she saw me, she turned with a huge smile and waved me over, her face glowing with excitement. But the moment I stepped closer, her expression changed. It was like she had just seen something disgusting. "Get out." Her voice was low, but the disgust in it was clear. "Disappear from my sight. Right now." I froze where I stood.