Ninth House Book Novels & Stories

Chapter 90 – The Fire Beneath The morning started like any other, quiet and serene, the sunlight filtering through the tall windows of the penthouse, casting soft, golden rays across the room. Clara had woken up early, as she often did when her thoughts were swirling, and she sat in the kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee as she skimmed through her manuscript. The book was moving forward in a way she hadn’t expected. It felt right, felt like a part of her story was finally coming together, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace about her journey.

It was frighteningly tempting. I twisted off the cap and poured the pills into my hand, swallowing them dry, along with the lingering metallic taste of blood in my mouth. My throat burned as I forced them down, but an odd, unsettling calm spread through my chest. I slid down to the floor and pressed my back against the cold cabinet. I didn't know how long I had been sitting there when the door finally opened. Dad stood in the doorway with an empty glass in his hand. He had probably come for water, but the moment he saw me, he forgot all about it.