Novelist Josephine Novels & Stories

Lucille’s POV I should have known. The guards gestured towards the bank of the sea. Josephine stood there, her hands behind her back. She was dressed in a blue cover-up beach dress. The wind blew to the side, revealing her well tone legs. Josephine was past her prime in age but she looked nothing like it. She was a beautiful woman. Not even age could fade that. I stepped into the sand, my shoes in hand, approaching cautiously even though she didn’t look anything like someone who would hurt me.

"I'm not interested in you, Cian or whatever sick games you're planning to play. Leave me alone, and stay the hell out of my life." He flashed me an impish grin. "That's impossible, and you know it. But anyway, I'll let you delude yourself into thinking you can escape from me." I looked at Josephine. Maybe she did me a favor all those years ago when she cheated with Cian. Maybe that was a good thing that had happened to me. Maybe it was the moon goddess's plan. She knew Cian was an asshole. Or he would be a world class asshole and she tore me away from him.

She wrote until there wasn't a fairy tale lie she couldn't expose anymore. "The End," she wrote at the last page of her novel. Cathedra climbed atop her desk chair and hung a noose over the beams. She tied a knot firmly, making sure it was strong enough to fulfill its purpose. She slipped the knot over her head. She jumped and kicked the chair off. For a few minutes she struggled and fought for breath, the way humans were normally programmed to do. For a few minutes, she had enough time to reflect on her short-lived life.

That was the reason why she decided to write everything that had happened to her the moment she joined the Alvarez family as a little girl. Once Josephine returned to her senses, she realized that she had filled one-third of the notebook with her memories. The woman just stared at the words that littered the notebook, clearly dumbfounded. Apparently, so much had transpired between her and Lewis. She was almost done filling the notebook with memories, yet she had not finished writing about all the events that had occurred in just one year. Josephine couldn't help but think that she might not be ill after all. Why else would she remember events that had happened in the ancient past?