Novel & Cerita Over My Dead Body Book

Scarlett seemed to remember something and immediately told them to let me go. Seth pointed at me in frustration. "Scarlett, don't let Ron fool you. He's the one who's acting. "I barely tapped him three times and he's acting like he's dying. Who's he trying to fool?" The moment he finished speaking, I collapsed to the ground, unable to support myself. Blood seeped through my white shirt, spreading across my back in a dark red stain. The onlookers gasped in shock. "Ron, are you okay?"

she asked softly. Mr. Cole looked straight into his daughter’s eyes, his voice low and heavy. “Liam Destyra.” ........ A man stood beneath the blood-red glow of the setting sun, his hands drenched in crimson, his shirt dripping with the blood of his latest victim. The lifeless body at his feet lay twisted on the ground, eyes frozen in eternal terror. His pitch-black hair clung to his face, partly shadowing eyes so sharp and hypnotic they seemed to pierce through souls. Alluring yet deadly, they were the kind of eyes no one dared hold for more than a heartbeat lest they be consumed by the darkness within them.

“Andrea, would you please stop this nonsense?” I yanked the card back, unfazed. “I’m buying a plot for your parents. This is serious. If Camille bought it, would you call it “nonsense” too? Or is her family dropping dead soon?” Camile stomped her foot and gasped. “Andrea, that’s such a vile thing to say! How could you curse my family like that?” I coldly said, “This is the first time I’ve ever seen a living person try to fight the dead for a grave. Are you that eager to die, Camile?”

The man who had killed me had ensured my silence, and I knew that I had to maintain the facade, no matter how desperate I was to confide in Raphael. As the night wore on, I found myself grappling with a strange, morbid fascination with my newfound state. Being dead was a surreal experience, and yet, I couldn't deny the thrill of possessing dark, otherworldly power. It was a twisted, alluring sensation, one that I knew I should fear, but couldn't help feeling drawn to.

I’m sorry… With that final thought, I slowly closed my eyes. Everything went dark. ****** When I opened my eyes again, there was no pain. No blood. No weight. “What…?” My breath caught as I looked down. My body lay on the ground. Broken. Motionless. Soaked in blood. That was me. A strangled sound tore from my throat as my knees gave out. “No… no…” My knees buckled. “I’m… dead?” I reached out instinctively— My hand passed straight through. Cold terror wrapped tightly around me.

"She couldn't speak. She could barely breathe. When I saw that... it scared me... I wanted to call a doctor, an ambulance, someone to help. She called me over, to-told me to sit down and listen carefully. She said she wanted me to promise her something before she goes..." Damien let out a sigh and wiped his tears. Ashleigh could feel tears building up in her eyes too. "She said I should promise to move on and continue being a good man... promise to live life to the fullest and not let anything stop me from doing so... be it sickness, be it poverty, be it loss, I should take it all as it comes. "I promised her I would then she... sh-she closed her eyes a-a-and that was it. She just... died...

The blame rests entirely upon my actions. His arms tightened around me. Against my hair he murmured the words, "No, it’s not." My attempts to halt the progression proved futile. The sensation of it taking place reached my awareness. That spiraling sensation. The oppressive burden suffocates and compresses. The event extended beyond her mere passing. This event marked his demise as well. The memories returned with relentless force, sweeping through my consciousness as an unyielding tidal surge. An additional firearm discharge occurred. Another friend gone. A lifeless body rests at my feet.

Apart from the gifts I had given her in the past, I found nothing that belonged to me. When she was taken away by the coroners, the only thing she had on was a thin nightgown. There was no way she had been carrying anything else on her. The same ominous question came back to me—Was it truly her in the first place? All the recent deaths were too much for me to handle. I propped my hands against Sybille’s desk and felt a metallic scent fill my mouth before throwing up a mouthful of blood. My blood splattered against the cover of a book. It was a copy of “The Book of the Dead” I had lent her.

You immediately analyzed the position of their bodies, they were all surrounding the podium at the center of the room. "They died in this room," you said while taking careful steps around the grotesque scene before us, "one by one, they patiently waited for death to take them." As you finished your inspection, your eyes finally looked at the large book resting on the podium. "How the bodies are positioned, it is almost as if they died on their feet while looking at that," you pointed at the book while trying to hide the shake in your body. But once again, I ignored it.

Even though beneath the atmosphere, the faint shrieks and cries of a woman and child could be heard in his ears and only in his ears. He entered the living room and smelled it instantly. It was disgusting. He knew enough to know it was the scent of death. The smelling odor of a decaying dead body. As he had predicted, he caught sight of a naked man lying on the ground. Dead. Red blood was pooling beneath his body. His head was slightly ripped off and his neck was broken and slashed. Zach looked at the body, emotionless. The body was one of his men. But it was necessary to be killed and sacrificed. They were trained to fight and destined to be killed after all. Suddenly, he felt cold. But it