She Took My Place Novel Novels & Stories

We had been by each other's side yet she took away my man and tried to kill me. "No." I rephrased. "She killed me." I wasn't Kessa anymore, I was trying to take the place of someone that had destroyed the life of the man that was going to help me. I pushed Fiona to the back of my mind as I walked inside. She had a way of creeping in at the wrong times, and I couldn't give her that today. Not after the morning I'd just had. The new room they gave me was simple and clean. It had a king-sized bed, floral curtains, and a bathroom with hot water that came fast. I didn't need much more than that.

Her love had buried the darkness away but I still feared that one day the barrier would break and the monster inside me would resurface once more. I don't know why but I found myself walking towards our favorite spot and pulled out a novel. Her favorite book. After by Anna Toad. It kinda felt like the story somehow related to our actual life like Chelsea was Tessa and I was Hardin. He had darkness as well just like me. Mr. Smith was right Chelsea had changed me into a better person, a person that was trapped inside me sheldied by the darkness that made me cold. I missed everything about her. This place didn't seem that special in her absence. I took a photo of the book I was reading and sent

she said, guiding me toward the bathroom. I let her help me. She washed my hair, cleaned the dried blood, and helped me stand when my legs felt weak. Being treated like this felt strange. I have never been taken care of like this before. After the bath, she picked out clothes for me and helped me put them on. She dried my hair, arranged it neatly, and covered the wound on my head. I reached for my contact lenses and held them in my hand. I made a mistake before. I came here without hiding my real eye color. I placed the black lenses in my eyes.

Small, deliberate placements along the beams began to glow, one after another, until the ceiling looked like it was studded with angry stars. Thermite. The realization hit me so hard my knees almost buckled. The maid wasn’t just a victim. She was the bait and I was prey. “No,” I whispered, backing away instinctively. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.” I spun and sprinted for the main exit anyway, refusing to accept it. My feet barely touched the ground as I crossed the warehouse in seconds, my hand slamming into the steel door with all the strength my new body could summon.

Just a quiet smile that hit me harder than any punch could. “You look tired,” she said, and stepped aside. Inside, the apartment smelled faintly of spices and cardboard. She’d ordered takeout, containers spread across the coffee table. She handed me chopsticks like it was routine, like I belonged here, and didn’t ask about the fire or the day or why my jaw was tight enough to crack. We ate sitting cross-legged on the floor, cartons balanced on our knees. She talked about her book, about some side character she’d decided was secretly a villain, about how maybe Goose had inspired him. I listened, the sound of her voice steadying the storm in my chest.

After I had paid her back, Holly had tossed aside her college dreams to chase fortunes in Eastbridge City, diving headfirst into the stock market. She thought she would strike it rich with her so-called previous life's wisdom, but the stock market was no child's play. She ended up broke, swallowed her pride, and returned home by train. Our parents urged her to settle down with any bachelor in town, but Holly's spirit was too wild for that. She left, only to resurface in a grim human trafficking scandal. Anthony's army buddy recognized her cries for me and reached out. When I saw her, her eyes pleaded for rescue, but some chains were too heavy for one person to break.

She had changed out of her evening dress and now wore a simple sweater, as though we had returned to one of the nights when we worked here together. “You’re awake.” She placed one cup in front of me. “I bought the kind you used to drink.” I did not touch it. “You had me kidnapped.” “I wanted you to see this place again.” Vivian sat across from me. “You refused to meet me. You blocked every number I used, and I didn’t know how else to make you listen.” “So you hired men to drag me into a van?” “They were only supposed to bring you here. They weren’t meant to hurt you. Hitting your head was an accident.”

Nothing to do with me. My hand moved to my jacket pocket, where the worn blue cover of her notebook rested against my chest. I had read it so many times the spine had cracked. I knew every entry by heart—the small hopes, the quiet disappointments, the morning she had written Today I choose myself in a hand that trembled with the weight of everything she had survived. I had carried it across the country in my pocket, unable to leave it behind, unable to let go of the last piece of her I had left.

She took her time as she looked around before placing books on the shelf. When she was done, I went to look at the placement of the books. It seemed like she put everything in the correct place. Frowning, I grabbed the book she had been reading. As I flipped through it, I couldn’t find anything that seemed like she was plotting something. It looked like she had just been reading about the different Marks and what they meant. Putting the book back, I peeked around the shelf to find her. I didn’t see her anywhere. Stepping out into the open, I crossed my arms over my chest. Where did she go now?

She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "She left this morning. She told me to give you this." She slid a folded piece of parchment across the wood. I didn’t take her seriously because I was already annoyed, and I knew Novel couldn't leave because she doesn't even know about this place and she can't survive alone. I didn’t bother arguing; I just took the letter and the medicine and went back to the room. In truth, Novel wasn’t anywhere in the room. I decided to open the letter, and when I opened it, it read: