Story Of Self Harm

My five years of marriage to Elliot Kline turned out to be a cruel joke. "For tomorrow's monthly report meeting, I'd like Yvette to present your branding plan," Elliot said, not looking up from his desk. I put down the files I was organizing, certain I had misheard. "What?" "Yvette just joined the company. She needs a chance to prove herself. Your plan is perfect for that." He lifted his head, his tone brooking no argument. "But that's my entry for the Veriania Creative Competition," I protested. "You win awards every year. What's the harm in letting her have it this time?" He shrugged, adding, "We need to nurture new talent." I stared at the man with whom I had shared a bed for five years. His face suddenly felt so unfamiliar to me. "Do you know how many sleepless nights I poured into that plan? And you're giving it to a new intern?" "Don't be so petty. It's just a plan. My decision is made." My fists clenched, anger surging through me.

Emillia Lucille has everything. Money, looks, fame, family. You name it, she has it. Her luxury is never ending, so is her career as a model in an international agency owned by her father. Many envy her. Many tried to be her, but they failed. She is invincible. With her cold heart and charming look, she became the person every man and woman wanted and hated at the same time. But everything changed when she received a photo from an anonymous sender. A photo she ought to keep until she dies. A photo that can harm not only her career but also herself. A photo that will reunite her with her lost self and its acquaintances. Will she be able to reconnect to the past and fight the situation she was fated to face? Or will she be forever locked from it? And just like it, will she remain so far away?

In the fifth year of being Mrs. Cloud, my brother-in-law passed away. My mother, stressed by the thought of my older sister spending her youth in widowhood, wanted her to have a child with the help of my husband. I refused outright, but my protests were useless. My mother brought people to block the door, and I was left to watch helplessly as my husband and my half-sister entered the bedroom together. "She's your sister. What's the harm in letting her have him?" I thought that my husband couldn't possibly do anything with my sister since she was family. I thought he would draw the line, out of decency, out of respect. However, as time passed, my heart grew cold. Only then did I realize that I was the only one who cared about this matter. While I clutched our daughter in my arms and cried in silent devastation, he was going at it with my sister.

After I studied and lived in Descensio for five years, I finally graduated and was ready to return to my home country to take over my dad's company. When I arrived at the Sullivan Group building, I took a picture and posted it on my Instagram story with the caption. 'Since you're the man I love most, I'm here to see you immediately after graduation.' Yet, a woman appeared out of nowhere and slapped me as soon as I arrived at the company's lobby. "It's her! She's the hussy! She had seduced my husband back in high school. Now that my husband has become the director, she shamelessly showed up here to flirt with him. So, I want you girls to beat her up. I'll take the blame if anything happens." While the woman was cooking up a story about me seducing Marcus Lane, a director of Sullivan Group, others around simply looked on coldly and judged me. She slashed my limited-edition bag to pieces and smashed the expensive seal I wanted to give my dad. "You're just a gold digger wearing and buying fake luxury goods. It's just a few hundred dollars. I can still afford to pay you." However, little did she know that everything I had was real. Even if she and her director husband worked for the rest of their lives, they would never be able to afford to pay for the damages.

On the day of my wedding with Hannah Hawkes, her first love, Lucas Tate, sends his critical notice to her. He mentions that he wants to wear a wedding tuxedo one last time at a wedding before his death. In order to fulfill Lucas' wish, Hannah locks me up in a lounge and gets ready to attend the wedding with him. Her impatient voice echoes outside the door. "Why are you so cold-blooded? Lucas is about to die, you know! What's the harm in letting him have his way?" Some time after that, Freya Jensen, the young woman who lives next door, gets up to the rooftop and begs me to marry her. With red-rimmed eyes, Hannah asks pleadingly, "Are you going to give up on our seven-year relationship because of her?" I merely slap her hand away. "Am I supposed to watch Freya die? It's just a marriage registration. Stop being cold-blooded, will you?"

As the male lead, Henry Johnston, forces himself on me, a row of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Henry is about to misunderstand and think Aria drugged him! The angst is about to begin!" "I'm thrilled just thinking about Henry regretting dearly after Aria dies!" "Keep up the act, Henry. After she dies, you'll be hugging her corpse and crying every day." That is when I realize that I am the tragic female lead in a story where I am destined to be tormented until I die. The readers treat my death as a highlight to push the plot forward. They are counting down to my death. As I look at Henry, who is panting on top of me, anger courses through me. I grab a table lamp and smash it into him, killing him on the spot. Who says that the one who dies in a toxic romance story must always be the female lead?

When Ingrid Stewart, the prettiest woman in the factory, got dragged into an abandoned warehouse by a hooligan named Edmund Holloway, I didn't rush after them with a brick in my hand, unlike my past self in the previous life. Instead, I went to the nearest police station right away. In my previous life, I sustained heavy injuries in order to save Ingrid from Edmund. The Stewarts decided to marry her to me so that they could repay my life debt. After our marriage, I treated Ingrid with utmost sincerity, but all I received in return was her resentment. On the night the rundown apartment we lived in was on fire, I rushed into the inferno to push Ingrid and our son out of danger. In return, a beam crashed down on me. When I raised my head, I saw Ingrid dragging our son toward Edmund. Then, she said to me icily, "This is all your fault, you stupid coward! You're the reason why Edmund and I weren't able to get together for so many years!" Edmund guffawed loudly as well. "Right, I forgot to tell you that your son, whom you've loved for 18 years, is actually my child!" In the end, I kept coughing up blood because I inhaled too much smoke. Just like that, I died a gruesome death in the fire. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Ingrid gets harassed by Edmund. In this life, I choose to grant Ingrid and Edmund's wish of staying together.

In the second year after dropping out of school, I decide to cosplay as a dancer and stage a chance encounter with my husband, Don Vincenzo Rossi, in order to give him a surprise. However, I happen to run into my old classmates in the club. When they see me pole dancing in a skimpy outfit, they burst into laughter immediately. Tatiana Lazzari, the one who's throwing the party and was my former bully at school, mocks me for being a lowly, slutty bitch. My ex-boyfriend, Cristian Paleno, who had cheated on me with Tatiana back then, has his brows drawn into a tight frown. He seems to feel sorry for me. "If you didn't insist on breaking up with me back then, Aria, you wouldn't have gotten reduced to having to work as a stripper." In order to spice up the party, they drag me into their private room and force me to strip in front of them. When I reject them, they dump all sorts of alcohol and beverages onto my exposed skin and my thin, skimpy clothes. Then, they force me to kneel between Cristian's legs in submission. As Cristian leans in close to my ear, I can see the lust brimming in his eyes. "Come back to me, Aria. Otherwise, you can only remain as a horny bitch for the rest of your life." Out of sheer jealousy and rage, Tatiana kicks me in the gut right away. That's when Vincenzo hurries to my side and scoops me into his arms. By then, I'm in so much pain that I'm all curled up. He then glares at everyone else, whose faces have gone white from terror. "How dare you harm my wife and our unborn child! You can forget about leaving this room today!"

Before I married Gavin Whitaker, his mother put me through a so-called premarital obedience test. She made me kneel and serve tea to the entire family, so I knelt. She made me walk barefoot across a reflexology path to prove my "resilience". I went through it. She made me sign a prenuptial agreement stating that if we ever divorced, I would leave with nothing. I signed. Throughout it all, Gavin watched coldly from the sidelines. All he said was, "Sienna, don’t make a big deal out of this. Just bear with it. These are our family’s rules." I smiled and nodded, even as tears slid down my face. The final test came without warning. His mother slapped me hard across the face. "If you marry into this family, you need to understand what humility means." I didn’t move. However, upstairs in the study, where Gavin was in the middle of a video conference, he suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood and collapsed. He clutched his face and stared at me in terror. [System Notification: You and Gavin Whitaker have successfully bound to the Empathy Sync System. From this moment on, all harm inflicted upon the host will be experienced in full by the other party.]

In my previous life, my boyfriend's younger sister came to the CT room for a check-up. As always, I asked the routine questions about whether she was pregnant or planning to be within the next six months. After all, CT scans involve radiation. It could harm the fetus. She had confidently said no. However, when I handed her the consent form to sign, her face suddenly changed. She immediately pulled out her phone and called my boyfriend, claiming I was putting on airs and making things difficult for her. Soon after, my boyfriend called me. “Don’t make things difficult with my sister over something so trivial. You’re putting me in the middle. I swear on my life she’s not pregnant!” Trusting him, I skipped the consent form and went ahead with the scan. However, the results clearly showed she was pregnant, and not just newly. His family dragged me into court. I lost everything, buried under debt. In the end, I died from the scorching heat while hauling bricks at a construction site. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day his sister came in for her check-up.