Novel & Cerita The Unthinkable Happens Novel

Anabia's POV I woke up with the worst headache ever... I looked at my surroundings and I found myself in an unfamiliar place. Where am I?? I tried to move myself but I realized that my hands and feet were tied to the chair with rope. I scanned around the room, the room was dark and messy. The only light I could see was coming from the large window which was on the opposite side of the wall. Am I going to die...? Millions of thoughts were popping in my mind... it must be Aidan who kidnapped me.. but what he wanted.

VALERIA "Oh my goodness, oh my goodness," I kept chanting as we entered the car. I couldn't believe all that had just transpired. I knew that the news had spread out; everything was definitely plastered on the news. I hadn't mentally prepared for this. I didn't even think that everyone would know this way. What if my sister saw it on the news? "Shit!" I exclaimed.

I know everyone is talking about what happened yesterday and I know, they will continue to talk about it until the next big thing happens. When I make my way to my locker, and when I put in the code and once its open, there is a loud pop and suddenly, I feel cold and wet, and I am covered in something cold and sticky. When I look down at myself, I am covered in. I don’t know what the hell this crap is, but it is horrible, it smells awful and its so sticky.

"Kylie Thornton! Do you even know what Stella's been going through? She's in agony every day! And you—her own mother—just gave away her lifeline. "Do you actually want her to die?!" "That little drama queen's not my daughter. It's just a minor illness. She'll live. She's just like you—always playing the victim. Evan's surgery's done. Quit dreaming. If she dies, then let her." Click. She hung up. The kidney was gone. Evan had it. Stella never would. That truth caved in my chest. I dropped to the floor and broke.

They all stared at me, eyes wide with fear like they were waiting for me to explode. My head throbbed so badly I flinched reaching to touch the side of my head but when I pulled away I saw a trace of blood. My chest tightened. None of this made sense. The last thing I remembered was running—no, sprinting—into the highway, my father and Malcolm chasing after me. Then I remember stopping as blinding lights from a car hit my eyes. Then came the sound of screeching tires. Then I died. No one could have survived that.

A clean, contained thing. I looked at the boy arranging marshmallows into a pattern only he understood. I looked at the man sitting quietly across from me, one thumb tracing the rim of his mug. I took a sip of the hot chocolate, warm and slightly too sweet and exactly right, and understood, for the first time since stepping off that plane, that the thing I had been escaping toward had already shifted into something I hadn't planned for at all. I wasn't sure yet whether that was frightening or the opposite of it.

The shield had held, but it had been struck a terrifying blow. Strom carefully disarmed the shaped charge, his movements precise. He then moved to Jonathan Bryce, who offered no resistance as Strom secured his hands with a zip-tie. The old man was catatonic, his fingers still tracing the edge of the broken frame, his world reduced to a square of glass and a lost future. The immediate, apocalyptic threat was over. They stood amidst the humming servers, the victors of a battle fought in ducts and lines of code, a victory that tasted of antiseptic mist and fear.

She ultimately didn't know how to act, how to breathe, or how to even define what had suddenly just happened. It was so fast, yet so profoundly shocking, that she couldn't even identify if it was real. Wide-eyed and breathless, she sat in the dim interior of the vehicle, her mind spinning in absolute chaos as she questioned her own senses. Was she dreaming? Had that kiss really just happened? Antonia offered one last, gentle smile, opened the car door, and stepped out into the cool night. As the luxury SUV finally sped away into the dark—carrying a completely dysfunctional, red-faced campus tyrant who forgot how to breathe—Antonia walked toward her front door.

" After Patricia hung up, Grace remained there staring at her phone for a long time. After three years of silence, her father decided to shatter it by writing a book about her experience without requesting permission. Worse, he may be divulging information that could put her and Max in danger again. She was still sitting there when Max came home from work, gazed at her face, and immediately went into panic mode. "What happened?" he inquired, dropping his bag and sitting next to her. "My father wrote a book." "That's... good?" "About Derek. About us. Regarding how the FBI handled our case." Max's demeanor changed from perplexed to alarmed. "What kind of book?" "This is a memoir." With three p

I said while holding the book, I was really shocked at what was happening now, causing me to sit on the couch. My overthinking is really bad because I think it will come true oh maybe it won't. I don't know, I was holding my head while staring at the diary. I don't want to think what I'm thinking now because of my brain. Did Clark k*ll him? Did Clark kill Zak?! "N-no, t-this can't be happening." stammering as if to say, I was about to open the book when I heard a hug coming from above. Quickly put it in the bag and stand up again then close the bag.