Twd Beth Dies Novels & Stories

She looked at Beth. "He's been trying and you can testify to that." "What I don't get is, why are you pushing him away?" Marcella asked. Beth's eyes travelled from face to face and their eyes were all trained on her face, waiting for an answer. Sighing heavily, she averted her eyes and looked heavenward. After a few moments of silence, she admitted, "Because he is Brandon Wade." "He has always been Brandon Wade," Sherlie reminded softly. Beth inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, feeling her chest expand and contract from the action.

The fact that there was no alarm in her tone or body language, confirmed some of Wade’s suspicions. “As a matter of fact, I am,” Wade responded, unmoved. “Maybe you can help me out here, Beth. Who’s the sleeping beauty?” He added and pointed at Boris on the ground. Bethany was in no mood for humor but neither was Wade. He had smelled something fishy but now he realized that it had all gone to hell. “You’re not supposed to be here, officer,” Bethany said in a threatening tone. Wade scoffed.

Conrad looked at the photo on the tombstone icily and held her waist. “No, let’s go home.” Fia didn’t force it and was about to leave with Conrad. Suddenly, Beth, who was held by a few people, ran over with a knife in her hand. She screamed, “Die with Esme!” The knife didn’t touch Fia at all as Conrad easily knocked it out of her hand. Just as they were screaming and yelling, he grabbed Beth by the throat. Conrad’s amber eyes were frozen cold, and his voice was like winter’s breath. “You have a death wish, don't you?!”

Both Sergio and Maria were buried next to each other. "They were really great together, it's a shame that they only got a short time to be together," Richard said sadly, wiping his damp eyes. Miguel and I laid our bouquets down and I closed my eyes to say a prayer. Miguel's eyes were watering as he knelt down and closed his eyes. I placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly as I cursed the fate bitches in my mind

It’s something I took for granted so many times before. I push the front door open, the familiar creak echoing in the quiet apartment. My heart pounds as I step inside, the weight of everything that happened still clinging to me. Beth is in the sitting room. When she sees me, she stands up. She looks sad, and I want to ask her what’s wrong, but then imagine that she’s probably sad because of Thomas. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Bardwell,” she claims. “He was such a nice man.”