Why We Sleep

This is my 18th time coming to City Hall, yet Tessa's still nowhere to be seen. Right as I'm about to call and ask her how much longer she'll be, her childhood friend's post popped up on my screen. "Celebrating 1000 days of marriage with my wife. May we always be this happy." The photo highlights a marriage certificate, and Tessa Cross' name is right there under "wife". As for the license date, it shows February 14th, three years ago. So this is why she hasn't shown up the last eighteen times. It turns out that she's already somebody else's wife.

My husband, Ethan Parker, brought our daughter on a trip to the countryside with his first love, Mandy Sanchez. Halfway through, he abandoned our little girl and left with Mandy. When our daughter was surrounded by wolves, I could not reach him. By the time I arrived, the car was empty—the only thing left behind was a bloodstained piece of pumpkin pie. As I was dealing with my grief, Ethan finally answered his phone. "We're celebrating Thanksgiving. Why are you ruining the mood?" I internally scoffed at that man's audacity. Well, happy holidays indeed! Let me deliver a bloody pumpkin pie for you to really get into the spirit.

Grace read the content of the tweet with trembling lips, and a hoarse voice almost choking, or did she know why she could be like that, there was clearly a feeling of horror that ran through her body as she read the tweet. The tweet is "Thank you to my friends who have cursed at me, hopefully we will meet again letter. The path i take is God's way." For a moment the were silent, no one dared to make a sound. Their lips seemed to be sewn up hard to open, they look each other, it wasn't the vengeful it used to be, but one filled with horror. As if something was telling them that a terrible event had happend, let's just say it was a hunch.

On the day I died, my boyfriend was with another woman. He was a man I had rescued from the clutches of rich women. My condition was for him to be my boyfriend for three years, and he agreed. I showered him with money, resources, and connections, single-handedly making him famous. Yet, while he told me we could not date publicly, he casually engaged in fake romance rumors with others for publicity. One of his rumored girlfriends even came to me with a voice message. "If it weren’t for using her as a stepping stone, who would bother with someone so dull and boring?" But after I died, why did he go mad?

To ensure fairness, my daughter said that she would draw lots to choose whose family to spend the New Year’s with every year. However, for the past nine years, she had spent the New Year’s with her in-laws. The latest draw was no different. On New Year’s Eve, my daughter gave me specific instructions. “Mom, we’re spending the New Year’s with my in-laws. We’ve made a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in town. Please help me save some money. You can just make some food at home for your dinner.” Hence, on New Year’s Eve, I ate alone while watching TV at home. When I stood up, I accidentally knocked over the raffle box. All the lots inside the box had my daughter’s handwriting. The words ‘in-laws’ were clearly written on every single one of them. For the past ten years, the lots had been fake. My daughter was willingly spending the New Year’s celebration with her in-laws, and she had never once thought of spending it with me, her biological mother, who had spent so much money on her. At the same time, I got a notification on my phone. Her mother-in-law posted something on social media. [My daughter-in-law is so lovely. She bought me so many gifts and chose to spend the New Year’s with us. It’s as if she’s our own daughter!] They smiled brightly in the video. On the table were gifts that she bought using my retirement fund. I did not sleep for the whole night. The next morning, I called the bank. “Please remove all the auto-debit accounts from my retirement account.” From then on, I would only spend my money on myself.

My boyfriend's "best female friend" was angry again. Why? Because for our five-year anniversary, he got a gift just for me—and forgot about hers. Simone Baker threw a complete fit, sobbing and making a huge scene. Scott Tanner immediately blocked me and removed me on Instagram, then changed our matching couple profile pictures. "Girls can be so dramatic," he said. "Once I've calmed her down, we'll switch them back." I reminded him, "That makes a hundred times now." He just smiled and gave me a quick kiss. "I know. I'll make it fast this time." That night, Simone posted a status update: [Your effort was acceptable. You get three days of freedom.] Almost immediately, Scott unblocked me. [Okay, babe. We can put our couple pictures back now.] But then a male account—using my half of the matching photo—sent him a friend request, followed by a single question mark. [Since when are couple photos a group project?]

Devin King was my first—well, everything. They say you never forget your first. Whoever said that was right because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get him out of my head or my heart. I foolishly thought my heart wouldn’t miss what it couldn’t see, but I was wrong because I never forgot, not for one moment. You’re not supposed to kiss your best friend. You’re not supposed to give your virginities to one another, either—but we did. We were kids, teenagers, full of hormones and mixed emotions, but it felt right. He was the first boy to kiss me, the first boy to touch me and taste me in a way only a lover would. “Say you want to be mine….” He whispered while I shook in his arms. And I did. And then he wrecked me. After I trusted him and gave myself to him, he disappeared, left me in my , the scent of him still lingering on my skin, the taste of his kiss still fresh on my lips. He left me after the amazing night we shared after we became one another’s and disappeared without a word. Until one day ten years later he pops up like a rash as the newly appointed CEO of our firm. Was I shocked to see him standing in the office after a decade? Yes. Did I almost faint? Hell yes. My heart may have melted a little when he smiled right at me, but he wouldn’t ever know that—because I hated him. But here I am, the VP of an established publication firm standing in the CEO’s office handcuffed to the pompous face. Why are we handcuffed you ask? Well, that's a funny story...

My lips...p**sy lips... were reluctant to spread open because of the slick smeared between them. He placed two of his big hands on my arched knees and separated them. My thighs jiggled and I moaned. His c**k was so fat. I could feel the mighty weight when he dropped it on my c*nt. And just when he was about to slide his tip inside me, I held his c*ck and he looked at me, wondering why I was stopping him all of a sudden. Then I said, "Not yet. We'll go after whoever's reading this starts reading the book,"

When love is twisted by witchcraft, only destiny can break the spell. __________ “She’s ours, Zade—everything we’ve ever wanted and she’s actually here. I can’t lose her.” My voice cracked at the end. I felt ashamed. I was an Alpha and I couldn’t mark my mate. In all of history I’d never heard of such a thing. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. No one has. Everyone I had indirectly asked, who had found their mate, didn't have a problem marking their mate once they found her. So why's my case any different?

I jolt awake to splash of ice cold water making contact with my warm skin and ripping me from my dreams. Looking up I see my perpetrator and best friend Bailey giggling, and holding a now half-emptied bucket. “Wake up loser! Last day on the beach and you choose to sleep?” I roll my eyes in annoyance at her bubbly enthusiasm. “Alright I’ll get in for a bit but I’m not going to stay long,” I state with a huff. We each grab a floatie and make our way waist deep before hopping on and linking arms to keep from drifting apart. “Are you excited to be heading back tomorrow? I know I am!” Bailey quipped. Honestly I’d been avoiding that thought the whole trip. Returning to our pack was the last thing I wanted to think about. This week at the beach had been the calm environment I desperately needed after senior year. Returning would mean I would have to finally confront the drama that has become my life the last three months. All through high school I kept my head down, focusing on my team and training. Despite keeping to myself there was always one person stirring sh*t up, my ex, Austin. His father, the Alpha to our pack, gave his life in one of the pack battles last year. Leaving his Luna to raise Austin and his sister on her own. Austin would now be eligible for the Alpha title which worried me. Up until we left he had shown blatant disrespect to my father, Beta to our pack. Not to mention he still had his eyes and ears on me. Returning was the last thing I had on my mind, knowing sh*t is about to hit the fan.