TrueLoveKiss
1 Published Story
TrueLoveKiss's Book and Story
Along with the Murderer
LGBT+ From writer to readers
Hello, I'm TrueLoveKiss. This book is going the second novel that I've written ^ ^.
Firstly, I have to put a trigger warning right here before leading you all to the story. Because there are some parts in this book that you may need discretion the read. Secondly, this book has parts that describe about committed suicide, manslaughter, kidnapping, physical abuse, sexual intercourse, and violence. Lastly, his book could be one of the Dark Fantasy which was made for those who are interested in this kind of book.
I've written this book just for entertainment. The story inside of the book including the characters wasn’t real and not existing in the real world. Only read for the entertainment do not imitate.
........................................................................................................
"Human, when they are at the breaking point.
They can become anything and could do everything.
But is that breaking point reasonable enough
to turn a good person into a cold-blooded murderer?
That's it."
........................................................................................................
Jarette: A demented man who has OSDD-1a and Borderline Personality Disorder. His early adulthood was doing fine, just like the others.
While his life was ongoing, an unexpected incident had happened. He became a murderer and killed two victims in revenge. But while he was kidnapping the second victim. Someone had become his witness.
Gared: student in a university who's going to graduate in a few months later.
One day he had become a captive of the demented murderer because he witnesses the kidnapping of the murderer's second victim. Even so, the victim he was trying to help was killed right before his eyes by the cold-blooded murderer. And was threatened him… “If you try to escape and tell anybody about this incident. You're going to end up like that prostitute.”
You might like
Seven Years, A Shattered Promise
Gavin On the giant screen in Times Square, Chloe Davis, radiant in red, slammed the gavel, and "Davis Innovations" exploded in green numbers. I stood in the crowd, a ghost she couldn't see, having spent seven years in her shadow, building her dream, waiting for the promise she' d made: "It will be you and me, Alex."
Then, a reporter' s question boomed from the speakers: "Rumors of an engagement?" Chloe' s smile widened, one I knew for magazine covers, never reaching her eyes. "The rumors are true," she said, her voice smooth as glass. "I'm engaged to Ethan Hayes. He's my rock." My world dissolved.
I walked away, calling her back later. "Don't be difficult," she said. "I was going to tell you." When I arrived at the sterile penthouse, she walked in with Ethan Hayes. "I made that soup for him," she whispered, pointing to the stove. "His stomach is sensitive. You're a survivor, Alex. You'll be fine without me. But he… he only has me." Then the final blow: "I need you to move out. I'll have a check cut for you. For your… contribution."
"What else would it be about?" she asked, genuinely confused when I laughed, crumbling the five-million-dollar check she offered as payment for seven years of my life. She thought everything had a price. As she fielded a call about flower orders, Ethan flashed a flicker of triumph, a cold calculation that revealed the "fragile" boy was a predator who had won.
But I finally saw the omega symbol on Ethan's collar – my symbol. The one from the necklace she wore, then gave to him. The rage solidified into something colder. "Keep your money, Chloe," I said, letting the check fall. "But there is something of mine I want back." Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal
Gavin The call came at 7:05 PM on our tenth wedding anniversary.
My husband, David, was in an accident.
At the hospital, he was awake, but a young woman, his assistant Chloe, was holding his hand, acting like his wife.
When I walked in, he looked at me, a blank stranger' s stare, then asked, "Who are you?"
He laughed when I said I was his wife, then demanded security remove me, while Chloe, smiling, pretended to cry.
It wasn't just memory loss; it was a cruel, targeted erasure.
I tried proof, the marriage certificate, but he pushed it away as "just a piece of paper."
Then Chloe waltzed in with his favorite soup, and he defended her when I confronted her.
"She' s the only one who' s been here for me!" he screamed.
He snarled that I was "exhausted, haggard," compared to Chloe, who was "kind and gentle."
My wedding ring, a symbol of our forever, flew from my hand as he slapped it away, clinking under the bed.
"Don' t come back," he said, turning his back on me to comfort Chloe.
Later, I learned why: he had been having an affair with Chloe, his mother's 65th birthday ruined by his absence and her answering his phone.
My world shattered when Mark Johnson, David's estranged best friend, told me what David said: "The fake amnesia was a stroke of genius, right? A clean break."
My husband had faked a brain injury to throw me away.
A car hit me, sending me to the hospital, and I knew what I had to do.
When Mark came in, I looked at him, my face blank, then asked, "Are you… my husband?"