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Where Reality Ends

Where Reality Ends

Gavin

5.0
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11
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My SATs were today, the day that felt like it decided my entire future. But then my phone buzzed with an unknown number, displaying a chilling message: "DON'T TAKE THE EXAM!" It was Michael, my older brother, who'd vanished three years ago on the morning of his own SATs. Another warning followed: "THEY AREN'T WHO YOU THINK." Suddenly, my parents' overly cheerful demeanor felt sinister, their familiar faces hiding subtle, unsettling changes. My dad wore his wedding ring on the wrong hand, and my mom' s distinct scar was now on the opposite brow. Every word they spoke, every gesture, screamed that something was terribly wrong. When I finally tried to escape, a long-time family friend, Ethan, ambushed me with a devastating truth: Michael was dead. He claimed it was suicide, and that I was suffering from a severe PTSD-induced dissociative episode, hallucinating everything. My heart pounded as I watched a video of Michael' s funeral, my phone now empty of all his warnings. Was I crazy? Was this elaborate nightmare all in my head, a cruel trick of my own mind? But then, a specific, unspoken childhood promise between Michael and me-a secret about a monster and a particular trip-failed to match. That's when I knew: This "recovery" was another layer of control, a sophisticated simulation orchestrated by the very person pretending to help. I wouldn't let him win.

Introduction

My SATs were today, the day that felt like it decided my entire future.

But then my phone buzzed with an unknown number, displaying a chilling message: "DON'T TAKE THE EXAM!"

It was Michael, my older brother, who'd vanished three years ago on the morning of his own SATs.

Another warning followed: "THEY AREN'T WHO YOU THINK."

Suddenly, my parents' overly cheerful demeanor felt sinister, their familiar faces hiding subtle, unsettling changes.

My dad wore his wedding ring on the wrong hand, and my mom' s distinct scar was now on the opposite brow.

Every word they spoke, every gesture, screamed that something was terribly wrong.

When I finally tried to escape, a long-time family friend, Ethan, ambushed me with a devastating truth: Michael was dead.

He claimed it was suicide, and that I was suffering from a severe PTSD-induced dissociative episode, hallucinating everything.

My heart pounded as I watched a video of Michael' s funeral, my phone now empty of all his warnings.

Was I crazy? Was this elaborate nightmare all in my head, a cruel trick of my own mind?

But then, a specific, unspoken childhood promise between Michael and me-a secret about a monster and a particular trip-failed to match.

That's when I knew: This "recovery" was another layer of control, a sophisticated simulation orchestrated by the very person pretending to help.

I wouldn't let him win.

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My Heiress Life, My System

My Heiress Life, My System

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Chapter 1 of my life was a fairy tale: Jocelyn Todd, orphan no more, adopted by the wealthy Scott family and about to marry a charming scion. My engagement party was a lavish spectacle, a testament to the love and affection I' d finally found. Standing beside my "protective" older brother, Andrew, watching my fiancé Ethan across the lawn, I finally felt loved, complete. But then, as I took my first step towards my future, my world fractured. Bright, glowing text flooded my vision, overlaying the perfect scene: "LOL, she' s actually crying. A few worthless stock certificates and she' s totally fooled. So naive." My family' s affectionate smiles transformed into chilling masks as I read on, discovering their monstrous plan. The year of love was a performance, and I was merely a prop to boost their "Likeability Score." Once official, they'd frame me for a corporate crime, strip me of everything, and dispose of me, all to benefit Gabby, their real "daughter." The warmth in my chest turned to ice. They weren't just betraying me; they were orchestrating my destruction. My "parents," "brother," and fiancé-all in on it. They saw me as a disposable pawn, intended for a tragic, convenient "accident." The thought of facing this chilling reality, alone and betrayed, was paralyzing. But then, a defiant spark ignited. My tears weren't of gratitude anymore, but of cold, hard resolve. I still clutched the portfolio of "worthless" stock, and a new comment flashed: "The certificates are fakes!..." It was all a lie. I took a deep breath, the trembling in my voice purely intentional. "Before we make it official," I smiled sweetly, holding up the portfolio, "could we have the family lawyer notarize this transfer right now?" The panic on their faces, the sudden plummet of their "score," confirmed everything. My supposed doom was their control. This wasn't merely survival; it was war.

The Angel Who Burned: A Small Town's Inferno

The Angel Who Burned: A Small Town's Inferno

Short stories

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Sarah Miller was the epitome of small-town success: valedictorian, destined for a full scholarship at State University, a beacon of hope. Everyone in our tight-knit community called her an angel, a ray of sunshine, always with a bright smile. Just hours after delivering a graduation speech full of dreams, she was supposed to be celebrating with friends and family. But as the community hall burned, its roof collapsing in a fiery roar, Sarah stood across the street, motionless, her face illuminated by the inferno. The smell of burning wood, and something else, something sickening, filled the air, as sparks flew like angry fireflies. When Officer Kowski grabbed her arm, she showed no fear, only an unsettling calm, soot smeared on her hands. Then, she whispered the chilling words: "They all deserved to die." Her parents, reeling from disbelief, watched their daughter admit to mass murder, their tears mingling with raw, ragged pain. The town, still mourning their "heroes"-Pastor David, Mr. Henderson-couldn't reconcile the angelic Sarah with the monster she confessed to being. Her subsequent suicide attempt in her cell only deepened the mystery, pills traced back to Henderson's private stash. The discovery of burned journal fragments suggested hidden truths, a desperate, unspoken anguish. What unspeakable evil could turn a scholarship-bound valedictorian into a mass murderer? How could the very men lauded as benefactors, who "loved her like their own daughter," inspire such cold, vengeful fire? The town saw kindness and support, but Sarah' s hollow whisper of "Care?" hinted at an unimaginable betrayal. What dark secret did this 'angel' carry, hidden beneath years of forced smiles and perfect grades? Then, Sarah finally shattered the silence, not with tears, but with a guttural scream: "They deserved it! They all deserved it!" And the terrifying, heartbreaking story, a torrent of buried pain, began to pour out, revealing the true horrors lurking beneath their idyllic small town.

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