Chapter 128
Third–person POV
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Marlene sat in the dimly lit room, the glow of the screen illuminating her face as she watched the video
of Amber’s ident, the images ying out in a never–ending loop. Her eyes were zed over with a
manic intensity as she reyed the moment of impact, finding a perverse sense of joy in the
destruction that unfolded before her eyes.
As the video yed on, Marlene’s fingernails absentmindedly picked at the skin of her palm, a nervous
tic that had be more pronounced in her moments of heightened emotion. Her breaths came in
shallow gasps, her mind consumed by a twisted fixation on the sight of Amber’s car tumbling helplessly
a cruel smile ying on her lips as she whispered, “Die, die, die,” like an incantation that echoed
in the stillness of the room.
Dark circles ringed in her bloodshot eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights she had experienced in
the past few days while obsessing over her vendetta against her older sister.
Ever since Ang’s call informing her of the sessful attempt on Amber’s life, Marlene has been
consumed by a single–minded obsession with seeing her sister’s demise, a deep–seated desire for
closure that gnawed at her like a festering wound.
Her people had been dispatched to gather information on Amber’s condition, their sole purpose being
to bring her news of the one thing Marlene craved above all else: confirmation of Amber’s death. To
Marlene, only with Amber’s death came the promise of peace and vindication, a beautiful end that she
believed would finally free her from the suffocating weight of her sister’s existence.
But as she watched the video, a drop of blood sttered onto the screen of her phone, and a sudden
jolt of pain broke through her manic reverie. Marlene’s gaze dropped to her hand, her eyes widening
in shock as she saw the raw, bloody spot where her fingers had dug into her flesh with unrelenting
force, driven by a primal urge to see Amber’s demisee to fruition.
A surge of rage swept through her, a primal fury that pulsed through her veins like wildfire. “She’s not
dead yet, she’s not dead yet, Marlene chanted, the words a frenzied litany that reverberated through
the room, a fevered mantra that fueled her mounting anger.
The realization that Amber could still be very much alive, like a thorn in her side, stoked the
mes of Marlene’s wrath, driving her to the brink of madness as she grappled with the twisted
Marlene stood in the center of her room, her chest heaving with a vtile mix of rage and despair.
Without warning, she snatched her phone from the bed and hurled it across the room with a guttural
scream, the device shattering against the far wall with a resounding crash.
In a frenzied frenzy, Marlene’s actions escted, her manic energy driving her to unleash chaos on her
surroundings. With wild abandon, she seized anything within reach–cosmetics, pillows, perfumes,
flower vases–and sent them flying across the room in a whirlwind of destruction.
The air grew thick with the
a fevered chant, “Die, Am Ound of shattering ss and splintering wood as Marlene’s voice rose in
a fevered chant, “Die, Amber, die, die, die,” a chilling litany of hatred that echoed off the walls.
Tears streamed down her face unchecked, mingling with the streaks of rage that painted her cheeks as
she continued on an outrage. Her cries grew louder, a desperate plea for release from the torment that
gripped her soul as she wailed.
“I can’t find peace until you’re dead, Amber!” She screamed, her voice shaky with anger.
In a sudden, jarring motion, Marlene’s body convulsed, her hands reaching out in a frantic grasp as she
copsed to her knees and crawled beneath her bed. Shadows danced in the dim light, casting twisted
shapes across the room as Marlene’s mind yed cruel tricks on her fractured psyche.
Amber’s spectral form materialized before her, a taunting sight that haunted Marlene’s every waking
moment. The sound of mockingughter filled the room, a cruel echo that reverberated in the empty
spaces of her mind as Amber’s voice twisted with malice, calling Marlene a coward, a failure, a
wretched creature unworthy of love or redemption.
Marlene’s screams pierced the air, a cacophony of raw anguish as she struck out blindly, her hands
beating against her skull in a desperate bid to silence the tormenting voices that echoed in her ears.
The weight of Amber’s cruel words bore down on her like a crushing weight, threatening to drag her
into the depths of her own self–loathing.
Amidst the chaos of her hallucinations, a glint of light caught Marlene’s eye–a shattered shard of ss
that was within reach. In that moment, she felt a sense of helplessness hit her hard as she reached for
the ss shard, with words of self–deprecation tumbling from her lips: “I don’t deserve to live; I’m not
worthy.”
As the voices grew louder, urging her to the verge of giving up, Marlene’s grip tightened around the
ss, the sharp edge cutting into her skin as she held it close to her wrist and was about to let it tear
into her flesh. But in the final, fleeting moment before she sumbed to the darkness that
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threatened to consume her, a spark of realization flickered in her eyes.
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Coming to her senses at thest minute, Marlene threw the ss away, the shard ttering to the
floor as it dawned on her what she could have done to herself again.
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In her moment of rity, she’d recall Amber’s words to her a few months ago, “I’ll make you
Start
cutting yourself again, just like the good old days,” and realize that, true to Amber’s words, she
had almost cut herself again, just like she had done a few times when she was younger.
Tears would immediately start streaming profusely down her cheeks as she crumpled to the ground,
her ragged sobs mingling with the echoes of Amber’s voice, mocking her in a way that tormented her.
Her loud sobbing echoed through the room, and tears streamed down her cheeks, her heart aching
with a
pain that consumed her whole being.
And just when she felt both physically and emotionally battered, a loud knock reverberated through the
room, jolting Marlene out of her despair. She struggled to push herself off the floor, her
trembling limbs refusing to obey her.
Tiredly, she wed her way toward the door, her movements slow andbored. Reaching the door at
last, Marlene’s chest heaved with exertion as she stretched out a weary hand to unlock it.
Before she could even utter a word of invitation, the door flew open, and her mother, Mary, walked in
with a concerned look on her face.
Mary’s eyes widened in surprise at the scene that greeted her–the sight of her daughter huddled on the
floor, looking like the most miserable version of herself. “Marlene, what’s… what’s happening? What is
wrong with you?” she questioned worriedly.
Wild–eyed and consumed by rage all over again at the sight of her mother, Marlene charged toward
Mary with frightening speed, her voice a furious scream of usation that pierced the deafening
silence
of the room.
“It’s all your fault! You ruined me!” She yelled angrily with tears streaming down her face.
Mary’s eyes widened in shock, a/gasp escaping her lips as she recoiled from her daughter’s sudden
usation. Before she could evenprehend what was happening, Marlene’s hands shot out with
startling force, her fingers curling around her mother’s throat.
A strangled cry escaped Mary’s lips, her eyes wide with horror as she felt the pressure of Marlene’s
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startling force, her fingers curling around her mother’s throat.
A strangled cry escaped Mary’s lips, her eyes wide with horror as she felt the pressure of Marlene’s
grip slowly choking the life out of her.
“Marlene, stop! Please, stop!” Mary’s words were choked, her plea to Marlene to stop hurting her
falling on deaf ears, as Marlene’s grip tightened and her eyes were as emotionless and void as those
of an outraged and mentally unstable person.