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My Psycho Stepson and me

Lesly was just your typical kind of sadistic high school gym teacher, having her idyllic life disturbed when she was taken away by this strange butler, who informed her about her being the true heiress of a fallen family.  That wasn't all; he was asking her to sign the papers to marry a husband whom she had never met before. Normally, she would have run away and reported them to the police—if it weren't for them threatening her with the (for her) most important hostage. On her first day in the villa of her new husband, she barged in on her stepson, intertwined with a brunette girl, not stopping to do the deed just because of her presence. Clearly a psycho. Next was the husband, who enticed her with money if she stayed for a year, slept in his bed, and played his wife.  Lesly decided to go through with it for the good ol' money - however, after being introduced properly to her psycho stepson with ravishingly handsome looks, she had a feeling that things in this house would develop in a dangerous direction. And she should be proven right. First Volume: 'The Burning Man' is finished! I am going on hiatus with this because it was a hell of a ride for me as well. I think the big unveiling is done now, and I hope I answered most of the questions. I have a few ideas in mind for the second volume, but I wanted to write something new. The author is unpredictable, so maybe I take it on tomorrow again, but right now, I don't know. Thanks for all your support! (*ˊᗜˋ*)/ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ*

Chay007 · 都市
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134 Chs

112. The forest

"Explain. Tell me everything you know." The voice lured me into speaking about the chaotic thoughts, feelings, and emotions that were inside me, partly accessible, partly not, partly presenting themselves, partly rejected by me.

But the moment I was asked where it was that I came from, where the original me emerged from, where I was born from, I could answer it clearly; it was the forest.

"I remember not being alone, and we moved. Like in here…" The memory wasn't threatening—easy to talk about because I was not me who spoke; these lips moving were not mine; my listener was not from my own world.

"A car?" The voice asked casually, but I could hear care and concern in it.

"Yes."

"Someone drove you somewhere?"

"Yes." I nodded.

"Then there was, the places moved, and something changed."

The voice hummed.

"You left the car."

"Yes, and then I didn't feel well; I wanted to roll up, and my body shook."

"You were cold?"