In the thriller "Bad Daughter", Vivian Donovan's life unravels as Detective Sarah Blake uncovers a web of secrets and lies. Who will survive the deadly game of deception?
-
The site has now migrated to Xenforo 2. If you see any issues with the forum operation, please post them in the feedback thread.
-
An addendum to Rule 3 regarding fan-translated works of things such as Web Novels has been made. Please see here for details.
-
RIP @Silver Swallow
-
Due to issues with external spam filters, QQ is currently unable to send any mail to Microsoft E-mail addresses. This includes any account at live.com, hotmail.com or msn.com. Signing up to the forum with one of these addresses will result in your verification E-mail never arriving. For best results, please use a different E-mail provider for your QQ address.
-
The rules regarding NSFW links have been updated. See here for details.
Bad Daughter
- Thread starter accuscripter
- Start date
-
- Tags
- thriller
- Created
- Status
- Incomplete
- Watchers
- 7
- Recent readers
- 82
- Threadmarks
- 8
-
Statistics (8 threadmarks, 8.8k words)
User Total accuscripter 8
Bad Daughter: Chapter 1
New
accuscripter
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Apr 2, 2025
- Messages
- 21
- Likes received
- 17
As she entered her apartment, the faint metallic scent hit her, a sharp and unpleasant tang that sent a shiver down her spine. She hesitated, the unfamiliar smell unsettling in the place she considered her sanctuary. She locked the door behind her with trembling fingers, the click of the lock sounding unusually loud in the oppressive silence. She reached out to find the socket on the foyer wall, her fingertips brushing against the cool, smooth surface.
The darkness was thick and enveloping, making the familiar layout of her home feel strange and alien. Every step she took felt uncertain, her heart pounding in her chest as she fumbled for the light switch. The metallic scent grew stronger, more pungent, as if it were seeping into her very pores.
It was all unusual, but it was not all unusual for her, she knew what she was walking into. As she walked forward, her foot landed on something soft and yielding. She froze, her breath catching in her throat. Panic surged through her veins, her body reacting instinctively to the unexpected sensation. In the pitch darkness, she couldn't see what she had stepped on, but the feel of it under her foot was enough to send her spiraling into fear. She lost her balance, her legs giving way as she fell to the floor, the impact jarring her senses. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her mind racing to make sense of what was happening. The darkness seemed to press in around her, amplifying every sound, every sensation. She lay still for a moment, her heart pounding in her ears, before she tried to sit up, her hands shaking. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the silence, steady and deliberate. She looked up, straining to see in the dark, her eyes wide with fear. A figure emerged from the shadows, its presence marked by the bright rims of their spectacles and the unsettling gleam of its teeth. The sight was surreal, almost ghostly, as if the darkness itself had taken shape and come to life.
The figure walked over her, it footsteps were soft yet purposeful, and she felt a cold dread wash over her. The person moved with a calm confidence, unaffected by her presence on the floor. She watched, paralyzed by fear, as it reached the front door, opened it, and paused. For a brief moment, the figure looked back at her, the glint of glasses catching the faint light from the hallway outside. Then, without a word, it slipped out into the night, leaving her alone in the oppressive darkness.
The next morning, the city was abuzz with a horrifying headline: "Two Sisters Found Dead in Their Apartment." Every news channel covered the story in gruesome detail. The post-mortem revealed no signs of torture or struggle. It was as if they had simply ceased to live, leaving behind a chilling mystery.
Detective Sarah Blake stood outside the apartment building, her mind racing. She knew she had to tread carefully; this case was different. The lack of struggle, the precision—it all pointed to a calculated mind, someone who knew exactly what they were doing. As she entered the apartment, the faint metallic smell still lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the night's events.
Inside, the crime scene was eerily calm. The bodies of the two sisters lay peacefully, their faces serene as if they had just drifted off to sleep. Sarah felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that the killer was someone close, someone who understood the sisters' lives intimately.
Vivian Donovan's day began like any other. She woke up at dawn, her routine as precise as a clockwork mechanism. After a brisk morning run along the river, she returned to her penthouse apartment, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted her. The view from her window was breathtaking, the city sprawled out below, vibrant and full of life.
She dressed in a crisp, tailored suit, her movements deliberate and graceful. Breakfast was a simple affair, a smoothie packed with nutrients to fuel her busy day. Vivian was known for her discipline, her dedication to maintaining the perfect balance between work and personal life. At her office, she was the epitome of professionalism. Colleagues admired her for her sharp mind and unwavering focus. Meetings, phone calls, and emails filled her schedule, yet she managed it all with an effortless ease. Her assistant, Julia, ensured everything ran smoothly, anticipating her needs before she even voiced them.
By midday, Vivian was in full swing, negotiating deals, making decisions that could change the course of businesses. Her reputation as a formidable businesswoman was well-earned, built on years of hard work and an uncanny ability to read people. As the day wound down, she took a moment to herself, reflecting on her achievements and planning her next moves. Her evenings were reserved for social events, networking dinners, and charity galas, where she dazzled everyone with her charm and intelligence. But tonight was different. As she sipped her wine at a charity event, her mind wandered back to the headlines of the morning. The gruesome discovery of the two sisters had shaken the community. She engaged in polite conversation, her exterior calm and composed, yet inside, her thoughts raced.
Detective Blake couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something. The calmness of the crime scene, the precision—it was all too perfect. She delved into the sisters' lives, searching for clues that might lead her to the truth.
Vivian returned home late, the city's skyline twinkling like a field of stars. She settled into her plush armchair, the events of the day swirling in her mind. She knew the investigation would intensify, that the detectives would leave no stone unturned. She smiled to herself, a small, enigmatic smile. Vivian Donovan was used to staying one step ahead. The game had begun, and she was ready to play.
Now, the story of betrayal, deceit, and hidden identities will start to unfold, with secrets lurking in the shadows and a murderer moving silently among them, its true nature yet to be revealed. So stay tuned...
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on patreon.com/Accuscripter
The darkness was thick and enveloping, making the familiar layout of her home feel strange and alien. Every step she took felt uncertain, her heart pounding in her chest as she fumbled for the light switch. The metallic scent grew stronger, more pungent, as if it were seeping into her very pores.
It was all unusual, but it was not all unusual for her, she knew what she was walking into. As she walked forward, her foot landed on something soft and yielding. She froze, her breath catching in her throat. Panic surged through her veins, her body reacting instinctively to the unexpected sensation. In the pitch darkness, she couldn't see what she had stepped on, but the feel of it under her foot was enough to send her spiraling into fear. She lost her balance, her legs giving way as she fell to the floor, the impact jarring her senses. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her mind racing to make sense of what was happening. The darkness seemed to press in around her, amplifying every sound, every sensation. She lay still for a moment, her heart pounding in her ears, before she tried to sit up, her hands shaking. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the silence, steady and deliberate. She looked up, straining to see in the dark, her eyes wide with fear. A figure emerged from the shadows, its presence marked by the bright rims of their spectacles and the unsettling gleam of its teeth. The sight was surreal, almost ghostly, as if the darkness itself had taken shape and come to life.
The figure walked over her, it footsteps were soft yet purposeful, and she felt a cold dread wash over her. The person moved with a calm confidence, unaffected by her presence on the floor. She watched, paralyzed by fear, as it reached the front door, opened it, and paused. For a brief moment, the figure looked back at her, the glint of glasses catching the faint light from the hallway outside. Then, without a word, it slipped out into the night, leaving her alone in the oppressive darkness.
The next morning, the city was abuzz with a horrifying headline: "Two Sisters Found Dead in Their Apartment." Every news channel covered the story in gruesome detail. The post-mortem revealed no signs of torture or struggle. It was as if they had simply ceased to live, leaving behind a chilling mystery.
Detective Sarah Blake stood outside the apartment building, her mind racing. She knew she had to tread carefully; this case was different. The lack of struggle, the precision—it all pointed to a calculated mind, someone who knew exactly what they were doing. As she entered the apartment, the faint metallic smell still lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the night's events.
Inside, the crime scene was eerily calm. The bodies of the two sisters lay peacefully, their faces serene as if they had just drifted off to sleep. Sarah felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that the killer was someone close, someone who understood the sisters' lives intimately.
Vivian Donovan's day began like any other. She woke up at dawn, her routine as precise as a clockwork mechanism. After a brisk morning run along the river, she returned to her penthouse apartment, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted her. The view from her window was breathtaking, the city sprawled out below, vibrant and full of life.
She dressed in a crisp, tailored suit, her movements deliberate and graceful. Breakfast was a simple affair, a smoothie packed with nutrients to fuel her busy day. Vivian was known for her discipline, her dedication to maintaining the perfect balance between work and personal life. At her office, she was the epitome of professionalism. Colleagues admired her for her sharp mind and unwavering focus. Meetings, phone calls, and emails filled her schedule, yet she managed it all with an effortless ease. Her assistant, Julia, ensured everything ran smoothly, anticipating her needs before she even voiced them.
By midday, Vivian was in full swing, negotiating deals, making decisions that could change the course of businesses. Her reputation as a formidable businesswoman was well-earned, built on years of hard work and an uncanny ability to read people. As the day wound down, she took a moment to herself, reflecting on her achievements and planning her next moves. Her evenings were reserved for social events, networking dinners, and charity galas, where she dazzled everyone with her charm and intelligence. But tonight was different. As she sipped her wine at a charity event, her mind wandered back to the headlines of the morning. The gruesome discovery of the two sisters had shaken the community. She engaged in polite conversation, her exterior calm and composed, yet inside, her thoughts raced.
Detective Blake couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something. The calmness of the crime scene, the precision—it was all too perfect. She delved into the sisters' lives, searching for clues that might lead her to the truth.
Vivian returned home late, the city's skyline twinkling like a field of stars. She settled into her plush armchair, the events of the day swirling in her mind. She knew the investigation would intensify, that the detectives would leave no stone unturned. She smiled to herself, a small, enigmatic smile. Vivian Donovan was used to staying one step ahead. The game had begun, and she was ready to play.
Now, the story of betrayal, deceit, and hidden identities will start to unfold, with secrets lurking in the shadows and a murderer moving silently among them, its true nature yet to be revealed. So stay tuned...
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on patreon.com/Accuscripter
Bad Daughter: Chapter 2
New
accuscripter
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Apr 2, 2025
- Messages
- 21
- Likes received
- 17
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the sleek, modern office. Vivian Donovan was engrossed in her work, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she reviewed the latest financial reports. The hum of activity surrounded her, a constant backdrop to her focused productivity. A knock at the door pulled her from her concentration. She looked up to see Mark, one of the junior executives, standing in the doorway. He was grinning, but there was something unsettling in his eyes.
"Vivian, do you have a minute?" he asked, stepping into her office without waiting for an answer. His tone was too familiar, too confident. She nodded, motioning for him to sit. Instead, he walked around her desk, leaning in close. "You know, Vivian, I've always admired your... determination," he said, his hand brushing against her arm. Vivian's body tensed. She was no stranger to the lecherous advances of men who mistook her professionalism for something else. But Mark had crossed a line. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping the floor. "I think you should leave," she said, her voice cold and unwavering. Mark chuckled, moving closer. "Come on, Vivian. We both know you're not as tough as you pretend to be." Before he could react, Vivian grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to his knees. Her voice was a low, dangerous whisper. "If you ever touch me again, you'll regret it." She released him, and he stumbled to his feet, a mixture of fear and anger on his face. Without another word, he left the office, slamming the door behind him.
Vivian sank back into her chair, her hands shaking slightly. She had made sure Mark learned his lesson, but the encounter stirred memories she had tried to bury. That night, she fell onto her comfy sofa, tears rolling down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, and the past came rushing back.
In the chaos of that fateful night, Vivian found herself facing a man twice her size, his eyes filled with cruel intentions. She had been pushed to the brink, every ounce of her being screaming for survival. As he lunged at her, she felt something deep inside her awaken—a monstrous strength she had always harbored but never unleashed. This monster within her had been nurtured for years, feeding on the fear and anger she felt every time her father beat her mother. Those memories, etched into her psyche, had forged a resilience and a latent fury that now erupted with primal force. The man grabbed her, his grip like a vise, but Vivian's fear transformed into a focused, deadly intent. She lashed out with all her might, aiming for his most vulnerable spots. She jabbed her fingers into his eyes, blinding him temporarily. As he recoiled, she used the moment to deliver a crushing blow to his throat, cutting off his air supply.
He gasped, his hands instinctively going to his neck, and she didn't relent. She brought her knee up with brutal precision, slamming it into his groin. The man doubled over in pain, and Vivian seized the opportunity. She wrapped her hands around his neck, her thumbs pressing into his windpipe with relentless pressure. The adrenaline coursing through her veins made her stronger than she ever thought possible. She used her body weight to keep him down, squeezing with all her might. His struggles grew weaker, his gasps more desperate. She didn't let go until she felt his body go limp beneath her, the life drained from his eyes. As she stood over the lifeless body, her breath ragged and heart pounding, she caught sight of Emily.
Her best friend, who had been laughing from the shadows, suddenly stopped. The look in Emily's eyes was one of pure terror. She had never expected Vivian to fight back, let alone kill him and nor did Vivian ever thought that Emily her best friend for life would throw her infront of hideous monsters thirsty for her life. For a moment, their eyes locked. Vivian's gaze was filled with a mix of betrayal and fury, a silent condemnation of Emily's cowardice and betrayal. Emily, realizing the gravity of what had just happened, turned and fled. She disappeared into the night, her laughter replaced by the sound of her hurried footsteps. It was as if she had never been there, leaving Vivian alone with the aftermath of her desperate struggle for survival.
Vivian staggered back, her breath ragged, staring at the lifeless body before her. The monster within her had taken over, driven by the years of suppressed rage and fear. She had always known it was there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for a moment like this to break free. In the aftermath, she realized that this inner beast, born from her traumatic childhood, had saved her life. She had protected herself and her chastity, but the cost was a part of her humanity. As she looked down at the man she had killed, she knew she could never go back to who she was before. The monster was a part of her now, a dark guardian that had emerged from the shadows of her past.
Vivian wiped her tears and removed her arm from her eyes. It's been 20 years already. An awkward darkness of gloom filled the room, but a villainous smirk played on her lips. She sat upright, pouring herself a glass of grape juice from the decanter in front of her.
As she took the first sip, she whispered to herself, "Well, he deserved it." Her laughter echoed through the penthouse, a chilling reminder of the lengths she would go to protect herself.
Meanwhile, Detective Sarah Blake was tirelessly rechecking and analyzing every CCTV footage and report from the crime scene. Something was missing, a detail she couldn't quite grasp. She delved into the sisters' history, discovering that they were common workers at a local food factory.
The sisters were notorious for their vicious comments, always joking and mocking those around them. Their behavior had earned them plenty of enemies, but there was nothing that pointed directly to a motive for their murders.
Sarah rubbed her temples, frustration mounting. The sisters' habits hinted that they must have had people who hated them but finding that one person among many was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
She knew she was close, but the pieces of the puzzle refused to fit together. Determined, she pushed on, aware that time was running out and that the killer was still out there, hiding in plain sight.
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on patreon.com/Accuscripter
"Vivian, do you have a minute?" he asked, stepping into her office without waiting for an answer. His tone was too familiar, too confident. She nodded, motioning for him to sit. Instead, he walked around her desk, leaning in close. "You know, Vivian, I've always admired your... determination," he said, his hand brushing against her arm. Vivian's body tensed. She was no stranger to the lecherous advances of men who mistook her professionalism for something else. But Mark had crossed a line. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping the floor. "I think you should leave," she said, her voice cold and unwavering. Mark chuckled, moving closer. "Come on, Vivian. We both know you're not as tough as you pretend to be." Before he could react, Vivian grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to his knees. Her voice was a low, dangerous whisper. "If you ever touch me again, you'll regret it." She released him, and he stumbled to his feet, a mixture of fear and anger on his face. Without another word, he left the office, slamming the door behind him.
Vivian sank back into her chair, her hands shaking slightly. She had made sure Mark learned his lesson, but the encounter stirred memories she had tried to bury. That night, she fell onto her comfy sofa, tears rolling down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, and the past came rushing back.
In the chaos of that fateful night, Vivian found herself facing a man twice her size, his eyes filled with cruel intentions. She had been pushed to the brink, every ounce of her being screaming for survival. As he lunged at her, she felt something deep inside her awaken—a monstrous strength she had always harbored but never unleashed. This monster within her had been nurtured for years, feeding on the fear and anger she felt every time her father beat her mother. Those memories, etched into her psyche, had forged a resilience and a latent fury that now erupted with primal force. The man grabbed her, his grip like a vise, but Vivian's fear transformed into a focused, deadly intent. She lashed out with all her might, aiming for his most vulnerable spots. She jabbed her fingers into his eyes, blinding him temporarily. As he recoiled, she used the moment to deliver a crushing blow to his throat, cutting off his air supply.
He gasped, his hands instinctively going to his neck, and she didn't relent. She brought her knee up with brutal precision, slamming it into his groin. The man doubled over in pain, and Vivian seized the opportunity. She wrapped her hands around his neck, her thumbs pressing into his windpipe with relentless pressure. The adrenaline coursing through her veins made her stronger than she ever thought possible. She used her body weight to keep him down, squeezing with all her might. His struggles grew weaker, his gasps more desperate. She didn't let go until she felt his body go limp beneath her, the life drained from his eyes. As she stood over the lifeless body, her breath ragged and heart pounding, she caught sight of Emily.
Her best friend, who had been laughing from the shadows, suddenly stopped. The look in Emily's eyes was one of pure terror. She had never expected Vivian to fight back, let alone kill him and nor did Vivian ever thought that Emily her best friend for life would throw her infront of hideous monsters thirsty for her life. For a moment, their eyes locked. Vivian's gaze was filled with a mix of betrayal and fury, a silent condemnation of Emily's cowardice and betrayal. Emily, realizing the gravity of what had just happened, turned and fled. She disappeared into the night, her laughter replaced by the sound of her hurried footsteps. It was as if she had never been there, leaving Vivian alone with the aftermath of her desperate struggle for survival.
Vivian staggered back, her breath ragged, staring at the lifeless body before her. The monster within her had taken over, driven by the years of suppressed rage and fear. She had always known it was there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for a moment like this to break free. In the aftermath, she realized that this inner beast, born from her traumatic childhood, had saved her life. She had protected herself and her chastity, but the cost was a part of her humanity. As she looked down at the man she had killed, she knew she could never go back to who she was before. The monster was a part of her now, a dark guardian that had emerged from the shadows of her past.
Vivian wiped her tears and removed her arm from her eyes. It's been 20 years already. An awkward darkness of gloom filled the room, but a villainous smirk played on her lips. She sat upright, pouring herself a glass of grape juice from the decanter in front of her.
As she took the first sip, she whispered to herself, "Well, he deserved it." Her laughter echoed through the penthouse, a chilling reminder of the lengths she would go to protect herself.
Meanwhile, Detective Sarah Blake was tirelessly rechecking and analyzing every CCTV footage and report from the crime scene. Something was missing, a detail she couldn't quite grasp. She delved into the sisters' history, discovering that they were common workers at a local food factory.
The sisters were notorious for their vicious comments, always joking and mocking those around them. Their behavior had earned them plenty of enemies, but there was nothing that pointed directly to a motive for their murders.
Sarah rubbed her temples, frustration mounting. The sisters' habits hinted that they must have had people who hated them but finding that one person among many was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
She knew she was close, but the pieces of the puzzle refused to fit together. Determined, she pushed on, aware that time was running out and that the killer was still out there, hiding in plain sight.
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on patreon.com/Accuscripter
Last edited:
Bad Daughter: Chapter 3
New
accuscripter
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Apr 2, 2025
- Messages
- 21
- Likes received
- 17
Sarah Blake stood in the cold, sterile room of the forensics lab, reexamining the bodies of the two sisters. It had been four days since their deaths, and yet, there was no trace of the killer. The sisters lay naked on the slabs before her, their faces pale and devoid of the usual signs of trauma she had grown accustomed to seeing in her twenty-year career.
The door behind her creaked open, and she sensed the presence of her husband, Lieutenant John Blake. A dark-skinned man with a strong, determined visage, John had been her rock through many tough cases.
"What do you think happened to these girls?" John asked, his voice low and troubled.
Sarah shook her head. "Nothing like I've ever seen before. But I think I've heard of a similar case—victims found dead without any suspicious symptoms, the killer never caught."
John's eyes met hers, a look of understanding passing between them. "You think it's the same case? The same killer?" Sarah turned her face toward him, her expression resolute. "I want to see those case reports. Whoever saw that case, I need to talk to them."
She moved toward the exit, her mind racing with possibilities. John followed her but then paused, turning back to the lifeless bodies on the slabs. He murmured something under his breath, a prayer or perhaps a promise, before gently covering the sisters' faces with white sheets and silently leaving behind his wife.
Meanwhile, in the office, Mark was staring at Vivian like a moth drawn to a flame, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and defiance. He knew that messing with Vivian was a mistake, yet his toxic masculinity drove him to assert his dominance, even if it meant courting danger.
Laura entered the office, her demeanor suspicious and tense. As Vivian looked up, Laura hesitated, her hands clenching the files she carried. She placed the files on Vivian's desk, her hands slick with sweat. Vivian's eyes narrowed as she sensed something was off. Laura was like a sister to her, and Vivian loved and protected her very much. The entire office knew of their close bond and dared not cross Laura, especially in front of Vivian.
"Sweetie, what's the matter? All good?" Vivian's words snapped Laura out of her trance.
She looked up, forcing a smile. "Nah, I'm all good." Vivian could tell something was wrong.
Laura's eyes were red, and her face was pale. Vivian stood, drawing the curtains around her office before approaching Laura. She pulled Laura into a hug, her concern deepening.
"Laura, what's happened, dear?" Laura looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "It's my mom. She's sick, and I'm really worried about her."
Vivian relaxed slightly but knew Laura wasn't telling the whole truth. She helped her wipe her tears and squatted to Laura's height.
"You know I'm always here for you, right? You must tell me if there is anything, okay?" Laura smiled weakly. "I should go back. I've been in the office for quite a while now."
She picked up the files and moved toward the door.
Vivian, sitting on the edge of her desk, twirled a pen in her long, sleek fingers.
"I guess you don't need my signatures?" she said with a smirk. Laura gave a tired laugh.
"Oh man! Where's my head!" She brought the files back to Vivian, who smiled and signed them.
As Laura walked away, Vivian couldn't help but feel a deep sadness. Just then, the phone rang, and Vivian turned back to her work.
It was a quarter to seven when Sarah Blake received a call about an assault at a nearby company. She rushed to the scene immediately. The victim, a white blonde female aged 27, was found unconscious in a bathroom with signs of strangulation.
As Sarah arrived, she saw a huge crowd gathered. Flashing her badge, she made her way through the gates to the sealed-off area where the woman had been found. Sarah approached a female officer, "Yes, Maya, what's the case?" "Laura Steward, 27, an assistant in this company, was found fainted on the 5th-floor bathrooms. She's been taken to the hospital after early resuscitation," Maya explained.
Sarah looked at Maya with concern. "Any signs of resistance?" Maya shook her head. "No, nothing, but we don't know until the final forensics report"
Who found her? Sarah asked..."A man named Mark Albert found her." Maya responded.
Sarah glanced around the bathroom before stepping out and pointing with her pen at the sign by the door. "What was he doing in the female bathroom?"
"He said he heard her calling for help," Maya replied. "Where is he now?" Sarah asked.
Just then, a commotion at the entrance caught their attention. Vivian Donovan stormed into the scene, two police officers struggling to hold her back. Sarah approached her.
Vivian's round-rimmed glasses had slipped down her nose, her disheveled hair adding to her cold, intimidating look.
"Where is Laura?" Vivian demanded.
"She's been rushed to the hospital" Sarah assured her.
"Who did this to her?" Vivian shouted, her voice echoing through the hallway.
"We don't know, ma'am. We're looking into it. Don't worry," one of the officers said.
Vivian's poisonous stare could have frozen anyone in their tracks. She freed herself from the officers' grasp and stormed out, her heels clicking against the floor, the sound fading with each step. Sarah watched her leave, then turned back to Maya.
"Who was she?"
"Chief Executive of this company, Vivian Donovan. She had a close relationship with the victim."
"Where was she up until now?"
"She left the office at a quarter to four and returned just now."
Sarah watched Vivian disappear down the hall. Something about her felt off, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Snapping out of her thoughts, she asked,
"So, where is Mark right now?"
The scene at the company had rattled everyone. Sarah Blake's investigation was just beginning, and the pieces of the puzzle were far from coming together. With Vivian's fierce determination and Sarah's relentless pursuit of the truth, the path ahead was bound to be filled with twists and turns, leading them ever closer to the dark secrets that lay beneath the surface.
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter
The door behind her creaked open, and she sensed the presence of her husband, Lieutenant John Blake. A dark-skinned man with a strong, determined visage, John had been her rock through many tough cases.
"What do you think happened to these girls?" John asked, his voice low and troubled.
Sarah shook her head. "Nothing like I've ever seen before. But I think I've heard of a similar case—victims found dead without any suspicious symptoms, the killer never caught."
John's eyes met hers, a look of understanding passing between them. "You think it's the same case? The same killer?" Sarah turned her face toward him, her expression resolute. "I want to see those case reports. Whoever saw that case, I need to talk to them."
She moved toward the exit, her mind racing with possibilities. John followed her but then paused, turning back to the lifeless bodies on the slabs. He murmured something under his breath, a prayer or perhaps a promise, before gently covering the sisters' faces with white sheets and silently leaving behind his wife.
Meanwhile, in the office, Mark was staring at Vivian like a moth drawn to a flame, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and defiance. He knew that messing with Vivian was a mistake, yet his toxic masculinity drove him to assert his dominance, even if it meant courting danger.
Laura entered the office, her demeanor suspicious and tense. As Vivian looked up, Laura hesitated, her hands clenching the files she carried. She placed the files on Vivian's desk, her hands slick with sweat. Vivian's eyes narrowed as she sensed something was off. Laura was like a sister to her, and Vivian loved and protected her very much. The entire office knew of their close bond and dared not cross Laura, especially in front of Vivian.
"Sweetie, what's the matter? All good?" Vivian's words snapped Laura out of her trance.
She looked up, forcing a smile. "Nah, I'm all good." Vivian could tell something was wrong.
Laura's eyes were red, and her face was pale. Vivian stood, drawing the curtains around her office before approaching Laura. She pulled Laura into a hug, her concern deepening.
"Laura, what's happened, dear?" Laura looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "It's my mom. She's sick, and I'm really worried about her."
Vivian relaxed slightly but knew Laura wasn't telling the whole truth. She helped her wipe her tears and squatted to Laura's height.
"You know I'm always here for you, right? You must tell me if there is anything, okay?" Laura smiled weakly. "I should go back. I've been in the office for quite a while now."
She picked up the files and moved toward the door.
Vivian, sitting on the edge of her desk, twirled a pen in her long, sleek fingers.
"I guess you don't need my signatures?" she said with a smirk. Laura gave a tired laugh.
"Oh man! Where's my head!" She brought the files back to Vivian, who smiled and signed them.
As Laura walked away, Vivian couldn't help but feel a deep sadness. Just then, the phone rang, and Vivian turned back to her work.
It was a quarter to seven when Sarah Blake received a call about an assault at a nearby company. She rushed to the scene immediately. The victim, a white blonde female aged 27, was found unconscious in a bathroom with signs of strangulation.
As Sarah arrived, she saw a huge crowd gathered. Flashing her badge, she made her way through the gates to the sealed-off area where the woman had been found. Sarah approached a female officer, "Yes, Maya, what's the case?" "Laura Steward, 27, an assistant in this company, was found fainted on the 5th-floor bathrooms. She's been taken to the hospital after early resuscitation," Maya explained.
Sarah looked at Maya with concern. "Any signs of resistance?" Maya shook her head. "No, nothing, but we don't know until the final forensics report"
Who found her? Sarah asked..."A man named Mark Albert found her." Maya responded.
Sarah glanced around the bathroom before stepping out and pointing with her pen at the sign by the door. "What was he doing in the female bathroom?"
"He said he heard her calling for help," Maya replied. "Where is he now?" Sarah asked.
Just then, a commotion at the entrance caught their attention. Vivian Donovan stormed into the scene, two police officers struggling to hold her back. Sarah approached her.
Vivian's round-rimmed glasses had slipped down her nose, her disheveled hair adding to her cold, intimidating look.
"Where is Laura?" Vivian demanded.
"She's been rushed to the hospital" Sarah assured her.
"Who did this to her?" Vivian shouted, her voice echoing through the hallway.
"We don't know, ma'am. We're looking into it. Don't worry," one of the officers said.
Vivian's poisonous stare could have frozen anyone in their tracks. She freed herself from the officers' grasp and stormed out, her heels clicking against the floor, the sound fading with each step. Sarah watched her leave, then turned back to Maya.
"Who was she?"
"Chief Executive of this company, Vivian Donovan. She had a close relationship with the victim."
"Where was she up until now?"
"She left the office at a quarter to four and returned just now."
Sarah watched Vivian disappear down the hall. Something about her felt off, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Snapping out of her thoughts, she asked,
"So, where is Mark right now?"
The scene at the company had rattled everyone. Sarah Blake's investigation was just beginning, and the pieces of the puzzle were far from coming together. With Vivian's fierce determination and Sarah's relentless pursuit of the truth, the path ahead was bound to be filled with twists and turns, leading them ever closer to the dark secrets that lay beneath the surface.
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter
Bad Daughter: Chapter 4
New
accuscripter
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Apr 2, 2025
- Messages
- 21
- Likes received
- 17
The water, as soon as it touched his body, chilled him to the core. He was already shivering with fear, and the cold water further exacerbated his weak heart. He felt breathless. He loosened his tie under the shower and sank to the floor, gasping for air, head hung low.
"I didn't do anything... she was trying to be over-smart... she should have listened to me when I asked her. This is not my fault, this is her fault..." Mark muttered, continuously nodding his head, trying to convince himself. At that very moment, he felt a presence behind him. A silent shriek broke out of his mouth. He immediately turned around and stood up, looking frantically around.
The water was running, drenching him, but it was enough to calm his wrecked heart. He turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower. Now, he stared at himself in the foggy bathroom mirror. He wiped the glass and looked into it. His hair was wet and disheveled. He wiped his face and then hid it in his hands, breathing heavily.
Looking up, now seemingly calmer, he set his hair and murmured, "It's not my fault. She is too weak. She brought this on herself. She brought this on herself. She brought this on herself... she was at fault she was…VIVIAN!!! ...
VIVIAaaannn!!!!...
YESSS!!!!
She did this, yes, Vivian did this." He waved his hand in the air, a manic frantic look in his eyes. "Yes, this all happened because of that witch, Vivian..."
He pushed himself away from the mirror that was staring deep into his soul, telling him who he really was—a coward or maybe a killer. He slid the door of his bathroom open and stepped into his dark living room, his clothes still drenched with water. He kept muttering "Vivian, Vivian," under his breath, looking for the switch to turn on the lights. He didn't even realize that he had already turned on the lights before he dashed into the bathroom. He just kept looking and looking, the name "Vivian" a constant whisper.
Suddenly, he smelled something metallic. It was too sharp not to be noticed. His hand finally found the switch, and as soon as he turned it on, he exclaimed, "VIV..." but it went dark again. He fell to the floor. Someone passed by him. He tried to grasp the person's foot, but he was too weak. The person jerked him away, opened the door, and looked back at him, the person's round-rimmed glasses glared in the faint light of the hallway before disappearing and closing the door behind.
Sarah Blake stood in front of Apartment 501, knocking on the front door for the last five minutes but to no avail. "Mr. Mark Albert! If you don't open the door right this moment, we will break in!" she called out, her voice firm. Officers Maya and William were with her, their faces tense with anticipation.
But still, no one responded. Sarah took hold of the door handle. As she twisted the knob, it opened. "Mr. Mark, we are coming in..." she announced, using one hand to open the door and the other to firm her grip on her pistol. "Mr. Mark..." she called again.
"Oh my... What happened to him..." she exclaimed as she saw the lifeless figure on the floor.
Maya rushed over to the person lying on his side. She gently pulled him onto his back.
"Be careful!" Sarah warned, coming around the person.
Maya checked the vitals. "He's dead..."
Sarah's hands fell to her side. She felt the weight of the situation pressing down on her. After a long pause, she said, "Seal the area. Check for any signs. William, get the CCTV footage."
Mark was still drenched in his wet clothes, lying on the cold floor. Sarah was examining the surroundings when near the bathroom, she detected a peculiar metallic smell.
Her eyes widened. "Not again!" She rushed toward the door. "Maya, report to me as soon as his forensics are received. Also get the CCTV footage from William. I'll be at the station." Saying this, she hurried out, making her way through the crowd of curious neighbors who were desperately trying to get a peek at the scene.
Vivian was in her office, reviewing some executive files and managing the budget plan for the new business Laura was looking into. She rang the bell, and Sofia came running into the office. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Help me schedule a hotel reservation with Mr. Darcy tomorrow at 12."
"Okay, ma'am..."
"And make sure Mr. Darcy is allergic to shrimp and peanuts. Sooo…"
"Got it, ma'am. I understand…!"
Sofia hurried back to start the procedure while Vivian resumed her work. It was just like any other day. She seemed far too normal, considering the recent events. Everyone was worried about her, but no one dared to ask anything. They peeked at her through the glass walls of her office, whispering and speculating. Vivian soon realized this and, as she raised her eyes, she saw the gathered crowd around Sofia after she left the office, chattering and pointing at her without realizing she was looking back at them.
Irritated as she already was, she frowned and stood up. Took off her glasses, picked up her trench coat and exited her office. She stopped near Sophia's table where the crowd was gathered
"I will appreciate it, Ms. Sophia Blythe, if you can arrange the reservation clearly, rather than gossiping and chattering into what is not your concern. Make sure there are no mistakes,"
She said firmly before making her way out. Everyone stood stunned, watching her leave. Sophia couldn't answer in her defense… just a vague response of affirmation to Vivian's command.
In their six years together, it was the first time they had ever seen Vivian leave the office before her usual off time. There wasn't just one problem but a whole new set of issues they couldn't solve and didn't dare to confront.
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter
"I didn't do anything... she was trying to be over-smart... she should have listened to me when I asked her. This is not my fault, this is her fault..." Mark muttered, continuously nodding his head, trying to convince himself. At that very moment, he felt a presence behind him. A silent shriek broke out of his mouth. He immediately turned around and stood up, looking frantically around.
The water was running, drenching him, but it was enough to calm his wrecked heart. He turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower. Now, he stared at himself in the foggy bathroom mirror. He wiped the glass and looked into it. His hair was wet and disheveled. He wiped his face and then hid it in his hands, breathing heavily.
Looking up, now seemingly calmer, he set his hair and murmured, "It's not my fault. She is too weak. She brought this on herself. She brought this on herself. She brought this on herself... she was at fault she was…VIVIAN!!! ...
VIVIAaaannn!!!!...
YESSS!!!!
She did this, yes, Vivian did this." He waved his hand in the air, a manic frantic look in his eyes. "Yes, this all happened because of that witch, Vivian..."
He pushed himself away from the mirror that was staring deep into his soul, telling him who he really was—a coward or maybe a killer. He slid the door of his bathroom open and stepped into his dark living room, his clothes still drenched with water. He kept muttering "Vivian, Vivian," under his breath, looking for the switch to turn on the lights. He didn't even realize that he had already turned on the lights before he dashed into the bathroom. He just kept looking and looking, the name "Vivian" a constant whisper.
Suddenly, he smelled something metallic. It was too sharp not to be noticed. His hand finally found the switch, and as soon as he turned it on, he exclaimed, "VIV..." but it went dark again. He fell to the floor. Someone passed by him. He tried to grasp the person's foot, but he was too weak. The person jerked him away, opened the door, and looked back at him, the person's round-rimmed glasses glared in the faint light of the hallway before disappearing and closing the door behind.
Sarah Blake stood in front of Apartment 501, knocking on the front door for the last five minutes but to no avail. "Mr. Mark Albert! If you don't open the door right this moment, we will break in!" she called out, her voice firm. Officers Maya and William were with her, their faces tense with anticipation.
But still, no one responded. Sarah took hold of the door handle. As she twisted the knob, it opened. "Mr. Mark, we are coming in..." she announced, using one hand to open the door and the other to firm her grip on her pistol. "Mr. Mark..." she called again.
"Oh my... What happened to him..." she exclaimed as she saw the lifeless figure on the floor.
Maya rushed over to the person lying on his side. She gently pulled him onto his back.
"Be careful!" Sarah warned, coming around the person.
Maya checked the vitals. "He's dead..."
Sarah's hands fell to her side. She felt the weight of the situation pressing down on her. After a long pause, she said, "Seal the area. Check for any signs. William, get the CCTV footage."
Mark was still drenched in his wet clothes, lying on the cold floor. Sarah was examining the surroundings when near the bathroom, she detected a peculiar metallic smell.
Her eyes widened. "Not again!" She rushed toward the door. "Maya, report to me as soon as his forensics are received. Also get the CCTV footage from William. I'll be at the station." Saying this, she hurried out, making her way through the crowd of curious neighbors who were desperately trying to get a peek at the scene.
Vivian was in her office, reviewing some executive files and managing the budget plan for the new business Laura was looking into. She rang the bell, and Sofia came running into the office. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Help me schedule a hotel reservation with Mr. Darcy tomorrow at 12."
"Okay, ma'am..."
"And make sure Mr. Darcy is allergic to shrimp and peanuts. Sooo…"
"Got it, ma'am. I understand…!"
Sofia hurried back to start the procedure while Vivian resumed her work. It was just like any other day. She seemed far too normal, considering the recent events. Everyone was worried about her, but no one dared to ask anything. They peeked at her through the glass walls of her office, whispering and speculating. Vivian soon realized this and, as she raised her eyes, she saw the gathered crowd around Sofia after she left the office, chattering and pointing at her without realizing she was looking back at them.
Irritated as she already was, she frowned and stood up. Took off her glasses, picked up her trench coat and exited her office. She stopped near Sophia's table where the crowd was gathered
"I will appreciate it, Ms. Sophia Blythe, if you can arrange the reservation clearly, rather than gossiping and chattering into what is not your concern. Make sure there are no mistakes,"
She said firmly before making her way out. Everyone stood stunned, watching her leave. Sophia couldn't answer in her defense… just a vague response of affirmation to Vivian's command.
In their six years together, it was the first time they had ever seen Vivian leave the office before her usual off time. There wasn't just one problem but a whole new set of issues they couldn't solve and didn't dare to confront.
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter
Bad Daughter: Chapter 5
New
accuscripter
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Apr 2, 2025
- Messages
- 21
- Likes received
- 17
Vivian stood at the window, her hands in her pockets, gazing into the infinite expanse of roads and buildings ahead. Her messy, loose hair waved gently in the slight breeze from the rotating ceiling fan.
"Vain..." The voice was small and weak. Vivian thought it was her mind playing tricks on her. Then she heard it again, louder this time. "Vain..."
She spun around and saw Laura awake after a three-day hospital stay.
"Laura... my dear, are you okay?" Vivian rushed to her side. Laura tried to sit up, her neck stabilized in a soft cervical collar. She clutched her neck, a small cry of pain escaping her lips.
"Lie down, lie down! What do you need? I'll get it for you."
Laura tried to laugh, but her neck hurt too much. Vivian stroked Laura's head, playing with her golden blonde hair. She avoided Laura's eyes while Laura stared into hers.
"Stop it, Laura! Don't look at me like that!" Vivian snapped, as she started setting the flower vase on the side table. Laura was still looking at her. Vivian stopped suddenly and turned to Laura. "Why didn't you tell me someone was trying to hurt you?"
Laura looked away, staring out the window.
"Laura, look at me!" Vivian went to the other side of the bed. Tears rolled down Laura's face, her eyes red and face smitten. Vivian wiped her tears and held her face in her hands, her own eyes glittering with remorse.
"Laura..." she said, her voice faltering. "I didn't want you to take any stress... Has something like this ever happened before?"
Laura shook her head.
"If you're comfortable, would you like to tell me what happened?"
Laura closed her eyes for a minute and then began, "A few days ago, Mark came out of your office in a hurry, full of anger. I tried to calm him down, but he looked at me with pure venom. He started following me everywhere, like he wanted to kill me. Then he caught me and said, 'Why are you running from me? Do you also think I'm invisible? A rat? Huh?' And as I moved back, he started to strangle me, hysterically saying, 'I will kill you, I will kill you...'"
There was a prolonged pause.
Laura resumed, "Where is he?"
"Where is who?"
"Mark, where is he now?"
"He's dead."
How?
We don't know yet.. Vivian responded
Laura was shocked and started having a mental breakdown.
Vivian sighed, her shoulders slumping. She sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Laura's hand in hers. "It's complicated, Laura. The police are still trying to piece everything together. There are so many unanswered questions."
"Vain, I'm sorry. It's all my fault. If I hadn't approached him first, this wouldn't have happened. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry..."
Saying this, she closed her eyes, fidgeting all over and crying like a little child. The nurse immediately came into the room and asked Vivian to leave, stating that the patient needed rest. It was not good for her to receive such shocking news right now. She injected a tranquillizer into Laura, which started to calm her down.
Vivian stroked Laura's cheek, her voice tender yet firm. "Don't you dare ever say such a thing again, okay? I'm always here for you."
Saying this, Vivian left the room her own mind a whirlwind of thoughts and fears. and went to the parking lot.
She couldn't control herself and crumbled under the weight of all the mess. She was too tired and too sad. She sat on the floor, her back supported by the giant tires of her black Lexus. Her head felt heavy, her eyes fluttering as fatigue took hold. Her turtleneck sweater seemed to tighten around her neck, suffocating her. She desperately tugged at the fabric, trying to loosen it, but it was no use. She was just breathing, barely hanging on...
"Wake her up..." A voice intruded on her hazy thoughts, cutting through the fog of exhaustion.
"Ms. Vivian Donovan? Are you alright? Ms. Vivian?" The voice grew more insistent, shaking her from her stupor.
Someone was shaking her, the touch firm but not unkind. She opened her tired eyes, squinting against the harsh light of the parking lot. Officer Maya had her hand on Vivian's shoulder, her expression one of concern. Sarah Blake stood behind her, looking down at Vivian with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
Vivian tried to stand up but lost her balance on her long heels and fell back to the floor. The world spun around her as she stabilized herself with her hands on the cold concrete. She looked up, meeting Sarah's cold gaze.
Maya extended a hand, pulling Vivian to her feet with surprising strength. "You good?" she asked.
"Yes..." Vivian replied, freeing herself from Maya's hold. She straightened herself. Her eyes locked onto Sarah Blake's, who continued to stare at her, hands in her pockets, her glare just as unyielding as her own self.
Sarah finally spoke. "Why are you here, Ms. Vivian?"
Vivian's eyes narrowed. "Are you investigating me, officer?" she countered, her voice small yet carrying an undeniable edge of defiance.
"Your condition does require an investigation as to why you were sleeping in a parking lot, 9 at night,"
Hearing this, Vivian glanced at her watch. It was 9:15 PM. The realization of how much time had passed hit her head like a ton of bricks.
She looked back at Sarah, determination hardening her features. She pushing her hair back with a resolve. Her keys were on the floor; she picked them up with a swift, and moved towards the driver's side of her car. Sarah Blake and Maya still watching her.
As she unlocked her car, she said, "Ah and Yesss… the next time you want to question me... get a warrant, Officer!," Saying this she slipped into her car, started the engine with a roar, and peeled out of the parking lot, the tires screaming against the pavement.
Sarah Blake's eyes followed the car until it disappeared into the distance, her arms crossed and her head tilted to one side, deep in thought. Her mind raced, trying to piece together the enigma that was Vivian Donovan. The sound of Vivian's car fading into the night left an eerie silence in its wake.
Just then, Officer William pulled up with their car, breaking Sarah's reverie. She shook her head slightly, bringing herself back to the present. They had a lot of work ahead of them.
"Let's go," Sarah said, her voice resolute. "We have a lot to figure out."
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter
"Vain..." The voice was small and weak. Vivian thought it was her mind playing tricks on her. Then she heard it again, louder this time. "Vain..."
She spun around and saw Laura awake after a three-day hospital stay.
"Laura... my dear, are you okay?" Vivian rushed to her side. Laura tried to sit up, her neck stabilized in a soft cervical collar. She clutched her neck, a small cry of pain escaping her lips.
"Lie down, lie down! What do you need? I'll get it for you."
Laura tried to laugh, but her neck hurt too much. Vivian stroked Laura's head, playing with her golden blonde hair. She avoided Laura's eyes while Laura stared into hers.
"Stop it, Laura! Don't look at me like that!" Vivian snapped, as she started setting the flower vase on the side table. Laura was still looking at her. Vivian stopped suddenly and turned to Laura. "Why didn't you tell me someone was trying to hurt you?"
Laura looked away, staring out the window.
"Laura, look at me!" Vivian went to the other side of the bed. Tears rolled down Laura's face, her eyes red and face smitten. Vivian wiped her tears and held her face in her hands, her own eyes glittering with remorse.
"Laura..." she said, her voice faltering. "I didn't want you to take any stress... Has something like this ever happened before?"
Laura shook her head.
"If you're comfortable, would you like to tell me what happened?"
Laura closed her eyes for a minute and then began, "A few days ago, Mark came out of your office in a hurry, full of anger. I tried to calm him down, but he looked at me with pure venom. He started following me everywhere, like he wanted to kill me. Then he caught me and said, 'Why are you running from me? Do you also think I'm invisible? A rat? Huh?' And as I moved back, he started to strangle me, hysterically saying, 'I will kill you, I will kill you...'"
There was a prolonged pause.
Laura resumed, "Where is he?"
"Where is who?"
"Mark, where is he now?"
"He's dead."
How?
We don't know yet.. Vivian responded
Laura was shocked and started having a mental breakdown.
Vivian sighed, her shoulders slumping. She sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Laura's hand in hers. "It's complicated, Laura. The police are still trying to piece everything together. There are so many unanswered questions."
"Vain, I'm sorry. It's all my fault. If I hadn't approached him first, this wouldn't have happened. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry..."
Saying this, she closed her eyes, fidgeting all over and crying like a little child. The nurse immediately came into the room and asked Vivian to leave, stating that the patient needed rest. It was not good for her to receive such shocking news right now. She injected a tranquillizer into Laura, which started to calm her down.
Vivian stroked Laura's cheek, her voice tender yet firm. "Don't you dare ever say such a thing again, okay? I'm always here for you."
Saying this, Vivian left the room her own mind a whirlwind of thoughts and fears. and went to the parking lot.
She couldn't control herself and crumbled under the weight of all the mess. She was too tired and too sad. She sat on the floor, her back supported by the giant tires of her black Lexus. Her head felt heavy, her eyes fluttering as fatigue took hold. Her turtleneck sweater seemed to tighten around her neck, suffocating her. She desperately tugged at the fabric, trying to loosen it, but it was no use. She was just breathing, barely hanging on...
"Wake her up..." A voice intruded on her hazy thoughts, cutting through the fog of exhaustion.
"Ms. Vivian Donovan? Are you alright? Ms. Vivian?" The voice grew more insistent, shaking her from her stupor.
Someone was shaking her, the touch firm but not unkind. She opened her tired eyes, squinting against the harsh light of the parking lot. Officer Maya had her hand on Vivian's shoulder, her expression one of concern. Sarah Blake stood behind her, looking down at Vivian with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
Vivian tried to stand up but lost her balance on her long heels and fell back to the floor. The world spun around her as she stabilized herself with her hands on the cold concrete. She looked up, meeting Sarah's cold gaze.
Maya extended a hand, pulling Vivian to her feet with surprising strength. "You good?" she asked.
"Yes..." Vivian replied, freeing herself from Maya's hold. She straightened herself. Her eyes locked onto Sarah Blake's, who continued to stare at her, hands in her pockets, her glare just as unyielding as her own self.
Sarah finally spoke. "Why are you here, Ms. Vivian?"
Vivian's eyes narrowed. "Are you investigating me, officer?" she countered, her voice small yet carrying an undeniable edge of defiance.
"Your condition does require an investigation as to why you were sleeping in a parking lot, 9 at night,"
Hearing this, Vivian glanced at her watch. It was 9:15 PM. The realization of how much time had passed hit her head like a ton of bricks.
She looked back at Sarah, determination hardening her features. She pushing her hair back with a resolve. Her keys were on the floor; she picked them up with a swift, and moved towards the driver's side of her car. Sarah Blake and Maya still watching her.
As she unlocked her car, she said, "Ah and Yesss… the next time you want to question me... get a warrant, Officer!," Saying this she slipped into her car, started the engine with a roar, and peeled out of the parking lot, the tires screaming against the pavement.
Sarah Blake's eyes followed the car until it disappeared into the distance, her arms crossed and her head tilted to one side, deep in thought. Her mind raced, trying to piece together the enigma that was Vivian Donovan. The sound of Vivian's car fading into the night left an eerie silence in its wake.
Just then, Officer William pulled up with their car, breaking Sarah's reverie. She shook her head slightly, bringing herself back to the present. They had a lot of work ahead of them.
"Let's go," Sarah said, her voice resolute. "We have a lot to figure out."
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter
Bad Daughter: Chapter 6
New
accuscripter
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Apr 2, 2025
- Messages
- 21
- Likes received
- 17
A dense haze of smoke escaped from her mouth, turning the already dimly lit room into an acrid, suffocating chamber. She lounged on her couch, her posture relaxed but mind thinking quickly into some new drama. The cigarette dangled from her fingers, its embers glowing ominously in the gloom. Her other hand was holding a collection of photographs, their contents hidden beneath her grasp like dark secrets waiting to be revealed.
The relentless pounding on the door shattered the fragile silence. Her head jerked up, her eyes locking onto the clock: midnight. The insistent knocking shattered through the apartment, each thud echoing like a damn warning. Panic flared in her chest as she realized the gravity of the interruption.
With a burst of frantic energy, she immediately snuffed out the cigarette, its ember hissing as it met the sink water. Her fingers trembled slightly as she yanked open the window, trying to expel the choking smoke that seemed to cling to every corner and nock. She felt a pang of fear—if someone were to come in, the smell of cigarettes and the hidden photographs would betray her.
Her heart raced as she swiftly shoved the photographs beneath the couch cushions, in an attempt to protect the images of her dark plans and hidden truths concealing them from any prying eyes. The knocking grew louder, more insistent, a rhythmic battering that seemed to shake the very walls of her own self.
She dashed into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, the icy water cascading down. The spray was cold and unforgiving, but she stood there, drenching her head.
Minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity as Laura struggled to regain her composure. The sound of the relentless knocking seemed to pierce through the rush of the shower, each bang a reminder of the urgency of the situation. Her breathing came in ragged bursts, the cold water doing little to soothe the pounding of her heart.
In a frantic, almost mechanical motion, she washed her skin, rinsed her mouth trying to rid herself of the smoky stench that clung stubbornly to her clothes, hair and mouth.
As the minutes wore on, She emerged from the shower, shivering slightly, her hair plastered to her face.
The knocking had not ceased; if anything, it had intensified. With a deep breath, Laura steeled herself. She needed to appear calm and collected, despite the chaos swirling within. It had been 10 minutes since the door was knocking, even her phone was ringing violently… She brushed a stray lock of wet hair from her face and cautiously approached the door.
"Who is it?" she called out, her voice attempting to convey nonchalance but betraying a hint of strain.
"John," came the muffled reply from the other side. The name sent a jolt of fear through her. John Blake—one of the few people who could unravel her carefully constructed façade.
"Coming," she managed to reply, her voice now steady. She wiped her damp face with the back of her hand, trying to mask her disheveled appearance. The door rattled again, more urgently this time, as if John was losing patience.
Laura took another deep breath, straightened herself, and swung open the door. John Blake stood in the hallway, his expression a mix of irritation and suspicion. His eyes swept over her with a practiced gaze, noting the disarray of the apartment and the faint idea of her over cautiousness.
"What took you so long to open the door?" John's tone was sharp, his gaze lingering on her with a scrutinizing intensity.
"I was in the bathroom,"
couldn't hear the door."
John's eyes flicked and Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside, his gaze scanning the room.
Everything good??? She asked…
Nothing, I just left some papers here…
Leaving he there He moved towards the kitchen, where he began to gather the scattered papers on the counter. Her heart was racing, and, her anxiety mounting as she watched him from the doorway.
As he was about leave the kitchen, John's attention was drawn to a suspiciously dusty spot on the floor. He crouched down, his hand brushing through the ash powder. His expression darkened as he sniffed the residue, his movements deliberate and analytical.
She was now standing at the entrance of the kitchen with a shrug now covering her shoulder, she was forcing herself to remain calm. John stood up, shaking his head slightly. He walked over to her, stroking her wet golden blonde hair, and hand passing over her delicate neck…
the strangle scar on her neck was still visible.
He was touching it with care as if not to hurt her… she flinched a little
"Good he died by himself; otherwise, I would have killed him with my own bare hands."
Laura's smile softly and holding his hand she kissed it, and said silently, her voice almost like a whisper, "Don't bother with it. Don't get dirty blood on your hands."
John's smile was brief and knowing. He nodded and made his way out of the kitchen, his departure swift and deliberate. Laura watched him leave, the door closing behind him with a soft click. As soon as he was gone, she spat on the floor in disgust, her anger simmering beneath the surface.
"Crazy man," saying this she spits on the floor" throwing away her shrug onto the counter and racking her hair so as to dry it, and fell onto the couch once again. She opened her phone camera and saw her strangle mark. Touching it and then feeling the disgust she turned it off and lit another cigarette with a fierce resolve … The room was soon engulfed in smoke, the haze thickening as she retrieved the photographs from beneath the cushions. Her fingers traced the images with a mix of reverence and malice and her long nails, scratching the face of the subject of the photograph."
"Ah, my sweet Vivian," Laura cooed, her voice dripping with venom. "I will make sure you take a sweet poison."
With a wicked smile, she added, "I will make sure to double what I have been suffering. Every ounce of pain I've endured will be paid back to you."
She tossed the photographs onto the table with a sense of grim satisfaction, her eyes glittering with malicious intent. The smoke swirled around her like a dark omen, amplifying the malevolent satisfaction in her gaze. Her heart raced with a dangerous excitement as she let the full weight of her intentions settle in.
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter
The relentless pounding on the door shattered the fragile silence. Her head jerked up, her eyes locking onto the clock: midnight. The insistent knocking shattered through the apartment, each thud echoing like a damn warning. Panic flared in her chest as she realized the gravity of the interruption.
With a burst of frantic energy, she immediately snuffed out the cigarette, its ember hissing as it met the sink water. Her fingers trembled slightly as she yanked open the window, trying to expel the choking smoke that seemed to cling to every corner and nock. She felt a pang of fear—if someone were to come in, the smell of cigarettes and the hidden photographs would betray her.
Her heart raced as she swiftly shoved the photographs beneath the couch cushions, in an attempt to protect the images of her dark plans and hidden truths concealing them from any prying eyes. The knocking grew louder, more insistent, a rhythmic battering that seemed to shake the very walls of her own self.
She dashed into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, the icy water cascading down. The spray was cold and unforgiving, but she stood there, drenching her head.
Minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity as Laura struggled to regain her composure. The sound of the relentless knocking seemed to pierce through the rush of the shower, each bang a reminder of the urgency of the situation. Her breathing came in ragged bursts, the cold water doing little to soothe the pounding of her heart.
In a frantic, almost mechanical motion, she washed her skin, rinsed her mouth trying to rid herself of the smoky stench that clung stubbornly to her clothes, hair and mouth.
As the minutes wore on, She emerged from the shower, shivering slightly, her hair plastered to her face.
The knocking had not ceased; if anything, it had intensified. With a deep breath, Laura steeled herself. She needed to appear calm and collected, despite the chaos swirling within. It had been 10 minutes since the door was knocking, even her phone was ringing violently… She brushed a stray lock of wet hair from her face and cautiously approached the door.
"Who is it?" she called out, her voice attempting to convey nonchalance but betraying a hint of strain.
"John," came the muffled reply from the other side. The name sent a jolt of fear through her. John Blake—one of the few people who could unravel her carefully constructed façade.
"Coming," she managed to reply, her voice now steady. She wiped her damp face with the back of her hand, trying to mask her disheveled appearance. The door rattled again, more urgently this time, as if John was losing patience.
Laura took another deep breath, straightened herself, and swung open the door. John Blake stood in the hallway, his expression a mix of irritation and suspicion. His eyes swept over her with a practiced gaze, noting the disarray of the apartment and the faint idea of her over cautiousness.
"What took you so long to open the door?" John's tone was sharp, his gaze lingering on her with a scrutinizing intensity.
"I was in the bathroom,"
couldn't hear the door."
John's eyes flicked and Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside, his gaze scanning the room.
Everything good??? She asked…
Nothing, I just left some papers here…
Leaving he there He moved towards the kitchen, where he began to gather the scattered papers on the counter. Her heart was racing, and, her anxiety mounting as she watched him from the doorway.
As he was about leave the kitchen, John's attention was drawn to a suspiciously dusty spot on the floor. He crouched down, his hand brushing through the ash powder. His expression darkened as he sniffed the residue, his movements deliberate and analytical.
She was now standing at the entrance of the kitchen with a shrug now covering her shoulder, she was forcing herself to remain calm. John stood up, shaking his head slightly. He walked over to her, stroking her wet golden blonde hair, and hand passing over her delicate neck…
the strangle scar on her neck was still visible.
He was touching it with care as if not to hurt her… she flinched a little
"Good he died by himself; otherwise, I would have killed him with my own bare hands."
Laura's smile softly and holding his hand she kissed it, and said silently, her voice almost like a whisper, "Don't bother with it. Don't get dirty blood on your hands."
John's smile was brief and knowing. He nodded and made his way out of the kitchen, his departure swift and deliberate. Laura watched him leave, the door closing behind him with a soft click. As soon as he was gone, she spat on the floor in disgust, her anger simmering beneath the surface.
"Crazy man," saying this she spits on the floor" throwing away her shrug onto the counter and racking her hair so as to dry it, and fell onto the couch once again. She opened her phone camera and saw her strangle mark. Touching it and then feeling the disgust she turned it off and lit another cigarette with a fierce resolve … The room was soon engulfed in smoke, the haze thickening as she retrieved the photographs from beneath the cushions. Her fingers traced the images with a mix of reverence and malice and her long nails, scratching the face of the subject of the photograph."
"Ah, my sweet Vivian," Laura cooed, her voice dripping with venom. "I will make sure you take a sweet poison."
With a wicked smile, she added, "I will make sure to double what I have been suffering. Every ounce of pain I've endured will be paid back to you."
She tossed the photographs onto the table with a sense of grim satisfaction, her eyes glittering with malicious intent. The smoke swirled around her like a dark omen, amplifying the malevolent satisfaction in her gaze. Her heart raced with a dangerous excitement as she let the full weight of her intentions settle in.
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter
Bad Daughter: Chapter 7
New
accuscripter
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Apr 2, 2025
- Messages
- 21
- Likes received
- 17
Two weeks had passed, and Detective Sarah Blake found herself buried under a mountain of cold cases. The pressure was quite relentless on her shoulders. Two murder investigations, both meticulously clean, no traces of murder nor intention of the act were and had left her grasping at shadows. The absence of evidence was maddening—no fingerprints, no DNA, no witness statements. Each case seemed to dissolve into thin air, leaving her with nothing but frustration and a creeping sense of dread. The room was a labyrinth of files and empty coffee cups, the scent of stale coffee mixing with the musty aroma of old case notes. And her eyes swelled with sleeplessness and her sturdy fingers still full vigor to find the new trace.
Sarah replayed the CCTV footage for what felt like the hundredth time. The grainy, flickering images on the screen blurred together, each frame more infuriating than the last. Her eyes, red-rimmed from countless hours of scrutiny, stared unblinkingly at the screen, seeking any anomaly and any hint that could crack the cases open.
Maya, her trusted colleague, approached with a steaming cup of another coffee cup. She set it gently on Sarah's desk, her eyes reflecting the weariness of the investigation. The dark liquid offered little comfort against the relentless barrage of unsolved cases. Maya's gaze fell on the footage, her expression a mixture of concern and curiosity.
"Wait a minute," Maya's voice cut through the silence, sharp with a sudden burst of excitement. "Can you rewind that part?"
Sarah, her focus sharp as a blade, quickly rewound the footage. Maya leaned in closer, her face illuminated by the flickering light of the screen. Her eyes darted across the images with a newfound intensity.
"Look closely," Maya urged. "Didn't you just see a flash of light in that tree?"
Sarah's gaze was riveted to the screen, her pulse quickening. The footage was grainy and dark, but a subtle detail emerged—a fleeting, moon-shaped flash reflected off the tree just outside the sisters' apartment window. It was almost imperceptible, a ghostly glint that lasted only a second. Their eyes widened in unison as they grasped the potential significance of the discovery.
Maya, her eyes narrowing with realization, pointed out a crucial detail. "Wait, there were two moons," she said, her voice tight with a dawning understanding. Rewind it again…
Sarah rewind it again and yes there were two crescent shaped reflections… Maya continued, "That means the person was wearing round-rimmed glasses." The faint double reflection suggested that the figure was not only precise but also identifiable by their eyewear.
Sarah's heart pounded in her chest. The once blurry and inconsequential footage now held a critical clue. "Get me all the files on Vivian Donovan and the sisters," she commanded, her tone firm and resolute.
Maya's eyes mirrored the urgency of the situation as she nodded and dashed off to retrieve the files. The office, usually a haven of activity and the rhythmic clatter of keyboards, now seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
Sarah rewound the footage one last time, her gaze intense and unyielding. She watched the shadowy figure disappear into the night, a nagging sense of familiarity gnawing at her. The figure's movements, though obscured by darkness, were eerily precise. The soft tread of its steps barely disturbed the leaves of the tree, indicating an expert's finesse. The sleek, shadowy form and its fluid movements suggested that the figure was a woman.
As Sarah's mind raced through the implications of this new clue, her thoughts were punctuated by the echoing name: Vivian Donovan. The threads of the case were beginning to weave together, but Sarah knew she needed more to draw a concrete conclusion.
Minutes later, Maya returned, her arms laden with a stack of files. The weight of each file seemed to echo the depth of the investigation. She laid them out before Sarah, who immediately began rifling through them with a determined efficiency. Her mind was already racing, piecing together fragments of information with sharp, analytical precision.
Sarah's fingers danced over the documents, her eyes scanning for any detail that might connect Vivian Donovan to the recent murders. Every scrap of evidence, every minor detail, seemed to point back to Vivian, but Sarah needed to be certain. Her doubts and questions buzzed around her head like persistent flies, but she pushed them aside, focusing solely on the task at hand.
As Sarah continued to dig through the files, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and theories. The clock ticked ominously, each second adding to the mounting tension. The night outside was dark and cold, but within the confines of Sarah's office, the atmosphere crackled with electric anticipation.
At last she found it!!!
A very minute yet important detail in the file that seemed to lead back to the link between Vivian Donovan and the sisters. Now it was confirmed that The sisters Emily and Dorothy were together with Vivian back in high school. They used to study together. And more or less they entered school in the same year as well… but Emily had left the school a year before her graduation.
Sarah had many questions… how they were linked, were they friends? Were they enemies? Were they ever in same class? Why Emily left the school just a year before her graduation? What about Dorothy? If Vivian really is the killed how she killed them? Mark is also killed her then, it's the same person… and then 10 years ago, too….
but all in all, This was a great discovery and a milestone achieved in the whole investigation. With the moon-shaped clue and the reflection of the glasses still fresh in her mind, Sarah was prepared to dive deeper into the labyrinthine mystery. The truth was out there, and she was determined to uncover it—no matter the cost. Don't know it was pride or her prejudice that she was hell bent on convicting Vivian Donovan of the murder. It was her gut feeling that told her Vivian was the murderer.
And Maybe she was right…
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter
Sarah replayed the CCTV footage for what felt like the hundredth time. The grainy, flickering images on the screen blurred together, each frame more infuriating than the last. Her eyes, red-rimmed from countless hours of scrutiny, stared unblinkingly at the screen, seeking any anomaly and any hint that could crack the cases open.
Maya, her trusted colleague, approached with a steaming cup of another coffee cup. She set it gently on Sarah's desk, her eyes reflecting the weariness of the investigation. The dark liquid offered little comfort against the relentless barrage of unsolved cases. Maya's gaze fell on the footage, her expression a mixture of concern and curiosity.
"Wait a minute," Maya's voice cut through the silence, sharp with a sudden burst of excitement. "Can you rewind that part?"
Sarah, her focus sharp as a blade, quickly rewound the footage. Maya leaned in closer, her face illuminated by the flickering light of the screen. Her eyes darted across the images with a newfound intensity.
"Look closely," Maya urged. "Didn't you just see a flash of light in that tree?"
Sarah's gaze was riveted to the screen, her pulse quickening. The footage was grainy and dark, but a subtle detail emerged—a fleeting, moon-shaped flash reflected off the tree just outside the sisters' apartment window. It was almost imperceptible, a ghostly glint that lasted only a second. Their eyes widened in unison as they grasped the potential significance of the discovery.
Maya, her eyes narrowing with realization, pointed out a crucial detail. "Wait, there were two moons," she said, her voice tight with a dawning understanding. Rewind it again…
Sarah rewind it again and yes there were two crescent shaped reflections… Maya continued, "That means the person was wearing round-rimmed glasses." The faint double reflection suggested that the figure was not only precise but also identifiable by their eyewear.
Sarah's heart pounded in her chest. The once blurry and inconsequential footage now held a critical clue. "Get me all the files on Vivian Donovan and the sisters," she commanded, her tone firm and resolute.
Maya's eyes mirrored the urgency of the situation as she nodded and dashed off to retrieve the files. The office, usually a haven of activity and the rhythmic clatter of keyboards, now seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
Sarah rewound the footage one last time, her gaze intense and unyielding. She watched the shadowy figure disappear into the night, a nagging sense of familiarity gnawing at her. The figure's movements, though obscured by darkness, were eerily precise. The soft tread of its steps barely disturbed the leaves of the tree, indicating an expert's finesse. The sleek, shadowy form and its fluid movements suggested that the figure was a woman.
As Sarah's mind raced through the implications of this new clue, her thoughts were punctuated by the echoing name: Vivian Donovan. The threads of the case were beginning to weave together, but Sarah knew she needed more to draw a concrete conclusion.
Minutes later, Maya returned, her arms laden with a stack of files. The weight of each file seemed to echo the depth of the investigation. She laid them out before Sarah, who immediately began rifling through them with a determined efficiency. Her mind was already racing, piecing together fragments of information with sharp, analytical precision.
Sarah's fingers danced over the documents, her eyes scanning for any detail that might connect Vivian Donovan to the recent murders. Every scrap of evidence, every minor detail, seemed to point back to Vivian, but Sarah needed to be certain. Her doubts and questions buzzed around her head like persistent flies, but she pushed them aside, focusing solely on the task at hand.
As Sarah continued to dig through the files, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and theories. The clock ticked ominously, each second adding to the mounting tension. The night outside was dark and cold, but within the confines of Sarah's office, the atmosphere crackled with electric anticipation.
At last she found it!!!
A very minute yet important detail in the file that seemed to lead back to the link between Vivian Donovan and the sisters. Now it was confirmed that The sisters Emily and Dorothy were together with Vivian back in high school. They used to study together. And more or less they entered school in the same year as well… but Emily had left the school a year before her graduation.
Sarah had many questions… how they were linked, were they friends? Were they enemies? Were they ever in same class? Why Emily left the school just a year before her graduation? What about Dorothy? If Vivian really is the killed how she killed them? Mark is also killed her then, it's the same person… and then 10 years ago, too….
but all in all, This was a great discovery and a milestone achieved in the whole investigation. With the moon-shaped clue and the reflection of the glasses still fresh in her mind, Sarah was prepared to dive deeper into the labyrinthine mystery. The truth was out there, and she was determined to uncover it—no matter the cost. Don't know it was pride or her prejudice that she was hell bent on convicting Vivian Donovan of the murder. It was her gut feeling that told her Vivian was the murderer.
And Maybe she was right…
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter
Bad Daughter: Chapter 8
New
accuscripter
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Apr 2, 2025
- Messages
- 21
- Likes received
- 17
"Ms. Vivian, there's a man outside who's been waiting to meet you for the last hour."
Vivian glanced up from her desk, her fingers pausing on the pen that had been dancing across the pages of a report. Her round spectacles caught the last rays of the setting sun, casting a faint crescent reflection on the desk. "He hasn't left yet?" she asked, her voice calm but edged with annoyance.
"No, ma'am. He insists he will stay here until you meet him," Sophia replied, her voice tinged with reluctance. She hesitated, her eyes darting nervously around the room. "About the security issues..."
Vivian's gaze sharpened as she looked through her glasses, the fading sunlight framing her face in a halo of golden light. "He won't do anything," she said with quiet confidence. "But for the last time, try to send him away. If he causes any problem, let me know."
Sophia nodded, her worry evident as she left the room. Vivian turned her attention to the window, the setting sun casting chromatic rays that bathed her shadowed cold heart in a warm glow. She put down her head, her face toward the window and closed her eyes, feeling a moment of serene detachment, as if she could photosynthesize the calm of the setting sun into her being. Breathing deeply, she tried to empty her mind of all thoughts, letting the day's stresses dissipate into the warm dusk.
As the light faded and the office darkened, Vivian snapped back to reality. She resumed her work with renewed focus, the day's tasks gradually coming to a close. The office around her was silent, the usual bustle replaced by an eerie stillness.
Vivian finally closed her last file and looked around. The only lights on were in her office; the rest of the building was cloaked in darkness, indicating that everyone else had already gone home. A sense of unease prickled at her, and she hastily packed her things, feeling the oppressive weight of the darkened halls pressing in on her. She exited her office, the sound of her heels echoing ominously as she crossed the corridor to the lift. As the doors opened, she stepped inside, hoping to slip away unnoticed. But when she reached the lobby, a familiar figure caught her eye. There was a man seated in the waiting area, his back turned to her.
Vivian's breath hitched. She quickly held a file in front of her face, attempting to pass by unnoticed. But her heels betrayed her, clicking sharply against the marble floor. The sound seemed to echo endlessly in the silent lobby, drawing unwanted attention. As the man stood, his movements slow and deliberate, Vivian's heart raced. She could feel his gaze settle on her, an invisible weight that made her pulse quicken.
"Viva," he called softly, his voice carrying a note of desperation that cut through the stillness.
She froze, the name hanging in the air like a ghost from the past. She refused to meet his eyes, staring straight ahead with a rigid posture. "I told you not to call me by that name," she hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. It was a name she had long distanced herself from, a piece of her history she preferred to forget.
The man, paused. He lifted his hands in a placating gesture, a peace offering in the midst of a brewing storm.
He was in his late twenties, his appearance disheveled and worn, as if life's hardships had taken their toll on him. His clothes were shabby, his hair unruly, but there was a certain rugged handsomeness about him, a latent charisma that was getting eroded by the traumas of life that were wearing him down...
"Okay, okay, I won't," he soothed, his voice gentle and conciliatory. "Ms. Donovan, you don't even want to see your brother?" he said with a gale smile
Vivian's eyes flashed with anger, a fire igniting within her. "STOP IT! You're not my brother!" Her voice echoed through the empty lobby, the sound bouncing off the walls like a painful confession, reverberating with years of unresolved tension and bearing witness to this unsolemn testimonial of an unbreakable break up....
Rupert approached slowly, undeterred by her outburst. His movements were familiar, almost resigned, as if this was a dance they had performed many times before. There was a weary acceptance in his eyes, a reflection of countless encounters marked by rejection and hurt. As he drew closer, Vivian's phone buzzed in her bag, shattering the moment's intensity. She seized the distraction, answering the call with a hurried urgency, using it as an excuse to escape the confrontation.
Rupert watched her retreat, his expression a mix of resignation and sorrow. His shoulders sagged slightly, but he did not turn away. As Vivian reached her car, he followed, his steps slow but determined, as if each one carried the weight of his resolve.
Vivian started her car, her hands trembling as she gripped the steering wheel. She glanced in the rear view mirror, catching a glimpse of Rupert standing in the headlights' glow. Suddenly, he appeared in front of the vehicle, forcing her to slam on the brakes. The car jerked violently, the force throwing her forward against the seatbelt. In the confusion, Rupert swiftly opened the back door and slipped into the car, shutting the door behind him with a decisive click.
Vivian's anger flared, her eyes blazing with fury as she turned to face him. "Get out of my car!" she demanded, her voice tight with barely controlled rage. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Rupert merely held onto the seatbelt, his expression calm and composed. "I'm not leaving," he said quietly, his voice carrying a steely determination.
Before Vivian could respond, the parking attendant approached, motioning for her to move out of the lot. The attendant's presence was a silent but firm reminder of the need to maintain order. Frustrated and out of options, Vivian reluctantly drove off, the tension in the car thickening like a storm cloud ready to burst.
The ride was silent, the air heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. The weight of their shared history hung between them, palpable and suffocating. Vivian gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles white with the effort. She could feel Rupert's gaze on her, a silent question lingering in the space between them.
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter
Vivian glanced up from her desk, her fingers pausing on the pen that had been dancing across the pages of a report. Her round spectacles caught the last rays of the setting sun, casting a faint crescent reflection on the desk. "He hasn't left yet?" she asked, her voice calm but edged with annoyance.
"No, ma'am. He insists he will stay here until you meet him," Sophia replied, her voice tinged with reluctance. She hesitated, her eyes darting nervously around the room. "About the security issues..."
Vivian's gaze sharpened as she looked through her glasses, the fading sunlight framing her face in a halo of golden light. "He won't do anything," she said with quiet confidence. "But for the last time, try to send him away. If he causes any problem, let me know."
Sophia nodded, her worry evident as she left the room. Vivian turned her attention to the window, the setting sun casting chromatic rays that bathed her shadowed cold heart in a warm glow. She put down her head, her face toward the window and closed her eyes, feeling a moment of serene detachment, as if she could photosynthesize the calm of the setting sun into her being. Breathing deeply, she tried to empty her mind of all thoughts, letting the day's stresses dissipate into the warm dusk.
As the light faded and the office darkened, Vivian snapped back to reality. She resumed her work with renewed focus, the day's tasks gradually coming to a close. The office around her was silent, the usual bustle replaced by an eerie stillness.
Vivian finally closed her last file and looked around. The only lights on were in her office; the rest of the building was cloaked in darkness, indicating that everyone else had already gone home. A sense of unease prickled at her, and she hastily packed her things, feeling the oppressive weight of the darkened halls pressing in on her. She exited her office, the sound of her heels echoing ominously as she crossed the corridor to the lift. As the doors opened, she stepped inside, hoping to slip away unnoticed. But when she reached the lobby, a familiar figure caught her eye. There was a man seated in the waiting area, his back turned to her.
Vivian's breath hitched. She quickly held a file in front of her face, attempting to pass by unnoticed. But her heels betrayed her, clicking sharply against the marble floor. The sound seemed to echo endlessly in the silent lobby, drawing unwanted attention. As the man stood, his movements slow and deliberate, Vivian's heart raced. She could feel his gaze settle on her, an invisible weight that made her pulse quicken.
"Viva," he called softly, his voice carrying a note of desperation that cut through the stillness.
She froze, the name hanging in the air like a ghost from the past. She refused to meet his eyes, staring straight ahead with a rigid posture. "I told you not to call me by that name," she hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. It was a name she had long distanced herself from, a piece of her history she preferred to forget.
The man, paused. He lifted his hands in a placating gesture, a peace offering in the midst of a brewing storm.
He was in his late twenties, his appearance disheveled and worn, as if life's hardships had taken their toll on him. His clothes were shabby, his hair unruly, but there was a certain rugged handsomeness about him, a latent charisma that was getting eroded by the traumas of life that were wearing him down...
"Okay, okay, I won't," he soothed, his voice gentle and conciliatory. "Ms. Donovan, you don't even want to see your brother?" he said with a gale smile
Vivian's eyes flashed with anger, a fire igniting within her. "STOP IT! You're not my brother!" Her voice echoed through the empty lobby, the sound bouncing off the walls like a painful confession, reverberating with years of unresolved tension and bearing witness to this unsolemn testimonial of an unbreakable break up....
Rupert approached slowly, undeterred by her outburst. His movements were familiar, almost resigned, as if this was a dance they had performed many times before. There was a weary acceptance in his eyes, a reflection of countless encounters marked by rejection and hurt. As he drew closer, Vivian's phone buzzed in her bag, shattering the moment's intensity. She seized the distraction, answering the call with a hurried urgency, using it as an excuse to escape the confrontation.
Rupert watched her retreat, his expression a mix of resignation and sorrow. His shoulders sagged slightly, but he did not turn away. As Vivian reached her car, he followed, his steps slow but determined, as if each one carried the weight of his resolve.
Vivian started her car, her hands trembling as she gripped the steering wheel. She glanced in the rear view mirror, catching a glimpse of Rupert standing in the headlights' glow. Suddenly, he appeared in front of the vehicle, forcing her to slam on the brakes. The car jerked violently, the force throwing her forward against the seatbelt. In the confusion, Rupert swiftly opened the back door and slipped into the car, shutting the door behind him with a decisive click.
Vivian's anger flared, her eyes blazing with fury as she turned to face him. "Get out of my car!" she demanded, her voice tight with barely controlled rage. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Rupert merely held onto the seatbelt, his expression calm and composed. "I'm not leaving," he said quietly, his voice carrying a steely determination.
Before Vivian could respond, the parking attendant approached, motioning for her to move out of the lot. The attendant's presence was a silent but firm reminder of the need to maintain order. Frustrated and out of options, Vivian reluctantly drove off, the tension in the car thickening like a storm cloud ready to burst.
The ride was silent, the air heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. The weight of their shared history hung between them, palpable and suffocating. Vivian gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles white with the effort. She could feel Rupert's gaze on her, a silent question lingering in the space between them.
Your support, fuel my creativity and help me craft more thrilling and suspense stories like this one. Your support means everything to me, and I'd be forever grateful if you joined me on this writing adventure.follow me on (P)(A)(T)(R)(E)(O)(N) .com / Accuscripter