The stage lights, a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues, painted Amora Jackson's face in a spectrum of brilliance. The roar of the crowd, a wave of adoration, washed over her as she belted out the final note, her powerful voice echoing through the arena. She was Amora, the Siren, a name whispered in awe by millions. Tonight, the world was her oyster, her voice a shimmering pearl.

But the euphoria that usually followed such performances felt muted tonight. A subtle unease, a prickling sensation at the back of her neck, clung to her like a shadow. It had been creeping in for weeks, slowly eroding the initial bliss of her relationship with Donte Thompson.

Donte, a man sculpted from marble and shadows, with eyes the color of a stormy sea and a smile that could melt glaciers. He was the antithesis of her vibrant life, yet he'd wormed his way into her heart with an unexpected tenderness. At first, the contrast had been alluring, a spark amidst the glittering chaos of her world. But now, that spark felt more like a flickering flame in a hurricane.

Their love story, like a beautifully composed song, had started with a perfect harmony. He was attentive, his gaze never leaving her, his touch a comforting warmth. He'd swept her off her feet with his quiet strength and deep-seated loyalty, a stark difference from the fickle nature of the industry she inhabited. He was her grounding force, her anchor in the turbulent sea of fame.

But lately, the harmony had become discordant. Donte's silences had grown deeper, his sharp, emerald eyes holding a cold intensity that unsettled her. He was distant, preoccupied with things he wouldn't discuss. His answers to her questions were enigmatic, laced with a veiled ambiguity that left her feeling like she was treading through quicksand.

Amora, a woman who always wore her emotions on her sleeve, found herself constantly battling a tide of anxiety. She missed the easy laughter, the playful banter that had once defined their connection. Instead, she was met with a wall of impassivity, a mystery she couldn't unravel.

Her intuition, a powerful tool honed through years of navigating the treacherous music scene, screamed at her. Something was wrong, something…off.

Backstage, the cacophony of crew members and chattering fans faded into a dull hum as Amora stared at her reflection. Her usual radiant smile felt strained, almost foreign on her face. The hazel eyes that usually sparkled with mischief and light were now clouded with a simmering unease.

Her phone buzzed, the familiar vibration of Donte's name breaking through the haze of her thoughts. She hesitated, a knot forming in her stomach. Part of her yearned for his comforting presence, the illusion of normalcy he provided. But the other part, the part her intuition was screaming at her to listen to, recoiled.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice a soft whisper.

"Amora," his voice, a low baritone, filled the silence. "I need you to come to me. Now."

The urgency in his tone sent a shiver down her spine. It confirmed the growing dread in her heart. Something was deeply wrong, and she was about to find out just how deeply.

TG- SH [I’ll try to stop writing about it after this. It’s just been rough. We’ll see I guess.]

The girl at the sink won’t roll up her sleeves Hoping and praying that nobody sees

Covered

She laughs with her friends pretending it’s fine They don’t know she’s dying inside

A mask

Alone in her room where colors fee muted Battling the thoughts that whisper “just end it”

Depression

Now these lines are etched into her skin The self hatred like acid burning within Pain

A punishment

Just the pain of existing, it cuts like that knife Starting to wondering if it’s worth living this life

Death

These cuts and these scratches they burn bright red Starting to wonder if I’d rather be dead

Ending

"Matthew?" I call out in the empty room. He is usually first to get to the room, so this is a surprise. I frown and switch on the light. I sit on the cold, hard, concrete ground for at least 5 minutes.

I look at the bag in my lap. It's only, worn out, but hold our precious treat. A bag with 6 green, 6 yellow Warheads. I was only going to use one of each tonight, that is, if he shows up.

I sigh and wait at least another 5 minutes. Maybe he's busy. Or late. Or forgot. I don't know. I start to cry soft tears and I think about Matthew, which makes my cry even more. I must have been sobbing loudly, because Ms. Debbie barges in.

"What are you doing in here young lady?!"

"I'm sorry Ms. Debbie," I wipe the tears from my face and hope she doesn't ask.

"Get back to work!"

"Yes, Ms. Debbie."

The last tear falls from my face and I leave the room, with no Matthew to be found.

Aidan had always prided himself on his keen sense of intuition, a trait that served him well in his line of work as a private investigator. One rainy evening, as he made his way home through the narrow, cobbled streets of his city, he noticed a woman standing under a streetlamp. She was dressed in a long, dark coat, her face partially hidden by a wide-brimmed hat. Something about her posture, the way she stood so still and silent, sent a shiver down his spine.

"Excuse me," she called out as Aidan passed by. Her voice was soft but carried an undertone that made him stop in his tracks. "Could you help me with something?"

Aidan approached her cautiously. "Sure. What do you need?"

"I'm looking for someone. A man named Markos. Have you heard of him?" Her eyes, a piercing shade of blue, locked onto his with an intensity that was almost unsettling.

Aidan nodded slowly. "I know of him. Why are you looking for Markos?"

"He has something that belongs to me," she replied, her voice growing even softer. "Something very important."

There was an edge to her tone now, a hint of desperation that didn't quite match her calm demeanor. Aidan's instincts were screaming at him that something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"I might be able to help," he said, deciding to play along. "Why don't we talk somewhere a bit more private?"

She hesitated, glancing around the empty street before nodding. "There's a café around the corner. It's usually quiet at this time of night."

As they walked, Aidan tried to glean more information from her, but she deftly deflected his questions. They entered the café and took a secluded booth at the back. The woman ordered a cup of tea, her hands trembling slightly as she held the menu.

"I'm sorry," she said abruptly. "I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Evelyn."

Aidan extended his hand. "Aidan. Nice to meet you, Evelyn."

Evelyn's grip was firm, yet cold. "So, how do you know Markos?" she asked, her eyes boring into his.

"I worked with him on a few cases," Aidan replied, watching her carefully. "He can be... difficult to track down."

Evelyn's lips curled into a small, almost predatory smile. "I'm sure you have your ways."

As their conversation continued, Aidan couldn't shake the feeling that Evelyn was hiding something. Her story was too vague, her emotions too controlled. When she excused herself to go to the restroom, he took the opportunity to do a quick search on his phone. What he found made his blood run cold.

Evelyn Donovan was reported missing two years ago, presumed dead after a boating accident. The photo accompanying the article was unmistakably her, though she looked much healthier and happier in the picture.

When Evelyn returned, Aidan's mind was racing. He needed to find out who she really was and what she wanted with Markos. But he had to be careful—whoever she was, she wasn't just some damsel in distress.

"Evelyn," he said, keeping his voice steady. "I think you should tell me the real reason you're looking for Markos."

Her eyes flashed with a mixture of surprise and anger. "I don't know what you mean."

"You're not who you say you are. Evelyn Donovan went missing two years ago."

For a moment, Evelyn's facade cracked. Fear and rage flickered across her face before she composed herself. "You don't understand," she whispered urgently. "I need to find him before it's too late."

"Too late for what?" Aidan pressed.

Before she could answer, the café door swung open, and a tall man in a dark suit entered. He scanned the room, his eyes settling on Evelyn with a look of recognition and menace.

"We need to go," Evelyn hissed, grabbing Aidan's arm. "Now!"

Aidan didn't hesitate. As they bolted out the back door, he knew he was in deeper than he ever anticipated. Evelyn had secrets, and whatever they were, they had just put both their lives in grave danger.

I finally mustered up the courage and texted Jordin.

Hey -delivered- . . . . Hey -seen- __

_Uh oh. You aren’t in a good mood. _ __

_Wdym _ -seen-

You didn’t add y’s to the end of hey and you just abbreviated. What’s the matter?

I sighed. __ _I just feel like your…drifting away I guess. And I could be wrong and I’m sorry if I am I’m just paranoid and want to make sure everything is ok and that it isn’t my fault. _ _-_seen- …

It stayed at the … for a minute like he was typing a whole thing out.

I’m sorry Cass. You aren’t wrong. I’m being distant but not because of you. Nothing will ever be your fault ok? I’m ok rn and we’re ok. I don’t want to talk about what’s going on just yet but I will once I get the yk…courage too ig?

Oh. I guess he did type a huge paragraph. __ __ _Okay, I’m glad we’re ok. And you. But I’m here when your ready. _ -seen- __ __ __ … __ You’re*

I rolled my eyes.

_Shut up. _ __ -seen- __ __ _Haha talk to you later xoxo. _ __ __ Xoxo -seen- __ __

So I guess everything’s ok…but I wonder what’s wrong. __ __

Jim is an ordinary young man who works for a company, his daily life is like two points and one line. He works hard to make his life better and easier.

Jim has been dating someone new, her name is Juliana. They quickly fall in love after their second meeting in the library. From that day on, Jim cares about Juliana, and Juliana cares about Jim; they are the happiest they have been in a long time and everything seemed perfect. They have even talked about getting married, and Juliana wishes to have a girl with Jim.

But lately, all this wonderful imaginations have been thrown away, because something has started to seem very strange. Their new lover walks into their world. Amy and Andrew are brother and sister to each other, they have planned to broke up Jim and Juliana. 

One day, Amy was walking on the street, and she fell to get attention from Jim. When Juliana came back, she saw Amy was kissing her love one, and Jim is stunned, because he was just trying to help Amy to stand up, but didn’t know Amy would kiss him, and exactly the moment Juliana came back. She felt sad, angry and disappointed; and left Jim without looking back…

On the way back home, Juliana was tracked by someone, suddenly a man came up from behind to grab her hand; Andrew appeared with power and handsome to save her. And this scene was planned by Andrew, to show his faked heart of Justice. Juliana didn’t know this was just an acting, she began to trust Andrew and gradually developed a liking for him, eventually become lovers with Andrew.

It was a weekend, Jim, Juliana with their new lovers were walking around the Mall. They saw each other, Jim with guilt feeling while Amy was holding his hand, snuggling in his arm. Juliana with angry eyes, she kissed Andrew in front of Jim’s eyes. When they passed by face to face, Amy and Andrew made eye contact to each other, they were excited about breaking up Jim and Juliana. Moreover, Amy and Andrew even got married at this point. What a mess relationship! 

Time comes to now, Jim feels very guilt and shame about what he did, he wants to get out. He accidentally found a video about Amy and Andrew, quickly realized what happened. At this moment, what Jim cares most about is Juliana. He ran to Juliana’s home, and saw her mouth taped up, hands and legs tied, sat on the floor. Amy and Andrew already there waiting for him. “You’re going to save her, right?” Andrew said. Jim quickly catches Andrew, and throws him down. The policemen come in and arrested Andrew and Amy. On the way here, Jim called 911. 

Everything returns to calm, Jim and Juliana are walking along side the river. Jim to be the first to say sorry, “Juliana, my dear, sorry I made you disappointed. I promise you I will only love you for the rest of my life. Would you…” Juliana then said, “Sorry honey, I made you worried…” She turned around because she was blushing and shy. Jim holds her hands, kneels down on one knee, and asks “Ms. Juliana, would you marry me?” Juliana looks into Jim’s eyes, she feels this is her true love. “Yes!” Juliana answers. Jim takes out a wedding ring from his pocket, he bought this ring right after their second meeting in the library. Jim put the wedding ring on Juliana that symbolized the memories that only belonged to the two of them. Jim held Juliana’s hand and continued walking together along side the river… 

The End.

That seems odd. It’s like a fraud. Missing for days at a time. Causing me to whine. No explanation. No relaxation. No hesitation. Just comes back as if they’ve never been gone. Like nothings wrong. Then things are great. No hate, no weight, Just happiness.

When Lauren first met Zachary, he seemed like the perfect guy. He was sweet, funny, and loved her for who she was. He didn't even mind the scars on her face, which were brutal reminders of the car accident she had as a teenager. He told her they were beautiful because they were a part of her. She thought she had found her soulmate.

After dating for only a few months, Lauren moved into Zachary's house. Things were absolutely wonderful.

Until they weren’t.

After a while, she began to see a darker side of him. He started coming home late almost every night, claiming he was working late. Eventually, Lauren's curiosity got the best of her. She called his boss one night, only to find out he had been clocking out at 10 PM every night. He hadn't been coming home until two or three in the morning. Lauren's stomach churned as she processed this information. If he wasn't at work, where was he? The question gnawed at her, a constant source of anxiety and suspicion.

When he was home, Zachary spent most of his time in the basement, avoiding Lauren. "What’s wrong, baby? Are you upset with me?" she asked one night as he descended the stairs. He stopped halfway with his back to her.

"Nothing's wrong, honey. I'm fine. Just stress from work." His voice was distant.

"Of course I'm not mad at you, babe. I could never be mad at you. You're the light of my life," he added, turning around with a forced smile. His eyes, however, remained cold and empty. Muddy brown pools of nothingness.

Lauren stared at him for a moment, studying his face. She found it hard to believe how much he seemed to have aged in such a short span of time. Deep wrinkles lined his forehead and the corners of his eyes. His features seemed weary, and the stubble on his face was worse than she had ever seen it. She wanted to call him out on his lies, tell him he was a liar, and interrogate him about his whereabouts and his coming home late every night. But ultimately, she decided against it. What if she was wrong? What if he was really just stressed?

Things continued this way for the next few weeks. Zachary continued to do as he pleased, and Lauren continued to let it go. They had only been together for a few months, and she didn't want him to think she was being overbearing or paranoid. She figured he would slip up eventually. So she began watching him more closely. Not only was he coming home late from work, but he was acting strangely. He was short with her, often staring into space as if his mind was drifting on some distant planet. And he was always, always in a hurry to get down those steps.

What is he hiding down there? Is there someone else? The thoughts plagued her every waking moment.

One night, while Zachary was out late once again, Lauren decided to snoop around. She had always avoided the basement because of her bad knee – another lingering injury from the car wreck. But tonight, it was time to investigate. Slowly, she carefully worked her way down the steep steps. Her pulse quickened with each creak of the wood beneath her feet. She held her breath, silently praying that tonight wouldn’t be the one night he decided to come home on time. What am I doing? What if he catches me?

She halted in her tracks when the strong burning scent of bleach suddenly hit her nostrils. The odor was so strong it nearly gagged her. But she held her nose and continued her descent. Why would he need so much bleach?

At the bottom, she pulled a string hanging from the ceiling. A dim lightbulb flickered on overhead, revealing various clutter and old odds and ends. For the most part, it looked like a typical unfinished basement of a 35-year-old guy. But as she inspected further, she found strange things. In the corner, she spotted an old jailhouse cot. Holes were drilled into the wall with two sets of handcuffs attached. They hung parallel to one another, positioned where someone's arms would be if they were lying on the cot.

"What the hell?" she muttered. Her brow furrowed as she moved closer. Stains, which looked like fresh blood, marred the cot. Her heart pounded as she began rifling through nearby drawers. The items she discovered inside were even more unsettling: rope, duct tape, knives, and a bag of lye. Lauren‘s mind reeled. Panic bubbled up from within her, threatening to spill over. What the fuck had he been doing down here?

She was ready to dash back up the stairs when she heard a whimpering sound coming from an old, non-working deep freezer. Her blood ran cold. No. Please, no. Recoiling, she covered her mouth. "That can't be human. That cannot be human," she repeated in her mind, half denying what she already knew. The whimpering came again, louder this time. Steeling herself, she slowly approached the freezer. Her hands trembled as she lifted the lid.

Inside lay a young woman, no older than 19, gagged, bound, and terrified. Her hair was a disheveled mess of dirty blonde knots. Dried blood stained her thighs and hands, and she wore only underwear and a ripped yellow tank top.

"Oh my God!" Lauren whispered, hot tears stinging her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. A relentless tornado of unanswerable questions began to flood her mind. How long has she been here? Why didn't I notice something sooner? She ran to the drawer with the knives, grabbed one, and began cutting the girl loose. She removed the duct tape from her lips. She helped the young girl out of the freezer. The girl immediately collapsed into Lauren‘s arms. The two of them fell to the concrete floor together, huddled in a close embrace. Her frail body shook with fear as she clutched at Lauren‘s clothing, her knuckles white from gripping so hard. She buried her face into Lauren‘s thick black hair as her shoulders racked with uncontrollable sobs.

Lauren hugged the girl back tightly, trying her best to be of some comfort. She felt as if she had entered the twilight zone. What the fuck was going on? And why the fuck was it happening? ‘’Shh,’’ she soothed, gently rocking the girl back and forth. “You’re OK now. He’s not going to hurt you. I promise." Salty tears continued to trace their path down her cheeks as she stroked the girl’s hair. “Why didn’t you make some type of noise? To let me know you were down here?” she asked the girl curiously. She just couldn’t understand any of this. How could she not have known?

The girl blubbered unintelligibly, sputtering nonsensical words between each hysterical sob.

“I can’t understand you, honey,” Lauren said softly, pulling back to look into the girl’s horror-filled eyes. “Look at me. You’re OK now. It’s OK.”

The girl took deep breaths, trying to calm herself, as she looked back at Lauren intently. Her body still trembled as she lowered her eyes. “He told me you were in on this. And that if you heard me, you would kill me!” she said quietly, before collapsing into Lauren‘s arms once more. The sobbing continued, and Lauren continued to rock her back and forth.

Lauren's face hardened. “That motherfucker. That psychotic fucking bastard,” she thought to herself.

Just as she was about to escape with the girl, she heard the creak of the basement door opening. Her heart dropped into her stomach. Zachary appeared at the top of the steps, looking eerily calm, considering the circumstances.

"I was hoping you wouldn't find out this way," he said flatly, gazing at her with a resigned expression. "I suppose you'll have to die now."

My heart used to bleed My soul used to ache My head used to spin I used to break

Then came the doll maker Who promised to fix me He promised he delivered Now im regretting

Stole all my pain, my joy, my emotion Painted a face that would last forever

Heart no longer bleeds It’s all been drained It no longer loves But it no longer pains

Ripped out my soul and dumped out contents My thoughts seem to stop. I sit in the darkness

Sewed me back up with nothing inside Never again would I smile Never again would I cry

I don’t feel the pain All my emotions taken Just a doll on a shelf My soul numb and vacant

Red bell peppers and pineapple chunks, Aunt Dorcas’ new potato salad had everything but ants. With a big wooden spoon, Helena stirred the unappetizering mess. Mom yelled at Sophie’s kids to stop leaving the back door open and letting out the good air. Embarrassed Helena’s eyes sought Colm’s. He was watching her with a smile looking over her PopPop’s head.

Somebody slammed the sliding glass door. Helena tucked her aunt’s salad beneath the store bought tray of cookies. She fingered her necklace, the latest gift from Colm. He told her he had made especially for her. Dad was trying to figure out the remote control. Tickling the baby with his head, Nicky was pretending to be a dinosaur.

The baby started crying. With nervous fingers, Helene struggled to get the plastic off the good plastic plates. She so wanted her loud, messy family to make a good first impression on Colm. Her hand lingered over the necklace, remembering how Colm’s hands felt on her skin. She couldn’t believe how he swept her off her feet, the attention, the gifts, she could barely get them to leave her apartment.

Dad and Sophie were arguing over the big screen. Grandma took the baby to be changed. Her girlfriends said things with Colm were moving hella fast. Sure he could be a little clingy but no one had ever made her feel so treasured. Catching his eye, hand on her throat, Helene gave Colm a devilish grin. Jumping in her face, Nicky grabbed at Helene’s nose. They play boxed and knocked over some of the pickle tray. Smacking Nicky away with her dishcloth, Mom fussed over the spread. Helene kicked the olives under the dining room table for old Buster to eat.

“Now let me tell you what I think about this so called January 6th insurrection…” PopPop said to Colm.

Helene’s new boyfriend’s eyebrows rose in alarm. Fast as a fawn, Helene stepped over the old family dog and ran to save Colm from PopPop’s political commentary. The big screen TV flashed to life.

“Police Chief Horne has announced a special task force to investigate the slaying of Paula Greene, the most recent victim of the Glenside Killer,” the newscaster said.

Looking at the happy, smiling photo on the screen, Helene stopped mid step. She never realized how much Paula looked like herself, right down to the necklace, two hands in a heart shape holding a moonstone. Sophie grabbed the remote from Dad and switched the channel to soccer. Swallowing hard, Helene didn’t want to look at her lover, her one good thing.

The world tilted. Suddenly Colm was in front of her. Whispering reassuring lies, he held her. His head pressed against the smooth slope of her shoulder. His powerful hands trapped her waist. Embarrassed Helene looked around. She didn’t want to make a scene, not in front of everyone.

Aunt Dorcas and Grandma came out with the baby, naked except for her diaper. Mom was screaming about who gave the dog olives. Dad muted, unmuted, and muted the tv again. Outside the window, Nicky was drinking a beer and spraying the kids with the garden hose. Quietly Colm led Helene to the sofa holding her hand tightly.

“Look at the love birds,” mom whispered to the dog. “Nicky stop letting out my good air!”