TRIGGER WARNING
The following chapter includes content not meant for young audiences or audiences who do not wish to read about mature topics such as r*pe and child abuse/ psychological abuse. Please read at your own risk or skip the chapter.
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Secrets
We all have them.
The ones we hide from the world—whether to protect who we are, or to cling to the last threads of sanity. Knowing your secret is still safe can be the only thing keeping you grounded.
No one should know.No one will know.No one was ever meant to.
Sophia Harper had one too. A secret that clung to her for years, carved into her skin like invisible scars. It haunted her, stealing sleep from countless nights. A burden too heavy to share.
Let's be honest—secrets like these don't just hurt. They destroy.They gnaw at your soul until you're just a hollow shell, performing the motions of a life you can no longer feel.
This secret?It had the power to ruin everything Sophia had worked for. One whisper of it, and the carefully constructed life she'd bled to build would crumble into dust.
So she guarded it like a dying ember.
But that was then.
Now, Sophia lay half-naked on a stone-cold floor, her fingers crushed into a mess of mangled flesh and bone. Her legs—sliced and bloodied from the knees down—barely moved. Her moans, strange and almost delirious, filled the silence. She felt hot, fevered, hollow. And still, somehow… she felt nothing at all.
Why?Why was she here?Why was her body writhing like an addict's—desperate for drugs she never wanted, begging for touches that once repulsed her?
Her secret wasn't hidden anymore. It had been ripped open and paraded like a grotesque exhibit. And the one who orchestrated it all?
Her father.
The same man who had doted on her for nearly three decades. Who smiled as he gave her gifts. Who told her he was proud.
He was the architect of her downfall.
With her beloved half-sister and her fiancé—two people she had loved and trusted—they conspired to exploit her. She became their puppet, their breadwinner, while they feasted on the fruits of her labor behind gilded walls. Even her engagement had been a farce. She caught her fiancé in bed with her half-sister—only to be told that he loved Layla more.
Could a life be more tragic than this?
A more grotesque betrayal?
Her mind spiraled from one horror to the next. Years of emotional decay. Of manipulation. Of being sold to strangers weekly like a thing, not a person. And every time the drugs wore off, her body screamed for more. She hated herself for it. For craving what hurt her. For feeling pleasure even as she was violated.
But in time, numbness became her shield.
Now, even that pain had dulled into white noise.
Sophia no longer hoped for escape. She didn't fantasize about revenge. She didn't pray.
All she wanted was to be free.
But she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of ending it on their terms.
She wouldn't take her own life.
She'd wait. Let them be the monsters they were. Let them end it.
That would be her final victory.
Layla Harper stood in the doorway like royalty—perfectly dressed, voice syrupy sweet. Her designer heels clicked across the floor as she leaned into her fiancé's chest. Jackson. The same man who once proposed to Sophia.
"Our wedding is tomorrow," she cooed. "Should we give her an early gift?"
Jackson smirked. "Of course, darling. We should thank her properly."
He clapped twice.
The door opened. Men in black suits entered, unfazed by Sophia's bloodied, twitching body. With practiced ease, they piled her old clothes around her—garments she once gifted Layla before betrayal made a mockery of kindness. Then, they drenched the pile with gasoline, soaking Sophia in the process.
And left.
Layla walked over, stepping onto Sophia's chest with her stiletto, like a queen presiding over the conquered.
"Dear sister," she whispered, "you've become so expensive. The drugs, the men… they've cost us so much. But don't worry. We found a solution."
She pressed harder.
A sickening crunch echoed as her heel dug into Sophia's ribs.
Then came the kicks. Over and over, until Sophia curled up, coughing and wheezing, broken again.
Satisfied, Layla strolled back to Jackson.
"You could've hurt your foot," he murmured, handing her a lighter. "Shall we?"
Layla smiled. "Goodbye, sister."
The flame lit. The lighter fell.
The ring of gasoline exploded into fire.
They stood and watched for a moment—two devils basking in the blaze—before turning and leaving without a word.
Smoke filled the room. Heat engulfed Sophia.
And still, she smiled.
A real one.
Not from madness. Not from defeat.
From peace.
She hadn't given up.She didn't take the easy way out.They did this.
And now, finally… she was free.
As fire licked at her skin and her vision blurred, a single tear cut through soot-covered cheeks.
A last thought pierced her crumbling mind:
Where did it all go wrong?
The flames took her.
And Sophia Harper was gone.