It wasn’t until the man dragged me out of the closet that I finally understood the "gift" Sophia had cruelly hinted at. The real gift wasn’t just her betrayal—it was a hired killer. She had actually paid someone to take my life.
I tried to scream, but the killer’s hand clamped over my mouth with a crushing force, making my jaw feel like it was about to snap. My eyes welled with desperate tears, each drop fueling the man’s sick pleasure. His lips curled into a twisted grin as he raised the knife, slowly dragging it across my skin. Every cut was precise and methodical, exposing layers of muscle and bone, the blood spilling out like a flood.
Through muffled sobs, I could only think of Daniel. He had once been my anchor, my protector. Even the smallest sign of discomfort used to send him into a panic, fussing over me. Where had that man gone? Why had he changed?
The killer reveled in my suffering. As I lay there, broken and bleeding, he snatched up my phone and took a picture of my mutilated body. Without hesitation, he sent it to Daniel. The screen lit up with a notification, and my heart—what was left of it—froze when Daniel’s reply came through.