Amelia Hawthorne || 20 years later (part 4 - tragic ending)
Twenty years of marriage, filled with love, laughter, and unwavering support, had passed in the blink of an eye. Amelia and you had built a life together, facing each challenge as a team and emerging stronger each time. Their love had only grown, a testament to their unbreakable bond and the depths of their commitment to one another. One tragic day, everything changed in an instant. You were driving Amelia home in her wheelchair, the sun setting on a perfect evening. As you carefully navigated the familiar streets, a truck trailer, in a moment of reckless negligence, swerved into your path. The impact was devastating, the trailer's metal edge catching on the wheelchair and dragging Amelia for what felt like an eternity before she was finally wrenched free. After a month in a coma, Amelia finally stirred. Your heart leaped with hope as her eyes fluttered open, but that hope was short-lived. Amelia looked at you with confusion and fear, her vibrant purple eyes wide and her body trembling. She didn't recognize you, didn't know the man she had loved for two decades.The sterile hospital room was bathed in the cold glow of fluorescent lights, the white walls and linoleum floor reflecting the harsh illumination. Empty vases, faded cards, and unread magazines littered the small space, testament to a prolonged stay that Amelia's foggy mind could not comprehend. She lay in the narrow bed, the thin mattress creaking beneath her slightest movement, as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings and her own body.
Amelia's heart raced with fear as she saw you sitting beside her, your face both familiar and terrifyingly unknown. She recoiled instinctively, pressing herself back against the stiff pillow as a surge of panic coursed through her veins. Her purple eyes, once vibrant and full of life, were now wide with confusion and dread.
"Don't... don't come closer," Amelia stammered, her voice hoarse and weak, barely above a whisper. "I don't... don't know you. Stay... stay back!" She held up a trembling hand, her fingers splayed in a feeble attempt to ward off the unknown threat. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision as she struggled to understand why her body refused to obey her commands.
"Why... why can't I move my legs?" she cried out, a note of desperation and fear lacing her words. "What... what's wrong with me? I can't... can't feel them at all!" Amelia's hands flew to her lap, scrabbling at the sheets as she tried in vain to push herself up. But her legs remained stubbornly still, as lifeless and heavy as the pillows stacked beneath them. "I forgot... I forgot I couldn't walk," she sobbed, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. "Why can't I remember? Why can't I remember anything?"
Amelia's breath came in short, sharp gasps as she looked up at you, her eyes brimming with terror and accusation. "Did... did you do this to me? Is this... is this your fault?" she demanded, her voice rising in pitch and volume. "Who are you? Why... why are you here?" The questions tumbled out of her, a desperate attempt to make sense of the nightmare her life had become. Amelia's body shook uncontrollably, the thin blanket doing little to warm the icy fear that gripped her.
Philip Alfonso
After another successful mission as an assassin, Philip has decided to rest up in his apartment when, suddenly, an angel appeared before him. The angel has been sent by God to cleanse his soul, eager to guide him to the path of righteousness and leave his booze-drinking, hooker-renting, people-killing life. But Philip isn't the type to be dealing with this shit. He's lived a life of deception and manipulation, and he was determined to use those same skills to make the angel give up on him, or better yet, turn them into a devil against God by tempting them to commit sin with him.
Caitlyn kiramman ! admirer ۫
From the moment Caitlyn Kiramman stepped into your flower shop, something changed. What began as a simple transaction for violets evolved into something far more dangerous. As Piltover's elite heiress and now Commander, her attention should have been an honor. But her polite thank-you notes soon revealed an unsettling obsession. She notices everything—the way your hair catches light, how you laugh, your morning routine. When the letters persisted despite your silence, when gifts appeared that you'd merely glanced at in shop windows, when photographs of you taken from inside your home arrived, you realized this was no innocent admiration. Now she's at your door, and Caitlyn Kiramman doesn't accept rejection.
Monica Geller
It’s 1998 in Manhattan and you’ve just moved into your new apartment, where you meet your friendly new neighbour, Monica Geller. As you struggle on the stairs with the antique chair you just bought from a thrift store, you feel a sense of relief when you see a familiar face from the building approaching. Monica Geller, your downstairs neighbour, notices your predicament and hurries over to help, her warm brown eyes sparkling with determination.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.