Ariy

With her peculiar undiscovered powers comes a dangerous curse, but how would she know? She only saw herself as a feeble Omega, who is just lonely. Got kicked out by her father, because she wasn't worth to be a werewolf, she was discomfited and loathed him to the core. Her mother demise was already a big blow to her, and she never thought her father was going to replace her mother. In her vulnerable moment, she gave in wholly to her darkness unwittingly, and let her darkness rule her. It was unknown, if she might be the destroyer of the world, or the saviour of the world .........

**~~~~ synopsis ~~~~** Her freedom was taken, her dignity was crushed, her heart was shattered, the courage to keep going was shaken. She lost her parents and lost the one person, who stood by her who showered her with nothing but love and care. What will become of her? Good or bad? Will she still be herself again? ~~~~~~~ "What do you think of flowers?" Her grandmother asked out of the blue. "Flowers?...... Flowers are flowers Mama Liya." She smiled smugly and shook her head. "Have you ever heard of Black Eyed Susan?" Her grandmother asked again. "No. "Why all these questions Mama Liya?" She raised her eye brows and stretched her neck. She wasn't in the mood to know about any flowers at all, not when they are more important things to face right now. "I guess you are dumb in some aspects hun." Mama Liya mocked. Jane just rolled her eyes. "Who in the world spent alot of times learning about flowers?" "People who are dumb like you." Her grandmother said sarcastically and laughed lightly. Mama Liya wanted to motivate Jane again, cause she thought her granddaughter's hope was fading due to the things happening. "Black Eyed Susan is a flower, a special strong flower to be precise. Am telling you this because, I want you to have the spirit of a Black Eyed Susan. It a flower that symbolizes courage, strong will, justice, truth, and strength. "It has the power to survive anywhere, despite if the weather conditions are harsh. "So, I want you to use this to guide your life. It okay to get hurt, but don't get hurt for the same thing again." She advised her precious granddaughter and kissed the crown of her head. Jane actually thought that, Mama Liya will utter a tedious talk but was cut surprise. She was confounded. " Really? I didn't know flowers also has important meaning in life. But........." She paused and sighed. "I don't know if I can be like that. I mean am weak and meek, so am definitely sure I can't survive in this harsh and cruel world." Jane was sure she won't survive in this harsh world, and she wasn't ready to face any more problems, so she was certain the theme of a Black eyed Susan won't go for her. ~~~~~~

My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Damien Paul, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through. That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Eve—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister. But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Fellows talking in the library. They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Damien. Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Eve. I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen. This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Damien over. "No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Hunter Beach."

The last thing I felt was the pillow smothering my face, the cheap floral scent filling my lungs as my struggles grew weaker. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Ms. Davis' s chilling hiss: "You crazy girl, how dare you disrupt the young lady' s party! I' ll kill you!" She wasn' t lying. My life, so bright just hours before, was ending in a dark, dusty storage room. It all began on my graduation day, Sarah Miller, the valedictorian, standing on stage. But when I arrived at my family home for the lavish celebration, the doors were shut, my key wouldn' t turn. Inside, through the window, I saw Emily Davis, my guardian' s daughter, wearing my dress, accepting congratulations from my friends, being called by my name. A cold wave of nausea washed over me. I pounded on the door, screaming, "Let me in! I' m Sarah Miller! That' s an imposter!" No one believed me. They saw a frantic, disheveled girl and a poised, elegant young woman inside. Ms. Davis slapped me, shrieking, "How dare you disrupt the young lady' s party! I' ll kill you!" They dragged me away, threw me into a windowless storage room, and locked me in. Hours later, Ms. Davis returned with a pillow. "You just couldn' t leave it alone, could you?" she whispered. "You make too much noise." Then, she pushed it down. My consciousness dissolved into suffocating blackness. Then, I gasped, shooting upright. Sunlight streamed through a familiar window. I was in my bed, in my room at the Davis house. My heart pounded. The floral scent was gone. No pain, no darkness. My phone rang, a shrill, insistent sound. The screen lit up with a date. It was the day my college admission results were announced. I wasn' t dead. I was back.

My daughter Lily hadn't seen her father in five years, so her joyful cry of "Daddy!" echoed through the sterile mansion as she ran to him. But his eyes were not for her. Jessica Hayes, his "one true love," stood beside him, her feigned trip and cry sending him into a panic. He scooped her up, his face contorted with concern, then shot a venomous look at our innocent five-year-old. "Lock her in the master bedroom closet. Three days. No food." My blood ran cold. "Ryan, no! Please, you can't!" "She has asthma, Ryan. She'll suffocate!" He scoffed, accusing me of lies and manipulative ploys. The guards, impervious to my pleas, ripped Lily from my arms. "Mommy! Mommy, I'm sorry!" she shrieked, carried away. That night, her terrified cries faded to desperate whimpers. "Please, Mommy... can't... breathe..." I pounded on the door until my fists were raw, screaming for them to let her out. The whimpers stopped. The closet door opened. Lily lay there, blue, not moving, not breathing. Unconscious from lack of oxygen. The ambulance siren wailed as I sank to the waiting room floor. My phone buzzed. It was Instagram. Jessica Hayes, pouting in a hospital bed with a tiny scratch. Her caption: "Mr. Peterson is so generous! I only scraped my knee and he gave me two luxury apartments as compensation. I guess I'll forgive you now~" Geotagged from a luxury hospital across town. Where our daughter wasn't. He gifted her apartments for a scraped knee, while our child suffocated. A cold numbness spread through me. "Grandma," I whispered, bowing my head to Mrs. Peterson. "Love cannot be forced. Please... let him be with Jessica. I just want to take Lily and leave." My fresh wounds throbbed, tears mixing with blood. I showed her the post, the address of our marital home given away. Mrs. Peterson's face blazed with fury. "That scoundrel! That worthless boy!" "Call that bastard and tell him to get his ass to this hospital immediately!" But it was too late. If Grandma's scolding worked, Lily would never have been locked in that closet.

My life with Olivia Hayes was the dream I' d chased since I was a boy. We had it all: a sprawling house I designed, two beautiful children, Lily and Leo, and a brilliant wife. Then, on a Tuesday night during the worst blizzard in fifty years, our perfect world shattered when Olivia, in a fit of rage, locked our three-year-old twins outside in their thin pajamas. I begged, I pleaded, I offered myself in their place, but she only sneered, shoving me back as she dragged my screaming children into the snow, the lock clicking behind them. Trapped in the basement, I heard their cries fade, replaced by a terrifying silence. When the door finally opened in the morning, Olivia stood perfectly dressed, while my children lay huddled outside, two frozen, broken dolls. "She murdered them," ran through my head, but her mother, Mrs. Hayes, urged silence, whispering of shock and family reputation. Then Olivia' s cold, businesslike voice on the phone: "Did you talk to Ethan? Is he going to be reasonable? I have a board meeting in an hour… tell him the family will compensate him generously. He can name his price." And then, casually, asking about Marcus, her COO. The realization hit me: this wasn' t just about old family hatred; it was about him, and her calculating indifference. Days later, at our home, Marcus Green, her lover, stood in what used to be my children' s playroom, ordering workers to trash their toys as he gloated, "Olivia is pregnant, you know. My child, this time. A real heir.\" He called my children' s precious belongings "garbage," announcing their baby would be in Lily and Leo's room. My heart, a dead stone for days, exploded into white-hot rage, and I lunged. As I held a crumpled drawing of our once-perfect family, Olivia returned, unimpressed, dismissing their belongings as "just stuff" and their deaths as "an accident." "It' s bad luck to have things from the dead in the house when you' re expecting," she said, protecting her belly. As I was forcibly restrained, watching them empty my children' s lives into garbage bags, I knew then what I had to do. I signed the divorce papers, disconnected my number, and vanished, leaving her to face the desolate silence of a house where I would never return.

The last thing I remembered was the grinding sound of machinery, a symphony of six years in our small town, now a city death knell. My children, Lily and Tom, were so excited to visit their father Michael' s new, successful factory. "They've missed Michael so much, Ava. Let them go see him. He's just inside." Sarah, Michael's brother's widow, whispered, her arm around my shoulder, her voice a sweet poison. I watched them run ahead, their small figures disappearing through the massive doorway, believing their father was building a better life for us. They didn' t know the truth: Michael had left us for Sarah, taking our factory severance pay to build his new life with her and her children. Then I saw Sarah' s real smile-sharp, cold. She pushed an unsecured metal cart. A klaxon blared. Two screams, cut short by a sickening crunch, a spray of red. My world ended. Michael stood over me, his face filled with chilling annoyance, not grief. "Well, that's that, then," he said, flatly. "Saves me the trouble and expense of a divorce, I guess." He glanced at the machinery. "They were just baggage anyway, Ava. Holding me back." His words annihilated my soul, a physical force squeezing the breath from me. The world turned gray, then black. I died on that cold, greasy floor. And then, I gasped. I was in my cramped bedroom, sunlight filtering through the grimy window. A calendar on the wall marked the day the factory closed. Lily and Tom sat on the rug, whole and alive. "Mommy?" Lily asked, her big brown eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?" Tears streamed down my face. I clung to them, inhaling their scent. I was back. The memory of their deaths, of Michael's monstrous words, was burned into my mind. Grief remained, a hot knot of agony, but something cold, hard, and sharp solidified beside it. Revenge. Michael. Sarah. You will pay. I will tear down your world, piece by piece, and I will make you feel every ounce of the agony you gave me. This was not a second chance at happiness. It was a second chance at justice.

The cold steel of a knife slid between my ribs, and the last thing I remember was the shock on my best friend Wendy' s face – not that I was dying, but that she needed the perfect angle for her livestream. She narrated my demise, blaming me for trying to sleep with a trucker, her voice sickly excited as notifications pinged with hateful comments like "Serves her right" and "Stupid slut." I died on the dirty floor of a truck cabin, my blood pooling around me, smeared as a whore, utterly betrayed by the person I trusted most. My last breath was a gasp of disbelief, wondering how I could have been so blind to her jealousy and malice. Then, I gasped again, only this time the air was clean, not thick with diesel and blood, and I was back in my law firm's breakroom, staring at a saccharine-smiling Wendy, who was about to propose the very trip that led to my murder.

In the heart of the Appalachian mountains, Sarah lives a solitary life with her reclusive, moonshining father, Jedediah. His "special brew" draws rough men seeking an unnatural high, but also emits strange, unsettling sounds and a cloying, metallic scent that prickles Sarah's skin. Her mother, Martha, died years ago, a mystery Jedediah dismisses. Sarah's growing unease explodes into terror when she glimpses grotesque, pale "human forms" within her father's rickety still house. Her dread turns to horror after a stranger, Caleb, reveals a chilling truth: her mother wasn't just dead-she was the first "Source" for Jedediah's vile concoction. Jedediah, sensing her prying, drags Sarah into the reeking still house, forces her to touch a pulsing, disturbing "mash," and unveils a horrifying family "legacy," subtly threatening that she is destined to become a "Source" herself. Caleb, her supposed ally, then reveals his own sinister agenda: not to save, but to control the monstrous operation, leaving Sarah truly alone. This isn't tradition; it's a waking nightmare. Sarah is consumed by absolute horror and a sickening realization: her own mother was tortured for this brew, and now she is next. How could her father be such a monster, and why is she caught in this grotesque fate? Determined not to become the next victim, Sarah confronts her monstrous father, only to witness Caleb's brutal murder. But just as Jedediah moves in for the kill, a terrifying, primal force-long imprisoned, yet impossibly alive-begins to stir from the cellar's depths, ready to exact its terrifying, final reckoning.

After my tenth miscarriage in five years, I believed my body was broken. My husband, Barron, was my perfect, doting savior who had rebuilt my life after destroying my family's company. Then, I overheard him on the phone. He confessed to poisoning my tea every night, methodically murdering our ten children to repay a debt to his mistress. A life for each year she'd spent in prison for him. My entire world wasn't just a lie-it was a gilded cage built by my family's destroyer. He thought he left me to die in a fire. He was wrong. Now, with a new face, I'm back to burn his empire to the ground.

Laura was a bold, courageous, gorgeous, intelligent young lady who always stood out for herself. She always fought for her right and never allowed anyone to look down on her , her family nor her friends. She was known as the most brilliant and talented student in her class. This irritated some of her mates and led to the plot of her attack to tame her. " Hold her, let's see how her intelligence works this time...", Ben exclaimed, landing a huge slap on her cheek. Patrick and Fred held her tightly, chuckling and teasing. They molested and bullied her until she passed out. " Wait, Ben, I think we killed her....", Fred cried " Shut up, what do you know? She's just doing that to scare us...." " No, Ben...I think he's right...we killed her..." " Oh, my God...what should we do..." Join me on this journey while we find out what they did to her body and the outcome of their action. ENRAGED SOUL;The revenge of a traumatized girl

It started on the one-year anniversary of my return, a day meant for joy. Instead, my family, devout and God-fearing, brutally murdered me. My brother, my protector, became a "defiler" screaming monster, my father, a man of God, cut off my hand with a rusty saw, and my mother, once overjoyed, called me an "abomination." They threw my bleeding body into a silo, sealing the hatch, and as I died, I only had one question: Why? It was the locket. The small, carved wooden locket my sister, Esther, had given me moments before, a "welcome home" gift that instantly turned my loving family into rabid killers. Somehow, I woke up. It' s the same day, the same anniversary. Esther is coming up the stairs, the locket in her hand, about to give me the gift that will trigger their bloodlust again. This time, I refuse. But Esther is cunning, and soon, I'm dodging my family's crazed attacks, desperately trying to expose their dark beliefs to the authorities. They look at me like I' m simply a troubled girl with an overzealous family. Knowing the law won't stop their fanaticism, I have no choice but to use their own twisted faith against them, no matter the cost, to finally break free.