Kiera_Obsidian07

"My life was red... until him" - Sloane Kingston

They took too much from me and left me for dead. They should have made sure I stayed that way.

I have trained too long and too hard to stop now. But I never saw him coming. And now, I can't let him go.

Christian Allister is the star that my dark, depraved soul craves. He keeps me from succumbing to the darkness.

Revenge is best served cold, and I am here to collect the debts owed to me.

The whole world is searching for a 'monster' on a killing spree, not a girl hopelessly falling for a man.

They will never see me coming until my nails are plunged into the hearts of every name on my list.

But will Christian ever believe me, the girl thought dead by the world, when he finds out my secret?

Author: Hello everyone! Let's dive deeper in the story and find out what will happen in this story of Sloane and Christian when Sloane will find out that Christian is former FBI agent and has to return to solve the murder cases. Murders attempted my her!

Trigger Warnings: This book contains violent scenes, mentions of sexual harassment, murders. Read on your own risk.

This book also contains mature scenes. Only 18+  allowed. I will mention the chapter names with [M].

Dedication:- This is for the ones who lost their voice. This is for the ones who wish they could be Sloane Kingston. This is for the ones who fight every single day to forget. You’re not alone.

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Humbly,

~Kiera

Sin: Return of Sloane Kingston

It's been four years, but the pain feels as raw as it did that night. The memories are like shards of glass, constantly cutting into me, reminding me of what I've lost. Therapy is supposed to help, they say. It's supposed to make it easier to cope, to understand, to move forward. But how can I move forward when the past is still so vivid, so present?

Dr. Greene is kind. She listens. She asks questions that make me think, make me dig deep into places I'd rather not go. Today, she asked me to describe a happy memory from before everything went dark. I told her about the Sunday pool parties. I told her about the way Mommy and Daddy would dance, and how I would sneak out of bed just to watch them, to be a part of their world, even for a little while. How it was fixed that we would have ice cream every night, even if only a little, just because they are my favorite. And how big brother would pinch my cheeks every time just because he finds it cute and I would stomp on his feet because of how annoying he was.

She said it's important to hold on to those memories, to not let the horror overshadow them. But it's so hard. The nightmares are always there, lurking, ready to pull me back into the darkness. I can still see his face, the man who took everything from me. I can still feel the blood pooling around my feet, warm and sticky, a constant reminder of my helplessness.

There's more to that night than just the murder of my family. The parts I can barely bring myself to think about, let alone write. The things they did to me after...I can't even find the words. It was a violation so deep, it feels like they tore my soul apart. Dr. Greene says it wasn't my fault, that I'm not to blame for what happened. But it's hard not to feel dirty, broken, used.

Dr. Greene suggested we try EMDR next week. She explained how it's supposed to help process traumatic memories. I'm willing to try anything at this point. Anything to make the nightmares stop. Anything to stop feeling so suffocated by the black fog.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to feel normal again. If I'll ever be able to remember Mommy and Daddy without the pain, without the horror. I want to believe that there's a way out of this darkness. I want to believe that I can find peace, even if it's just a little bit at a time.

But for now, I'll keep going to therapy. I'll keep talking to Dr. Greene. I'll keep trying to find my way through the fog. Because giving up isn't an option. Mommy, Daddy and Big Brother wouldn't want that. They'd want me to keep fighting, to find a way to live, even if it's without them.

So I'll keep writing, keep talking, keep trying. Maybe someday, the memories of the good times will outshine the bad. Maybe someday, the fog will lift, and I'll be able to breathe again.

Until then, I'll hold on to the thought of Sunday pool parties, bedtime stories and irritatingly adorable moments with my brother. I'll hold on to the love that still lingers, even in the midst of the pain.

Good night, Mommy, Daddy and Jay. I miss you. I'll keep trying. For you. For me.

Diary Entry- III