My Pretty Sweetheart (Arianna)

"What do I mean? What I mean is, that b*stard of a child in your belly deserved it. No one wanted it, and it was a waste of space from the start. If you don't believe me, get the rest of your medicine investigated Do you think that Hendrix is protecting you now because he cares about you? He feels guilty, and his conscience is weighing on him." Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Seeing my ashen face, her laugh had only grown more hysteric. "Arianna, you deserved it, and so did that child. He should have died, and he shouldn't have come to this world."

She had successfully opened the lid to the bad feelings and the maelstrom of negative emotions that I had suppressed in my heart.

I raised my hand, but she stopped me. She sneered, "What? Still trying to hit me? Do you think I'm stupid enough to let you hit me a second time?"

With a contemptuous smirk on my face, a layer of gloominess and strangeness in my eyes, I drilled my gaze into her. Then I said, sotto voce, "No, I didn't mean to hit you. Hitting you would be too kind of an act. Honestly, for someone like you, hitting you with my hand would be letting you off too easy."

As I said that, I approached her step by step. Looking at the fruit knife not far away, I sneered at her. "At first, I thought that a person like you would at most be a small thorn in my side, but now it seems that you're not just a pain in the a*s, but you also disgust me to no end. Since that's the case, you can go to hell!"

I didn't give her a chance to refute. As soon as I said that, I swiftly snatched the fruit knife over and stabbed at her without hesitation.

Andrea, nor was it from

stunned, and in my daze, the knife had

invaded my hand. A sound of something drip-drip-dripping hit the ground. It

widened her eyes and looked at me with disbelief. She

Andrea who

in advance. My urge to kill rose for no reason while Hendrix had

from Andrea's lower body had slowly pooled into a glaring red puddle, with the knife still stuck

held her in his arms, his expression forbidding. He looked at Minnie, who had been scared into a frenzy,

scattered. No trace of any horrible feeling sank in; I only felt that Andrea must die. As long as

and shot a gloomy and cold gaze at me. His thin lips were tightly pursed, and

and it was as cold as the

to. As he looked at me,

icy mist, frigid to the extreme. He frowned and seemed to be angry,