Blinding lights. The flash of cameras. Dozens of fans cheering endlessly.
This is the life Morgan Slate knows of. That all holds true until she's betrayed and sold out by the one she loved most and... dies.
When she opens her eyes the next day, she...
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If there was any particular reason for me to divorce Callum, this would be it. There's a bruise on my arm from where I was manhandled just two hours ago. Goosebumps cover my skin as I was soaked from the rain while big, burly men grabbed me, carried me to the front gates, and pushed me into the carriage that waited there.
No time was given to me to pack my things, nor grab even a coat. Two hours ago, the door of my room was violently pushed open and multiple guards entered. When I refused to go with them as they had demanded, they became forceful in their actions. I was grabbed and tousled violently.
How they're okay with treating the express like this, I have no idea. One thing I do know is that something is all very wrong with this whole situation. I've come to the decision that once his child is born and I return to Torbum, I will be divorcing this man and fleeing from this kingdom.
Looking outside the window of the carriage, I clench my hands into a fist. We're on a particularly winding road. I must have PTSD as I can only think about my death in my past life. Maybe in this situation, my fear is a bit more welcomed as this mountain road doesn't have any guardrails to protect us from falling over.
Since this is a carriage, I'm unable to ask the coachman how much longer until we reach the port of Saint Fram - the small city that borders the ocean where I'll soon be traveling. As far as I know, it takes a week to reach there, so I'm sure we'll soon be stopping at a town in between for rest.
The trail becomes bumpier and I clutch the uncomfortable wooden seat as my body bounces. Each shake breath I take is occupied with a bodily tremble. The carriage swishes from side to side and the horse neighs. It begins to rain again, heavily at that.
I muster up the courage to look outside once again. But that's a mistake as the wheel of the carriage hits a bump - maybe a rock or a pothole. The horse-drawn vehicle loses balance and we topple to the side. Over the rain and over the cries of the horse, I can hear the coachman shouting, but the fear is too much to tell what he's saying. I get images of my past from when my car vaulted over the side of a mountain. That's all I can think about.
The impact doesn't come like I expected.
It makes me wonder if God has called upon me again. When I pry one eye open, I'm still inside the carriage and still holding onto the seat for dear life. I think I'm hyperventilating. Unfortunately each breath I take leaves me feeling more lightheaded, like my lungs have decided to stop working since I'm once again on the brink of death.
And worse, there's a pain in my stomach and something wet under me that's no longer my soaked body from the rain.
The door of the carriage flies off, the hinges breaking and the door falling many kilometers down. Braving a look down, I see that she hadn't fallen off the side. In fact, we had made it out off that treacherous path and to more leveled ground. What I see now is that the ground has cracked open, creating a huge void where I see nothing but darkness.
