บททั้งหมดของ LOOM OF THORNS : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

BECCA’S MOTHER’S POV I didn't have a car. I didn't have a lawyer. All I had was the crumpled notes I had earned from selling Pap and beancakes. I had stood at the gate of the Police headquarters for four hours, my wrapper tied tight around my waist as if I were ready for a fight, but the officers behind the counter didn't even look at me. "Please, Officer," I begged for the hundredth time, leaning over the high desk. "Rebecca. She is my daughter. They say she is here. Just let me see her face. Let me see that she is breathing." The officer, a man with a nameplate that said Inspector James, didn't look up from his sports newspaper. "Mama, go home. The girl is in 'Special Custody.' No visitors. Not even her shadow can see her today. Come back when you have a lawyer." "Lawyer with what money?" I screamed, my voice cracking. "She didn't kill anyone! She is a good girl! She has always been! You are holding a diamond in a coal room!" "Madam, if you shout again, I will lock you up for d

THIRD PERSON POVThe quiet atmosphere of the NUAT hostels had vanished, replaced by a cold, clinging terror. Outside Mary’s room, the hallway was a sea of blue and red flashing lights.Girls who had whispered "God forbid" at Mary days earlier were now huddled together, wailing and vomiting into the gutters. The scent of ozone and iron hung heavy in the air. When the police finally wheeled the gurney out, the black body bag looked horribly small."They killed her!" a girl screamed maniacally from a third-floor balcony, her voice breaking. "They killed her because she knows something!"The "dirty looks" from days earlier had turned into a unified, trembling rage. The students weren't just onlookers anymore; they were witnesses to a cold-blooded execution.Online, the theories were spreading like a virus.Theory 1: The culprit behind this is an Administrative official in the institution.Theory 2: Becca is being held at the General Police headquarters to be "disposed of" next.Theory 3:

BECCA’S POV The concrete was freezing, but in my head, I was running through a field of fire. I was back at the university gate, but everyone was holding funeral candles. I turned to run, but my feet were stuck in a thick, black sludge that smelled of filth and old blood. "You can't run from the Loom, Rebecca!" The voice boomed from the sky. I looked up and saw Ada, but she was twenty feet tall, her face a distorted mask of porcelain and thorns poking out of her skin. She was wielding a giant pair of silver scissors, the blades snapping shut with a sound like a guillotine. Snip. Snip. Snip. "Joshua doesn't want a saint," she hissed, her shadow stretching over me like a shroud. "He wants a wife. And you... you’re just a loose thread that should be taken care of." She lunged. The silver blades aimed for my throat. I tried to scream, but my mouth was sewn shut, no sound came out of it no matter how much I tried. I scrambled backward, my fingernails clawing at the dirt, until I hi

THIRD PERSON POV The morning light was gray and sickly, as if the sun was sad and reluctant to shine it rays. It was filtering gently through windows that hadn't been cleaned in ages. It was Sergeant Eric who found her. He had been humming a high-life tune, the keys jingling at his hip, until he swung open the door to Cell 4. The tune died in his throat. He first of all wiped his face with his palm, then he rubbed his eyes to affirm he wasn't sleeping. Becca was a crumpled heap against the far wall, her skin the color of ash. But it was the floor that stopped his heart—a dark, tacky pool of crimson had spread beneath her, soaking into the hem of her dress. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Okoro whispered reverently, his voice cracking. "What in God's name is this!?" He didn't wait to call an ambulance nor did he try dialling emergency codes. He scooped her up, her head lolling back like a broken doll's, and screamed for the duty officer. "The young girl is bleeding out! Get the va

THIRD PERSON POV The road was no longer radiating the day's heat, a cruel cold now hum against the woman’s cheek. For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of distant sirens and the indifferent rush of wind from cars that didn't stop. She looked like a discarded bundle of fabric, her wrapper—the one she had straightened so carefully before heading to the mansion—now a tangled heap of mess. One eye was half opened, fixed on a flickering streetlight. In its delirious blink, she didn't see the road. She saw her daughter as a toddler, chasing chickens in the yard. She saw the day the girl had first start topping her elementary classes. She saw the day her husband had died and she swore to see the girl to whatever heights. She saw the day the girl had come home with her school results, glowing with a future that was supposed to be bigger than this dust. A shadow fell over her. It wasn't a doctor or a policeman. It was a scavenger—a young man with hungry eyes and a tattered