All too late novel

Chapter 8 

On the day of my execution, the sky was heavy with snow. Blindfolded and shackled with heavy iron chains, I felt each snowflake’s icy touch as they fell around me. Amid the silence, I faintly heard the distant sound of Elara playing the piano, a haunting melody that seemed to pierce through the cold. 

With a loud “thud,” I collapsed onto the snowy ground, the weight of the chains dragging me down. My soul felt as if it were being slowly pulled away, drifting aimlessly through the air. I waited in silence, resigned to the arrival of the Grim Reapers. But in the next moment, my spirit found itself hovering beside Soren. 

Inside the room, I watched through the screen 

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of a nearby TV. Soren stood there, staring in disbelief at the broadcast of Elara, frozen like a statue. His shock was palpable, his eyes wide and unseeing, until the sound of a knock on the door jolted him back to reality. 

I looked coldly at the two men who had sealed my fate, now caught in a brutal struggle. Orion’s strength seemed to outmatch Soren’s, and soon Soren was overpowered. The room was filled with the sounds of their fight–the thud of fists and the grunts of exertion. 

A bitter smile touched my lips as I thought, “Orion, you’re my brother, yet you condemned 

me to death for Elara. Now, you watch me die. If you had only left me in darkness, I could have faced my end alone. Why pull me out of it, only 

to cast me back into despair?” 

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My inner thoughts seemed to reach them, and 

soon, both men were overcome with emotion. 

Orion, his face twisted with rage, spoke with a chilling intensity. “Soren, she’s my sister. How dare you break her hand.” 

Soren, trembling and sitting on the floor, shot back, “Orion, who are you to judge me? What about yourself? Did you ever believe Aria? You’re still her brother. Don’t you know what kind of person she is?” 

The two of them continued to deflect blame 

onto each other, unable to fathom that Elara, whom they had believed to be kind–hearted, was the true mastermind behind my suffering. 

Reality hit them only when a prison guard 

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arrived to hand over my body and a USB flash drive. The drive contained a recording of Elara’s visit to me. Anticipating her gloating, I had 

secretly arranged for a caregiver to provide me with a recording device. 

As they listened to the recording on that stormy night, their rage and disbelief were palpable. Orion, kneeling before the playback, sobbed uncontrollably. His voice was choked with remorse and grief. “Aria, it’s all my fault. I didn’t know she could be so cruel. I deserve to die. I 

knew you were kind. How could you hurt others out of jealousy? I’m so sorry, Aria. I’m truly sorry.” 

Sitting beside him, I felt a deep sense of disgust. 

In the days that followed, Soren turned his 

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wrath toward Elara. He cut off all her resources and subjected her to a relentless cycle of torment. He used the baseball bat he once used 

on me to repeatedly break her hands. Each time her arms were about to shatter, he had a private doctor reattach them, only to start the cycle again. 

Breaking them. 

Reattaching them. 

Breaking them. 

Reattaching them. 

The cycle of cruelty continued, until Elara, unable to endure the torment, took a pocket 

knife and slit her wrists. Blood stained the room 

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as she lay there, her empty eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

As she closed her eyes for the last time, I wondered if she felt any regret for the suffering she had caused me. 

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