Anastasia Euthanasia

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In This Room…

Domestic / Psychological / Thriller / Plot Twist

Live. Laugh. LOSE!
Calvin and Addelyn Delacroix were lifelong sweethearts who married right after college. With an inherited wealth and the birth of their daughter, they were destined to live a life of means. After moving into a new home, Calvin slipped into a dark state of mind, and as his secrets began to unravel, he led those closest to him kicking and screaming into the deepest parts of his insanity. Now, he meets with an appraiser, Wayne Graves, to rummage through what’s left of the Delacroix’s property. As they revisit each room, Calvin is torn between memories of the wholesome life he shared with his family and the blood-stained ruins of a nightmare he put them through. In time, he discovers the past, no matter what he remembers, is not always what it seems to be.

In This Room is an Amazon Top-10 Bestseller and First-Place award winner for Best Psychological Thriller (BookFest Spring 2022 Awards)

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“Intense. Straight got me hooked at the beginning.”

“Definitely kept me at the edge of my seat!”

“This is one of the strangest, most intriguing novels I’ve read.”

“Bradley Carter has done it again!”

“This book. It’s going to play with you. Hard. And you are going to be so glad you make it to the other side of this terrific ride. The twist is superb, the storytelling is chilling, the talent Bradley Cater displays is outstanding.”

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Author’s stance

“If I had to choose a story of mine to become an episode of The Twilight Zone, this would be it.”

—Bradley Carter


What others don’t realize is that many of these people have shamelessly exchanged their souls for supremacy. Amongst them hides a well-known truth; the perfect life comes at a price. It comes with strings attached. It arrives packaged in darkness and shipped from the depths of hell. Material possessions made by demons with brand names in a fairytale where some live horribly ever after.

Love is not something to take for granted. Like wealth and fortune, either it’s given to you, or you spend a lifetime trying to obtain it. The only love I ever knew was Addelyn. My heart has always belonged to her, and luckily, for me, she feels the same. What we share is the very definition of true love—an overwhelming and unconditional passion, equal and boundless, between two people who are meant for each other, as though the universe, indeed, has plans for them. The only question is what kind of plans, good or bad, does the universe have in mind?

Tragedy doesn’t care how much money you have in your bank account. Misery pays no mind to your social status. Devastation thinks nothing of the clothes you wear or the car you drive. Tribulation doesn’t give a shit how perfect you think your life has become. It’s inevitable—bad things happen to everyone, and in the end, everyone dies with the same lifeless expression.

Hell is what you create. Most people think of fire and brimstone, devils and demons, sinners bound in chains, infinite torture, and endless suffering. Yet, not all hell exists beneath the Earth’s core. It’s not always found in a blackened abyss. It’s here on land, above the surface. Truth be told, purgatory is decorated how you see fit. It’s adorned with ceramic sculptures and figurines, complemented by indoor potted plants and vase flowers, fragranced with scented candles, plug-in air fresheners, and potpourri. It’s lit by energy-conserving lamps, furnished with throw rugs and window drapes, cushioned stools, beverage coasters, and magazine racks. It’s surrounded by green lawns and a picket fence. It has a street address and a mailbox. The devil can be found in a variety of sorts. Some people see it when they look in the mirror, style their hair, put on their makeup, shave their face, and dress themselves. Most fear, when they die, they may face eternal damnation; but for those who live, actual hell comes with the realization that you’re already there, trapped within the walls you built, imprisoned behind the doors you sealed shut, born for no reason other than to pay bills and mortgages, and punished by your own version of misery.

“It’s human nature. Do what you can to keep your heritage alive, and when someone sticks their grubby dick in your Kool-Aid, you cut off their head.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I pulled her body from the tub and gently laid her on the tile. “No, no, no, no, no.”
With folded hands, I pushed down on her chest, begging for her heart to beat again. I sealed my lips to hers with a desperate kiss, breathing life into her lungs. My efforts were useless. I heaved above her, covering my face, crying so hard, I was incapable of producing a plea to the heavens, to the universe, without breaking apart. “Please come back! I’m sorry! I don’t want you to go away!”
Some people can argue those who return from death do so because their spirit has a reason to fight for survival. However, knowing how I betrayed her, Addelyn’s spirit refused. I laid with her on the floor, holding her, rocking her, trying to keep her warm. Combing my fingers through her hair, I repeatedly whispered, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Over time, I started telling her stories, rehashing our childhood. I asked her if she remembered summer camp and how we broke away from capture the flag to share our first kiss. I asked if she remembered the song the counselors sang around the fire. Kissing her forehead, I wanted to know if she remembered when I asked her to be my girlfriend under the bleachers at the football game or recalled our dance at the prom and how we made love for the first time.
Sniffling and wiping my face, I asked her, “Remember? Remember how I promised you the Milky Way?”
Not once did she answer, and after a lengthy silence, I gave up, thinking she had forgotten.