When the Rain Stopped Falling
716 Views · Ongoing · Agatha Christie
I died in New York on a cold November night, a piece of guardrail through my chest.
Choking on blood, I dialed my ex-fiancé Damien's number.
In the background, jazz played at the Waldorf Astoria. People cheered for Aria—the girl my parents raised in my place.
"Thea, are you SERIOUS right now?" Damien's voice dripped with disgust. "Faking your own death to ruin Aria's engagement? Jesus, Thea. Even for you, that's low."
My mother Diana grabbed the phone. Her voice was ice. "If you don't show up tonight, don't ever come back to the Sinclair house. Better yet—don't bother."
Then she hung up.
They didn't know this time I was really dying.
Choking on blood, I dialed my ex-fiancé Damien's number.
In the background, jazz played at the Waldorf Astoria. People cheered for Aria—the girl my parents raised in my place.
"Thea, are you SERIOUS right now?" Damien's voice dripped with disgust. "Faking your own death to ruin Aria's engagement? Jesus, Thea. Even for you, that's low."
My mother Diana grabbed the phone. Her voice was ice. "If you don't show up tonight, don't ever come back to the Sinclair house. Better yet—don't bother."
Then she hung up.
They didn't know this time I was really dying.















































