Chapter 1: The Curse in the Bracelet

Tyler Monroe—my boyfriend—just froze. For a split second, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Then his whole expression shifted. "My girlfriend’s alive and well—what are you even talking about?!" His voice cracked, and he sounded almost offended.

The color just drained from his face. He glared at the laptop like it had personally insulted him, muttering something I couldn’t catch. Then he jabbed the mouse hard, shutting down the livestream with a frustrated click. After a beat—like he remembered he was supposed to be the supportive boyfriend—he turned to me, voice softening. "That streamer’s just talking nonsense, Marissa. Don’t let it get to you, okay? People will say anything online."

I nodded, trying to look reassured, even though my heart was racing. He gave me a couple more half-hearted reassurances, but I could tell his mind was already elsewhere. He slid into his desk chair, headset on, fingers tapping at his glowing keyboard, and lost himself in his game again.

I waited until he was fully absorbed, then slipped on my headphones, pulled out my phone, and, with my pulse thudding in my ears, reopened the livestream. I hesitated—just a couple seconds—then tapped to request a connection with the streamer.

My palms were slick with sweat while I waited for her to accept. I tried to keep my breathing even. Come on, pick up already. I snuck a glance over my shoulder—Tyler was still glued to his game. The request went through, and my heart jumped. "Hey, can you tell me more about my birth chart?"

It’s not like I’m superstitious or anything, but over the past year, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s seriously off with me.

Sometimes it feels like my body’s a radio losing its signal—everything’s fuzzy, nothing comes through right. I can’t taste anything when I eat. My nose doesn’t pick up any scents. My heartbeat and breathing keep slowing down.

Now? My heart barely beats ten times a minute.

I figured I must have some terminal illness. I went to every major hospital, but the doctors just shrugged. They couldn’t find anything wrong.

Tyler said maybe it was stress from work and took me to see a psychiatrist. The doctor prescribed a bunch of sleep meds, but none of it really worked.

At least it didn’t mess with the rest of my life, so eventually, I just stopped caring.

But then, about a month ago, I started getting bruises. All kinds. And I had no idea why.

At first, I figured I was just being clumsy, bumping into things. But a few days ago, I saw a news report about a murder. The photos of the body sent a chill straight up my spine.

The bruises on my body... looked exactly like postmortem lividity—the kind you see on bodies in crime shows.

After I asked my question, the comment section blew up like a fireworks show.

[The streamer is obviously trolling, why does this chick actually buy it, lmao...]

[She gonna turn into a zombie or what? Someone call Unsolved Mysteries!]

[Wait, her skin really is pale af, no one else see this?]

[These wild IRL stories are my jam. Streamer, spill the tea! Scam or nah?]

The streamer’s name was Hailey Cross. She shot a look at the comments, totally unbothered by the chaos, and focused on me. "What’s your name?"

I clutched my sleeve, my fingers trembling. "Marissa Dalton."

Hailey scribbled down my name, checked my birth chart, then looked up—her face suddenly serious. "You should have died a year ago, and it was from dark magic—an unnatural death. Have you noticed anything weird happening to your body?"

I hurried to tell her everything—every weird symptom, every creepy detail.

The chat went absolutely nuts:

[Is this for real? A heartbeat of 10 per minute and still alive? Bro, come on.]

[If you’re gonna make stuff up, at least make it believable. Only a clown would fall for this!]

[But those bruises on her arm are hella weird... y’all see that?]

Hailey nodded at me. "The person who cursed you didn’t have enough power to kill you outright, so they used a luck-draining charm instead—slowly stealing your fate and fortune.

"That’s why your body’s slowly turning corpse-like. Outside, you look normal, but inside? You’re already one of the living dead.

"Bottom line: your luck’s been stolen, and you’re about to become a real corpse."

The livestream was blowing up, comments flying faster than I could read:

[This streamer is selling snake oil. Someone report this channel!]

[I know a little occult stuff, and the math she just did is kinda legit, not just cap.]

[Who’s stealing her luck? Bet it’s the boyfriend. Dude looks sus—bad vibes.]

[You guys really buy this? Don’t be so gullible!]

The chat was going wild, but Hailey just pressed on, unfazed. "Your fate was originally really good—a rare kind of luck. You’ve always had crazy good fortune, the kind you can’t explain away."

I nodded without even thinking.

When I was a kid, I was a total wild child. Once, I darted into the street, and a car almost hit me, but I stopped just in time—it missed me by inches.

During the SATs, I barely scraped by, but somehow got into my dream college. Every time I bought a scratch-off, I won. Free food from delivery apps, like, all the time. After saving for a few years, I bought a house back home, and the city built a highway right through it—I got a fat buyout.

Ever since I was little, everyone said I was a walking good luck charm. So all that was because I was protected by some kind of blessed fate?

Then why...?

Hailey saw the confusion on my face and said, "Your fate got messed with a year ago, and your luck started leaking away. You’re not as lucky as you used to be. On the flip side, whoever took your luck suddenly gets a winning streak—and suddenly, everything just falls into place for them. That’s why you were targeted.

"It’s gotta be someone close to you... How’s your boyfriend’s luck been this past year?"

She thinks it’s Tyler?

My stomach twisted with anger. "My boyfriend’s always been good to me. Don’t say stuff like that. This past year, when I was sick, he never complained—he took care of me. How could he be stealing my luck?"

When I first realized something was off, I spiraled into anxiety and even thought about breaking up with Tyler so I wouldn’t drag him down.

But Tyler wouldn’t hear of it. He went with me to doctor after doctor, and on those endless nights when I cried, he was always there.

When I broke down because I couldn’t taste anything, he stopped going out to eat and cooked at home, no seasoning at all.

He said whatever flavor I could taste, that’s what he’d eat too. That’s what sharing everything means, right?

He was so scared I’d do something drastic, he even quit a promising job just to take care of me.

He’s been so good to me—how could he ever hurt me?

Right after I finished, a comment popped up, dripping with sarcasm:

[Still simping, huh? Just wait till she gets burned.]

Hailey didn’t get offended by my pushback. She just stared straight at me through the screen and asked again, "Just answer me: have you and your boyfriend’s luck changed in the past year?"

I hesitated, thinking it over. "My luck really isn’t what it used to be, and lately it’s gotten super obvious. Tyler... after quitting his job, he started his own business. Did really well. Met an investor who backed him. His team grew, like, three times over. Honestly, his luck’s never been better."

The chat went wild:

[No way, luck stealing is real?]

[That’s so creepy! Maybe my coworker’s stealing my luck, too?]

[Can luck even be stolen? Y’all are eating this up? This is just a streamer and her friend putting on a show.]

I felt a little defensive. "But he earned that. Hard work, you know? That doesn’t mean he’s stealing my luck!"

Someone in the comments had my back:

[Yeah, don’t just go accusing people close to you.]

Hailey stayed calm, totally unbothered. "You can’t just steal luck out of nowhere—it needs something to channel it. Think back: did your boyfriend give you anything special a year ago?

"Something you always wear, something obvious. I can prove it."

I didn’t even have to think.

Last Valentine’s Day, Tyler gave me this rainbow multi-gemstone bracelet.

Each bead was a different color, lined up like a rainbow. It was gorgeous.

The string was woven from both our hair—his and mine—supposedly to symbolize forever.

He told me the bracelet had been blessed by a spiritual advisor, said it was good for me, and insisted I wear it every day.

One time, we were traveling and I realized, after we’d already gone downstairs, that I’d forgotten the bracelet. We were running late for our flight, and I said I’d just skip it for a few days, but Tyler insisted on running back upstairs to get it and put it on my wrist.

He said it was blessed by a saint, would keep me safe, and I shouldn’t ever go without it.

We missed our flight. I felt terrible, but Tyler didn’t care—he just comforted me, saying we could catch the next one and that the bracelet mattered more.

Hailey’s face tightened, her tone turning serious. "That bracelet had to have been cursed with dark magic to steal your luck. The hair from both of you is the conduit—it lets your luck flow straight to him. Where’s the bracelet now?"

I froze. "He says it needs to be cleansed every night, so he takes it away at bedtime and gives it back to me in the morning."