Her aunty sold her to a herbalist after her parents died (part 6)the end

At 12, Her Aunty Sold Her To A R!tualist After Her Parents Died, And Then The Unthinkable Happened_6️⃣(THE END )

(Written by Teachable Stories)

  After Chief Lucas and his adopted daughter Norah relocated abroad,

Delilah, Nora’s aunt and the woman who had once pretended to care while secretly plotting her own sister's déath, was being tørmented night after night. 

Every time she closed her eyes to sleep, the same terrîfying scene replayed:

Her late sister, Nora’s mother, dressed in glowing white, would appear at the foot of her bed. Her eyes full of sórrow, her voice hollow yet heavy:

“Delilah… Where is my daughter?”

Delilah would jolt out of sleep, panting, sweating, heart racing. The dreams were so real that sometimes she would run outside in féar.

 Her children thought she was losing her mind.

She went from one spiritualist to another, native doctors, even prophets, paying heavily, fasting for days, bathing in rivers, but nothing worked. The tørment grew wòrse.

Then, one night… something terríble happened.

Delilah had just laid down when the air in her room turned icy cold. She tried to rise, but her entire bódy locked. Her eyes remained wide open—frozen, helpless.

From the shadows, her sister stepped forward.

Not a dream. Reality.

She walked slowly and sat at the edge of the bed. Her voice was calm but thunderóus in Delilah’s ears.

“Tell them what you did to me… and my family.”

Delilah scréamed—this time, for real—and tumbled off the bed. She crawled toward the door, but it slammed shut. 

Her children heard the scream and rúshed in. What they found horrîfied them—Delilah, uncønscious, foam dripping from her mouth.

She was rúshed to the hospital.

For seven days, she lay in a coma. The doctors couldn’t explain it. Tests showed nothing. Machines said she was fine. But her soul… wasn’t.

On the seventh day, she woke up—shaken, weakened, but desperate. She called for her children and, with trémbling hands, begged:

“Take me to my father’s house… I want to confess.”

They drove her to their village the very next morning. 

There, surrounded by her entire family, Delilah collapsed to her knees and began to weep.

What she said stunned everyone.

“I kílled my younger sister… and her husband.”

Gasps. Tears. Silence.

Then Delilah continued, her voice broken by shàme.

I was the one who kílled my younger sister and her husband because I was jëalous of her success. 

She married a rich and responsible man, while I married a làzy man with an average life. I started secretly hàting her when I saw how much better she was doing than me.

Our family loved and respected her more. They always asked for her opinion before making any big decisions. 

I was jëalous of how well she cared for everyone in the family.

I kílled her husband first, thinking it would bring her down, but she still continued to do better than me in every way. 

My secret hàtred for her kept growing. I didn't plan to kíll her at first, but when she told me she wanted to buy an estate the next year, I couldn’t hold my énvy anymore. I plotted and kílled her.

Delilah later confessed, and the family cûrsed her for what she did.

Nora’s mum was the heart of the family. Every year without fail, she bought and shared lots of food and other items with every member of the family. 

At the end of each year, she held a family party where everyone came together to eat, dance, and celebrate.

But after Delilah kílled her out of jëalousy, all of that stopped.

When Delilah’s first son came back to town and found out what his mother had done to the aunt who had sponsored him in school until he graduated, he disowned her immediately. 

Her family threw her out of the house she inherited from her sister. 

They seized every property that once belonged to the sister she kílled.

 One by one, her children abàndoned her. Neighbors avoided her. She was labeled a curse.

From affluence, Delilah descended into beggary.

No one wanted to touch her, talk to her, or help her. 

She survived on food from waste bin. 

Her clothes were torn. Her voice echoed in the streets as she spoke to invisible shadows.

One day, Nora asked her adoptive father, Chief Lucas, why he joined an occult group.

He replied, “My dear, I was doing fine in life, but my late wife never gave me peace. She kept pressuring me to make more money and always compared me to her best friend’s sugar daddy, not knowing he was secretly involved in rîtuals.

No matter how much money I gave her, she complained. She said she needed a car, so I used all my savings to buy her one. But even then, she wasn’t satisfied—she said the car wasn’t good enough and compared it to the expensive one her friend got from the Rítualist.

One day, out of frústration, I went to that rítualist for advice. That’s when he introduced me to the occult group. When I joined, they demanded a sàcrifice. They told me to choose between my wife and my mother. I didn’t think twice—I chose my wife. My mother was innocent, but my wife’s attitude is what pushed me into that dark path. So I sàcrificed her immediately.”

Nora took a deep breath and said softly,

“Daddy… I may not fully understand everything you went through, but I thank God for pulling you out of that dàrkness. She must have made your life dîfficult, but I am grateful you are no longer a member of that evíl group.

What matters now is that you’ve changed, and God gave you another chance. I pray He continues to guide and protect you.”

    A few months later, Delilah ran into the market, nâked and wild-eyed—laughing, cryíng, shoutïng.

She had gone mâd.

Completely mâd.

The woman who once déstroyed light out of énvy was now consumed by her own dàrkness.

Meanwhile, across the seas, Nora and Chief Lucas flourished. He had become a humble, joyful man. Nora had opened a foundation in her mother’s name, helping orphans and widows. Their story became a beacon of hope.

Énvy déstroys more than it ever gains.

 What you do in secret will one day be shóuted on rooftops.

 No evíl deed goes unpûnished, repentance is the only way out.

Never fíght someone carrying divine purpose you will always lose.

God always protects His own, even in silence.

THE END......

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