Novels by Mo Writes

I tried every door. Locked. Another one. Locked. Another— This one gave a little. I pushed harder. It creaked open on its own. The darkness inside wasn’t just dark — it felt alive. I hesitated at the threshold, listening. Nothing but the rain and my pulse thudding in my ears. Then a sound — faint, metallic — clink, clink, clink. Chains. My breath caught. I stepped in, just a little, squinting through the dim. The door slammed shut behind me. I screamed, spinning around, clawing at the handle — but it wouldn’t move. My heart went wild. I turned back, pressing against the door, eyes straining to see through the black. There was a sound — low, broken. A groan. And when my eyes finally adjusted, I saw him. A man. Hanging from the ceiling. Bound by his wrists, body trembling, stripped down to nothing but shredded fabric around his waist. His skin was a canvas of blood and bruises, his face unrecognizable beneath it all. A gag pressed between his lips. He was alive. Barely.

There was a knock on the door. I grunted but drag myself off the bed and open the door. It’s the same old woman from before, the quiet one with the calm, empty eyes. She flashes her eyes quickly on me but brushed them away as though scared of me“Mr. Damien requests your presence downstairs for breakfast.” I hesitate, looking at her connfused. but she just stands there, still as stone. So I nod and shut the door, my pulse tapping against my throat. What the fuck does that asshole wants from me? The mirror catches my reflection as I change into a clean shirt and jeans. I look… tired. I placed my hand on my breast and the memory of when Damien fell on me and I could feel his hardness flash in my head . “Fuck!” I shook my head and shrugged off the thought. When I finally step into the hallway, I almost forget how big this house is. The staircase curves like something out of a movie, the walls lined with portraits of people who look too powerful to smile. The dining room is wors

I’d stopped counting the hours. My head was pounding. My throat was dry. I wanted out and I wanted air. I sat up, pushing the blanket off. “This is insane,” I muttered to no one. “Completely insane.” The flashback of the store owner lying lifeless in the pool of his own blood with a beast beside him scared me. I had me wondering if Damien was the beast. I quickly pushed that thought away, I just didn’t want to think about it, at least not yet. I went to the door again, turned the knob—locked, of course. I hit it once, hard. “Let me out!” My voice cracked but there was no response asides my echo. By the time the door finally opened, I was pacing. He walked in like he owned the world. It was Damien and he stepped in Calm, composed, in that dark shirt that made him look carved out of shadow. His eyes flicked over me like a radiant star. I folded my arms. “Can you just let me go? Why are you keeping me here?!” I snapped. “What kinda kidnapper are you?! You haven’t even said what

“Mom please don’t go. Please don’t leave me” I cried and ran behind my Mom as she was being dragged away by some Men I couldn’t see thier faces but looked beastly. “It’s about time Claire, very soon, very very soon” she whimpered and gave me a teary smile while I fell to the floor weeping and stretching my hands towards. Instanly I was jolted by low rumble of thunder. It was then I realized I was just having a nightmare. I sat on the bed with my heart heaving eratically. I thought about what my Mom said but I couldn’t even wrap my hands round the possible meaning of what she said. For a moment, I can’t tell if the sound is outside or inside my head. Rain taps softly against glass, steady and rhythmic — like a pulse. My pulse. Then I remember. This isn’t my room. I remembered where I was and again fear and anger gripped me. As I sat more properly on the bed, I notice my clothes. I’m no longer in the tattered uniform from the night before. I’m wearing a clean white shirt —

Claire “Ugh fuck!” I groaned as I flashed my eyes open. The first thing I felt was cold air. Then pain. A dull, heavy throb at the back of my head as I stretched my right hand towards it. When I opened my eyes fully, I didn’t see the hospital. I didn’t see anything familiar. All I saw was a white sheet, gold curtains and a chandelier dangling right above me. Everything looked… expensive. Too expensive and I only saw places like this in the movies. “What the hell?” I whispered. I sat up slowly, my body weak, dizzy. My hand went straight to my neck — no bite, no blood. Just a small bruise near my shoulder. I looked around again. The room was huge. The bed alone could fit five people. The walls were covered in framed art and warm lights that hummed quietly. It didn’t feel like a hospital. It felt like a movie. “Where am I?” I hissed. My voice sounded small, swallowed by silence. I stood, wobbling a bit, and walked to the door. I jacked and shook on it but it didn’t open. I tur

Claire “Claire, you’re still here?” Ada asked from behind the counter, half-smiling like she already knew the answer. I looked up from the patient chart in my hand. “Yeah. Night shift again.”I heard a sigh. “You never rest, do you?” she said. I gave a small laugh. “Bills don’t rest either do they?” “Oh well” She chuckled and shook her head. “At least eat something before you pass out.” “I will,” I said, stretching my arms. “There’s a small store across the street. I’ll grab something quick.” The clock said 11:57 p.m. My stomach growled like it was protesting the time and at that point I was sure it was loud enough to serve as an alarm clock to a deep sleeper. I slipped on my sweater, signed out at the desk, and stepped outside. The night air was cold and smelled like wet dust. The street was quiet — one of those nights where everything feels half-asleep. The small store ahead had its light still on, buzzing faintly like it was tired too. I walked faster. The sound of my sh