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FIFTEEN

Author: J.O
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-04-29 23:25:33

SAMANTHA

I sat frozen at the table, my breath coming in shallow pulls. My legs wouldn’t stop trembling beneath my gown, and no matter how tightly I pressed my knees together, I couldn’t make them still.

What the hell just happened?

What in God’s name was that?

My skin still burned from his touch, like an invisible flame had been lit under my dress.

I could still feel him. The ghost of his fingers. The pressure. The slow tease. The way he owned me with nothing but a hand and silence.

I couldn’t look at anyone. Not one soul.

The room was still full of laughter and clinking glasses. And I sat there—shaken, silent, trying not to fall apart.

Then I felt it. Audrey’s eyes.

Her stare hit me like a cold slap, sharp and cutting. My breath caught in my throat. I looked up, almost afraid.

And she looked away.

Just like that—cool, collected, like she hadn’t been watching me crumble from her man’s touch. Like she hadn’t seen anything at all.

But she had.

God, she had.

I reached for my wine glass,
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  • WRECK ME QUIETLY   SIXTY EIGHT

    SAMANTHAMy palms were sweaty. My knees? Useless. I could barely breathe.“Good evening, ma,” I whispered, because my brain short-circuited and defaulted to panic-humor.Her brow arched just slightly. “Open the door.”Cold. Calm. Vanessa at her finest.I fumbled for my keys like a fool, fingers tripping over themselves. My heart was tap dancing in my chest, wild and uninvited.The key finally clicked. I stepped aside, avoiding her eyes.She walked in like she owned the place, which, to be fair, her son did.She didn’t smile, not really. But something in her face softened. Just a little.Vanessa sat on the couch like she had no intention of staying long.Back straight. Legs crossed. Hands folded in her lap.Then, without looking up, she said one word.“Why?”My heart stuttered.I didn’t pretend not to understand. I knew exactly what she meant.I took a shaky breath. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I blinked fast, trying to keep it together. Trying to be composed, respectful, wha

  • WRECK ME QUIETLY   SIXTY SEVEN

    SAMANTHA “I didn’t mean to fall for him, Mom,” I said, my voice cracking like a cheap glass. “I didn’t plan any of it.”My mom sat cross-legged on my old bed, wrapped in a soft blue robe, her hair pulled into a bun that had definitely seen better days.She didn’t look surprised. Just… still. Her eyes were wide but calm. The same look she gave me when I was fifteen and sobbed over my first heartbreak, certain I’d never recover.She didn’t interrupt. Didn’t ask questions.She just nodded.And that was all it took.The words tore out of me like they’d been waiting, crouched low and dangerous behind my ribcage. The affair. The guilt. The way Mason kissed me like I was oxygen and he hadn’t breathed in years. Audrey’s pregnancy. Macey’s silence.The way I couldn’t look at myself without flinching.I told her everything. Every ugly, tangled part of it.By the time I finished, I was on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, tears soaking through the sleeves of my hoodie. I felt small. Like a v

  • WRECK ME QUIETLY   SIXTY SIX

    MASONSweat dripped down my back, soaking the collar of my jersey. My gloves felt like bricks. I blinked the blur out of my eyes, but it wasn’t the sweat messing with me.It was her voice.“We’re too toxic, Mason. I can’t do this anymore.”I flinched before the puck even came near me, which is probably why I didn’t catch it. It clanked off my stick and skidded somewhere behind me.Coach’s whistle blew like a gunshot.“Come on, Carter!” He barked. “Focus!”I nodded automatically, pretending I was still here, on this ice, with this team, in this moment. But I wasn’t.My head was still stuck in last night. In that. In the way she’d looked at me like I’d already lost her.Because maybe I had.I tried to breathe through it. In. Out. Skated to reset.Next drill. Another pass.And another miss.“What the hell is going on with you?” Coach shouted from the sidelines. “That’s the third one!”I clenched my teeth and circled back in line, silent. Everyone was watching now. I felt it in the air, t

  • WRECK ME QUIETLY   AUTHOR'S NOTE

    We hit 1,000 views?! 😭🖤Excuse me while I scream into a pillow. A happy scream, obviously.A thousand views. A thousand hearts. A thousand moments where you chose my messy, chaotic, emotionally wrecking story over sleep, school, work, or sanity, and honestly? That’s love. That’s real love.When I started writing this, I thought maybe my roommate, my friends, and my sisters would be the only ones here. But y’all showed up. You stayed. You felt something. And that means everything to me.To every single person who’s read, shared, cried, yelled at my characters (they deserved it), or dropped an encouraging comment, thank you. You are the reason I keep writing. You are the reason this story has a pulse.This book is a mix of heartbreak, chaos, a bit of trauma, and a lot of love, and the fact that it’s found a space in your heart? I’m not crying; you are.We’re just getting started. More twists. More tension. More scenes that’ll make you scream, “I hate him but also… I love him??”To eve

  • WRECK ME QUIETLY   SIXTY FIVE

    SAMANTHAI didn’t mean to call him.My fingers just moved. Like they belonged to someone else. Like muscle memory had taken over.Like some deep, desperate part of me had crawled to the surface and dialed the only number I knew could still tether me to something that didn’t hurt.My chest was already shaking before I hit the green button. My thumb hovered, trembling, then pressed down.One ring.Two…“Princess?”My throat closed.“Daddy…” The word broke inside me. Like it had claws. My voice cracked, split wide open, and I felt it tear something loose inside. “I want to come home.”Silence.Not long.Just long enough for the ache to climb my spine and wrap around my ribs.Long enough for the tears to come again, violent and hot and wretched, even though I thought I was empty.But there it was.Grief. Shame. Loneliness. All of it collapsing on me.Then his voice came.Soft. Steady. Strong.Like it always had when I was five and convinced the shadows under my bed had teeth.“I’m going t

  • WRECK ME QUIETLY   SIXTY FOUR

    SAMANTHAI stared blankly at the ceiling.My pillow was soaked. My eyes burned. I hadn’t slept.I didn’t even feel tired anymore, just numb. Like everything inside me had been wrung out and left to dry.My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Again.I didn’t bother checking. But it buzzed one more time, persistent and annoying.I turned my head and squinted at the screen."Fashion Theory Test – 8:00 a.m."I groaned and flopped onto my side. “Perfect,” I muttered. “Just what I need.”I didn’t care.Let them fail me. Let the world burn. I was already drowning.Still, I dragged myself up and had my bath. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t know what else to do.I shuffled to the mirror. My reflection looked worse than I felt. Puffy eyes. Pale lips. Dull skin. My soul had given up hours ago, and apparently, my face followed.I didn’t try to fix it. What was the point?I grabbed a pair of old jeans from the floor. They were wrinkled and slightly damp, but I yanked them on anyway. Over

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