Who Is The Protagonist In 'The Scribbly Man'?

BOOK 2: The Gentleman Series *Can be read as a standalone* ~~~ I think I had a one night stand with the Beast my sister was supposed to marry, now I’m marrying him. Angelica Hearst’s beauty is the bane of her existence. All she is and all she knows are tied to her beauty that everyone covets, but deep down she wants better for herself. She longs for escape from the man who has sworn to make her life a living hell and because of that she made a list of things she wants to do for herself and she’s determined to get through them somehow, but how would she with the Beast lurking? An illegitimate child, abused and forced to marry a wicked, bruised and pensive Don in place of her sister. It’s the last thing she wants, but maybe it’s a chance at the freedom she desires. ~~~ TRIGGER WARNING!!! This book contains themes that are not suitable for all readers, including; death, graphic violence, scenes of intimacy, strong language, physical and verbal abuse, manipulation, substance abuse, family trauma, and mental health issues. Proceed with caution and read at your own risk. Enjoy. x

Three years after my fiancé fell off a cliff while on a sketching trip in the mountains, I walked straight into his solo art exhibition by accident. And there he was, the man I hadn’t been able to forget for a single day, gently adjusting the scarf around a young woman’s neck. Every wall around us was filled with portraits he once promised he would only ever paint for me. Yet now, every single one of them was of her. Beside me, Timothy Hansen, his closest friend, the one who had helped me handle the aftermath back then, grabbed my arm. “Lexie, don’t do anything rash. Ethan had his reasons. He was rescued by Jane after the fall. He hit his head and lost his memory. It wasn’t on purpose that he didn’t come back.” I gave a wry smile. “So he lost his memory. Did you lose yours, too? If Ethan was alive all this time, why didn’t you bring him back? You watched me spend the last three years drowning in pain, surviving on sleeping pills. Was that entertaining for you?” Timothy said nothing. He didn’t even dare to look at me. Meanwhile, the girl—Jane Green—shrank back, hiding behind Ethan like a frightened animal. Then, Ethan finally looked at me, his expression cold and distant. “Ms. William, I didn’t come back because I didn’t want to. Jane is the one I love. As for the past, since I don’t remember it, just think of it as something from a past life.”

What happens when your life is just a lie? What happens when you finally find out that none of what you believe to be real is real? What if you met someone who made you question everything? And what happens when your life is nothing but a fiction carved by Mr. Fiction himself? "The truth is rarely pure and never simple." — Oscar Wilde. Disclaimer: this story touches on depression, losing someone, and facing reality instead of taking the easy way out. ( ( ( part of TBNB Series, this is the story of Clarabelle Summers's writers ))

I fell in love with a cold, taciturn tattoo artist named Henry Kane. So I deliberately damaged my tattoo again and again, picking at the skin and reworking the design, just to see him a few more times. By the third visit for touch-ups, scrolling comments suddenly appeared before my eyes: “I’m dying of laughter. This desperate female lead literally destroyed her freshly tattooed skin just to see the male lead again, and she still didn’t dare confess her feelings.” “Henry Kane is actually the embodiment of an ancient ferocious beast who sat on mountains of gold and silver but refused to spend them, choosing instead to open a tattoo studio to experience mortal life.” “He looks icy and distant, but his possessiveness has long since maxed out.” “He was just afraid his violent nature would scare his woman away.” I looked at the man in front of me, who was lowering his head as he wiped down the tattoo machine, and he did indeed give off an unmistakable keep-your-distance aura. But the comments claimed that he wanted to possess me? “Um… Excuse me?” The man tilted his head slightly, and under the weight of his deep gaze, the confession lodged in my throat. My mind short-circuited, and I blurted out, “I… I wanted to tattoo it on my lower back this time.” In an instant, the comments exploded in joy. “Woohoo! We’re taking off!” “Lower back, you say? That’s a sensitive spot! Can this pure-hearted ferocious beast really hold back?” “Good grief, straight to the undressing scene! This cunning move by the female lead is operating on a whole other level!” The man’s hand gripping the tattoo machine jerked to a sudden stop, and the air seemed to freeze for a few seconds. Then he answered, his voice slightly hoarse and unreadable, “Alright.”

My wife's first love crashes his car into me at 75 miles per hour, throwing my body over 65 feet across the road. As I am moments away from drawing my last breath, I use the remainder of my energy to call my wife. Focused on helping him cover up his crimes, she brushes me off before hanging up. "I'm busy—stop bothering me," she spits. Little does she know, the man who was just killed… is me.

HER A mystery. So very complicated. An enigma. A puzzle with so many missing pieces. Add one of the above ingredients into my plate and call me intrigued. Enter him. He is all of them and more...much more. He claims to be a monster. He doesn't believe in redemption. He is too vague and too dark for me to read. But it's my job now. To help him, figure him out, to find all of his missing pieces, arrange them together and finally obtain the final picture. It's my job, to find his deepest darkest secret. It's my job, to unravel the beast he claims to be and finally see the man behind. HIM Lost. I've been lost for way too many years. I thought it was over. I wanted it to be over. I had nothing to live for anymore. I've killed, I've destroyed and obliterated. It was enough. My role in the story should've ended there. I was too big of a monster to be tamed. Too dangerous to be kept alive. Enter her. Too loud. Too obnoxious. Too naive. Innocent, so very innocent. So intent on aiding me, redeeming me. She is unaware, she is opening a door that was shut down with a broken lock. I am scared. Terrified even. She is too white against my inner darkness. Too pure to be tangled with the devil living within me. We don't mix. We should never mix. Instead of pulling me out of that room, she might just get herself stuck inside as well. She wants to unravel the beast and meet the man behind, but I am scared that if she succeeded, she'll find nothing behind.