10 Things I Hate About Me Book Novels & Stories

And I got a strong whiff of alcohol from him. "I don't want to see your pathetic tears. You know, I despise you more than your sister. You and your whole family are the most horrible people I have ever come across. Just wait until it's time for revenge… Until then, I will be torturing you little nerdy. And no one will help you or let you escape from this, even death…!!"

Because talking was what the chair and the three in the morning and the small person in my arms required and I was learning to give what the moment required without deliberating too long about whether it was the right thing. It was always the right thing. "I know you cannot hear or understand anything yet," I said. Quietly. The specific low voice I had found somewhere in the first days that existed for her specifically and for no other context. "The books say you cannot. I have read four of them." Hope made a small sound. "But I want you to know something," I said. "You have already changed everything about how I understand what matters. You have been here eleven days. Eleven days and the en

Present Valarie's eyes blazed with defiance as Dominic's lips crushed hers, his kiss rough and unyielding. She struggled against his grip, her body writhing in a desperate bid for freedom. The more she fought, the tighter Dominic's hold became, his fingers digging deep into her skin. But Valarie didn't care. She was beyond fear, beyond the reach of Dominic's manipulation. She hated him, hated the way he made her feel, hated the memories they'd shared. Most of all, she hated herself for ever loving him, for being so blind to his true nature.

(Flashback Ends) * * * [IVAN] She hates me. But that shouldn’t have been surprising. Especially when I know what kind of horrible monster I have been to her in the past, how much I have hurt her just by being who I am. If there were ever a book on how to be a jerk to the woman you love, it would have been inspired by me. You know what, who am I kidding? I would have probably been the one to write the damn thing. I had everything I always wanted, everything a man could ask for.

Another loud thump. “I hate Sabrina for telling me to grow up,” Irena said with a renewed strength as she let the bat fall against the dried straw. “I hate Cathy constantly belittling me,” Sandra shouted, and the inflatable object hit the hay with a soft smack. “I hate being pregnant and getting fat,” Irena growled. Whack. “I hate being stuck in England when I wanted to go to Africa.” Thud. “I hate Peter taking control of everything.” Smack. “I hate therapy.” Flop. “I hate everyone telling me to plan my wedding.” Bam.

I shook my head. I was too depressed to eat. I turned around, and went to my room. “I am going to end up on the streets for sure, no thanks to that handsome, emerald-eyed jerk, called Phillip Dale!” I thought bitterly. I longed to hate him. I will not let myself down to loving such a disrespectful jerk, but I couldn’t hate him as much as I wanted. Why? Is it because everyone is talking about him? Or because he is too good-looking to be hated? But that's what he deserves.

I pulled it from my bag, sat on the edge of my bed, and opened to the first page. Write ten things you like about your spouse. I almost laughed. An hour later... My pen finally stopped moving. I looked down at the page. My fingers had cramped around the pen hours ago, but I never stopped writing Ten things. No. More than ten. I stared at the words I'd written. Then something inside me quietly broke. Because somewhere between the first sentence... ...and the last... I'd realized something terrifying. I didn't hate August…

Welcome to Hacked Hearts. Excusem the spelling or grammar mistakes, because I am only human. I hope you love this story and enjoy reading it. Don't be a silent reader, I'd love to know your views. Okay, then see on the otherside ;) Chapter 1: I don't do drugs, so I can have a bad habit. "I hate Tuesdays!" I groaned, rolling over to the other side of the bed, snuggling into my Panda blanket.

So, I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow, and screamed. I hate this life. I hate Ryder. I hate Hunter. Most of all, I hate myself.

Then, finally, she handed it back. Things I love: the smell of old books, the way rain sounds against windows, pasta(I mean who doesn't?) when you run your fingers through my hair without thinking about it. Things I hate: feeling like a burden, feeling like a third party in any relationship, when you shut me out, the idea of you not being in my life. My chest tightened. “Lena—” “It’s okay,” she said softly, cutting me off. “We don’t have to figure everything out tonight.”