A Diary Of Blood Novels & Stories

Ugh… I’m going to have to call her later and apologize… I rolled over and curled into a ball, my uninjured cheek burrowing into the pillow. I fixed my eyes on the window, catching glimpses of the bright pink flowers on the azalea bush outside. Again, the thought of what I had done, how I had reacted in that alley, crawled through my mind. I felt guilty for the blood on my hands, for the taking of a life; but I also felt guilty because I didn’t regret it. Deep down, I knew if I was in that situation again, I would do the same thing. Did that make me a monster? Speaking of…

The abductor watched him silently, then turned and walked back out leaving Lex to his thoughts. The silence after the door slammed shut was worse than the pain he was feeling. He pressed his head back against the cold wall, breathing in shallow gasps as the dagger remained embedded in his shoulder, a constant reminder of how thoroughly he'd miscalculated. The blood had stopped flowing freely but still oozed around the blade, warm and sticky against his skin. Every slight movement sent fresh waves of agony radiating through his arm.

Something else was inside the house. And it wanted them to come out. ⸻ The diary suddenly opened by itself. Its pages flipped rapidly. Finally stopping on a single page. Words appeared before their eyes. Fresh black ink spreading across the paper. ⸻ “The reflection is awake.” “Do not trust the faces you know.” “The real danger is not outside.” “The real danger was born in your blood.” ⸻ Ilyaan felt dizzy. A sharp pain exploded inside his head. Memories flashed before his eyes.

The door was heavier than it looked, warped on its hinges, and Mira shouldered through it without slowing, the smell hitting her before her eyes had fully adjusted to the dim interior — copper, motor oil, something acrid underneath both that she recognized from a hundred worse nights as fear sweat, the particular smell a room gets when everyone in it is trying not to show how frightened they are. Somewhere above her, a single fluorescent tube flickered and buzzed, casting the whole scene in a sickly, intermittent light.

But today, something had drawn him in, a need to connect with the person he had lost so tragically. As he rummaged through his brother's belongings, his fingers brushed against a leather-bound book hidden beneath a stack of papers. He hesitated for a moment before pulling it out, recognizing it as his brother’s diary. The worn cover and frayed edges showed signs of frequent use, a testament to the secrets and thoughts it held within. Damon’s heart clenched as he opened the diary, the pages filled with his brother’s handwriting staring back at him. It felt like he was about to intrude on something deeply personal, but his need to understand, to know what his brother had been going through, ov

My throat burned. I grabbed a half-filled bottle of water I had left on my desk and gulped it down at once. The feeling came again, rumbling down in my stomach. I couldn’t tell if this was pregnancy-induced or the pool of blood that kept flashing back to my mind. I got to the bathroom before I let it out. The sink was covered in my puke. I ran water over my face. I dragged in air slowly as I walked back to the office. A diary caught my eye as I packed every file and document back into the drawers. Pink colored thick-covered diary. This must have belonged to Victoria.

The water aided my blood flow through its normal route relieving the throbbing pain between my legs. I repeated my question to her without breaking a sweat. Incredibly large breasts or not, I was going to focus on doing my job. "Well, she had this diary. It was a ghastly thing." "A diary." I scribbled down on my notepad. "Anything else?" I couldn't see how a stripper's diary was going to help me solve a murder investigation. "No. Just the diary. I can remember it now because it had her initials written on the front cover."

Stella–POV I tossed and turned; sleep eluded me. Frustrated, I sat up and made my way to retrieve the diary, hoping to find a way to unlock its secrets. I carefully pulled out the journal and, once again, attempted to open it using a hammer on the small lock. To my dismay, it remained stubbornly shut. Exhausted and defeated, I sank back, only to feel a hot trickle of blood from my nose— a telltale sign of stress. Scrambling to find a tissue box, I heard an unexpected click, and to my surprise, the lock popped open, triggered by a drop of blood.

Grace's words kept ringing in my head. ‘He doesn't care about you or your silly emotions. He'll fuck you like an animal. He will fuck you bloody.’ I was Dimitri's whore, till the end of days, trapped in this golden cage. A tear ran down my cheek. I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to quench the panic. The doorknob twisted and Dimitri came in covered in blood. Human blood. A loud gasp wrenched out of my throat before I could stop myself, I drew backwards, My eyes wide and panicky

Watching the road below the way she watched everything, with the particular patience of someone who had learned a long time ago that threats rarely announced themselves. Caelith sat on the edge of the bed and talked. She started from the beginning. The dreams. The feeling on the street that first Wednesday. The black car and the chemical cloth and the ritual room with the candles that didn't flicker. The stranger who appeared and disappeared and submitted her essay and left her on a bench on a road nobody used. Zara, the courtyard, the blood deal. The journal. The friend she called at midnight who knew things she shouldn't have known from footnotes.