A Thousand Broken Pieces Book Novels & Stories

Nor did it register when I threw up everything in my stomach. And I kept throwing up till I was dry heaving. Till there was nothing left in my stomach but guilt and misery. Till I felt like my kidney was in my throat. Till he grabbed my face in his large palm and asked me to stop throwing up. But still, I didn't, I couldn't. I wanted the taste of her gone from my mouth and I kept going until I knew I was broken. And if Ares's goal was to break me? He had succeeded. Because I was finally broken into a million pieces. Pieces that even he, wouldn't be able to piece back together.

Kayla’s POV The shattered pieces of porcelain glistened on the floor like fragments of my broken life. White shards scattered across the tile like frozen tears, sharp enough to cut, delicate enough to crumble at a touch. My hands shook violently as I clutched the phone, my chest tightening until it hurt to breathe. You can run, but you can’t hide. Liam will know the truth soon enough. The words burned into my vision. Truth. That one word echoed louder than the rest, stabbing at the secret I carried like a knife twisting deeper.

It still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t done. I wasn’t nearly done. I started grabbing everything I could reach—my perfume tray, the vase from Santorini, my designer candle holders, the antique books I kept by the window seat. One by one, I sent them flying. The sharp cracks of broken things were the only thing holding me together. If I didn’t break them, I would break myself. I was already breaking. I was already broken. And then I saw it—half-buried beneath the scattered pillows, tipped over on its side. The old frame. I didn’t remember keeping it. I didn’t even remember placing it there. But it found me anyway.

Until he engulfed me into the biggest, longest, best hug. It was almost like he fixed all my broken pieces.

The stinging pain made Claire open her eyes. When she moved her left hand, she winced as the pain intensified. She looked at the back of her hand to see what had happened, and her eyes widened in shock. Her knuckles were torn, and fresh blood was oozing out. She quickly stood up from the hard wooden floor to grab the first-aid kit. “How did my hand get hurt like this?” she muttered as she cleaned the wound with alcohol. The intense stinging brought tears to her eyes. Unable to bear the sight of the small tear in her skin, she looked away. But what she saw was the mirror hanging next to her wardrobe, shattered into pieces, with shards still embedded in the frame.

The ones that make her fear belonging. I want to take them from her. I want to tear them out of her memory, out of her bones, out of her dreams. But I can’t. All I can do is sit here. And stay awake. Hours pass. The lamp flickers. Oakley shifts in his sleep. The moon moves across the sky. But I don’t move. Not until the first hint of dawn creeps through the curtains, painting the room in pale gold. Kieara stirs, just slightly. Her fingers twitch. Her brow furrows. Her breathing changes.

She grasped her chest, as if she could actually keep the fragments of her shattering heart intact. Laughter resounded around her, harsh and derisive. For the first time ever, she genuinely grasped the meaning of being powerless.

I didn't ask for anything that wasn't rightfully mine, but I made damn sure to get everything that was. I glanced at Zachary beside me, he looked completely broken. Anxious. Defeated. Nothing like the confident man I'd married. "Ella, is this really it for us? No second chances?" "That's right. We're done." I studied his face, remembering how nervous he'd been when he first asked me out all those years ago. But I wasn't that starry-eyed girl anymore. A cracked mirror can never reflect a perfect image again. Zachary and I—our story had reached its final page.

The room was dense with Cecilia’s silence, A silence that felt unsettling, resembling the tranquility before a fierce storm. The moonlight streaming through the window lit up her tear-stained face, creating shadows that appeared to reflect the chaos within her heart. The pain in her chest came not only from the physical solitude. It stemmed from the rejection that penetrated more profoundly than any scratch or bite could. Her family abandoned her when she required their support the most.

' 'That heartless woman! She had used this method to take revenge on me. On top of the divorce agreement was a folded medical report. My hands trembled violently with rage, barely able to hold the thin sheet of paper. It was a miscarriage report. "No... It can’t be..." I muttered to myself, feeling the world spin around me. I tried to reach out to Jessica telepathically, but it was as if an invisible wall kept us apart. It was impenetrable. Jessica had completely severed our connection.