A Thousand Broken Pieces Book Novels & Stories

“I’m not going to hurt you.” “I don’t know that. You say you aren’t going to hurt me, but the way you act sometimes hurts me. One day you treat me like you want me. Then the next you’re telling people I don’t mean anything to you. That we are only friends. I can’t take that. Not from you. I’m already broken, Dmitry. But you the power to shatter me.” His eyebrows wrinkled together. “Dani. For days now, I have been trying to tell you how I feel.”

Even breathing became deadly, I wanted to lay there and painfully drift away but I couldn’t. The fire in me couldn’t be extinguished. The core of me kept fighting, fighting for me to not drown in the dark sea I was in. I finally sat up from where I had been lying for days. I pushed the blanket away. I sat there for what seemed like hours, trying and failing to collect the pieces once again and puzzle myself back together. Even if I did put back all the pieces, I would forever be broken, cracked at all angles that could shutter at any point.

I blurted. He laughed bitterly. “Why is that, right? Do whatever it takes, Hernandez. She ran after you so many times, it's time for you to break a sweat too.” “You're buying," he pointed to the glasses and left. I stood there drinking and remembering the night everything started to go wrong. The night I broke Sofia's heart for the first time and all the other times I did it again and again over the years. Yeah, maybe I really needed to make things right.

I turned my head, knowing the sight would only break my heart further. A tearing sound could be heard throughout the hallway, followed by the light thumps of my book as it hit the floor in pieces. I couldn't help but look down at the book, the book that I had carried around for years. It was torn into five pieces, random pages and bits of cover were scattered along the floor.

As I tried to move it, to watch the writing on it, the mug slipped from my hand accidentally and smashed to pieces on the ground. For a few moments, I could only stare between my mother's name on the chit and the broken glass shards; until I managed to grab a hold of myself and started cleaning up the mess. A realisation burning in the back of my mind, as I gathered the broken pieces. Sometimes, all that's left for us to do, is collect the broken pieces. Because like things; relationships once broken can never be completely put back together in the same way, no matter what. ———————-

It would be about belief. Who people trusted when things finally broke. Chapter Eighty Seven ended with that knowledge settling into me like a second spine. I had not sought this role. But I would not step away from it now. Not when the weight was finally revealing what it was meant to break.

Chapter 148 – The Broken Star’s Choice The broken star pulsed in the nexus’s starfield, its light a fractured mosaic of fading gold and encroaching shadow, each throb a heartbeat of anguish that threatened to unravel the tapestry of all creation. Jessica’s hollowness was a screaming void, her body bloodied and trembling, her glow extinguished as her future self loomed, radiant yet broken, her hollow eyes and chilling vow, “Your love will break you, Jessica.

Chapter 7 Cleo Nothing hurts more than a broken heart . A broken heart that has not healed properly is like a scar that hasn't healed properly . On the surface everything looks standard; however when you go deeper you are still blue and black from the blow that you sufferd at the hands of the one who swore love , protection, and stability. If dealt with sooner the scar can heal if not it can rott and cause major problems. Imagine baking a cake that flops. Proper healing happens from the inside out. When you nurse your broken heart too long thinking that you're okay you end up discovering that the damage is worse than initially thought and its somehow spread to your soul. So not only are you

Everything sucks! The world had stopped being beautiful without his green-eyed beauty. It was now dull and cold and cruel. It wasn't his first heartbreak but it hurt much worse than the first time. The inside of his chest felt hollow. In place of heart, a violent pain kept throbbing inside it. The burn of heartache was mercilessly tearing through his inside. He didn't want to feel this constant burning that she had left him with. It was a cruel torture. He didn't want to go on without her. The shadows were hunting him again. He felt the vicious claws slowly closing over him, dragging him back into its clutches. Only she could set him free. But she was gone. His angel was gone.

That night, I locked myself in their guest bathroom and scrubbed my face until it burned — not because it was dirty, but because I felt wrong inside my own skin. Now, kneeling on my bedroom floor, I picked up the broken pieces of the mug — small shards, glittering like little truths. The handle had snapped clean off. And I thought: That’s what they did to me. Not in one cruel blow. But in a thousand small ways. A glance. A correction. A sigh. Each one a tiny fracture, until I believed I was already shattered. They would look at me — broken, scattered — and say, “Look what you did. You can’t fix this.”