Abused And Broken Novels & Stories

“Swingers clubs were too middle class for my mother. Too respectable. She liked her orgies anonymous. Cheap. Dirty. I stopped counting how many people used her body. Men. Women. Didn’t matter. That’s how I learned about sharing. At first they took things from me… later I took things from them. Pain and pleasure, that was my mother’s inheritance.” Tears filled his eyes. For a moment I didn’t know what to say. My tongue felt thick and dry. Blackness had started nibbling at the edges of my vision because I still couldn’t get enough air. I wanted to tell him he wasn’t alone. That countless people wandered through the same darkness, shouted into the same emptiness, stood beside the same open wind

The enormity of my actions and the resulting grief cast a shadow over my soul, and I swore that I would never again allow myself to love or be loved. As I ran, the memories of my mother's gentle touch and my sister's infectious laughter faded into the distance, replaced by the overwhelming guilt and shame that would come to define my existence. At that moment, I became Jason the Broken, a man forever haunted by the tragic consequences of a single, devastating night.

Her tears soaking into his shoulder while he murmured soft reassurances against her hair. "I thought I was broken," she whispered when she could speak again. "Thought all these marks meant I was damaged beyond repair. That no one would want me once they saw how much I'd been hurt." "You're not broken." Carlos pulled back enough to look at her, his hands framing her face. "You're scarred. There's a difference. Broken means can't function. Scarred means survived something that tried to destroy you and kept going anyway. And that's not weakness. That's the strongest thing I've ever witnessed."

My body screamed, my voice cracked, my back arched so hard it felt like I’d break. But they didn’t let up. They wanted me broken, crying, trembling, ruined. And God help me, I gave it to them. I thought I had nothing left to give. My body was trembling, my throat raw, my skin marked everywhere their hands and mouths had claimed me. But the three of them weren’t satisfied. They wanted me shattered.

Wet for me…! “Then how can you---?” I cut her off by pressing my lips to hers. I didn’t want to talk – it seemed that nobody was listening to me anyway. Sure, this wasn’t a normal situation, but I wasn’t normal either. I was fucked up and broken. Everything I’d once believed in had turned on me and abused me. Left me as little more than a husk of a person – still a child in many ways. So no, I wasn’t normal!

Damian locked himself in his study, never leaving its confines. He had completely abandoned all resistance. Day after day, night after night, he drowned himself in liquor. The once-proud Alpha of the Blackrock pack had become a hollow shell, a drunk staggering through the ruins of his own life. His wolf had grown so weak it could only let out faint, desperate cries. Meanwhile, the Bloodfang pack's army had massed at the borders. War had erupted. The Blackrock pack, leaderless and disoriented, crumbled.

It was not her normal look of well fucked. She looked beaten, abused, and it made my stomach turn, the sick feeling increasing. I did that to her. I hurt her. It wasn’t someone from her past, but me, someone she trusted. There was more pain circulating through me than any one person should handle, and I just made it worse. I threw on some clothes before wrapping her up in a blanket. She couldn’t stay. I had to make it a clean break. Firm. It was the only way I could handle it and stick to it.

That was one of the reasons why I was dying without anyone to cry beside my grave, if my body was ever found. It'd been 2 years ever since my father divorced my mother and left me and my 1 month old sister in my mother's care. Obviously enough, it was hard for her to carry the expenses of me and my sister, Emily. She used to work in a small company but the amount of money she earned from her job wasn't enough. She went into a state of depression and started relying on drugs and alcohol.

“I called her last night just to ask for money.” Frank did not utter any words and just went fast in front of Demir then he quickly crumpled his shirt because of what he heard from him. “That’s the only time I needed her help and I am sorry if I called your wife.” Demir swallowed and felt the tightness of Frank’s fist on his shirt. “I have no choice and we both know that I am already broke! Last night someone rob me at the street and those man worked together to hit and break some parts of my body.” Demir told them what happened with his eyes pinned on Frank.

Ava’s POV “I took odd jobs. I was always on the street. My aunt was sick and couldn’t work. I did everything, all the jobs, when my parents died. And what did I get? The man whom I worked for asked me to sleep with him before I got paid. I refused, and before I knew it, he accused me of stealing one of the tools. I couldn’t defend myself. No one stood by me to defend me. They acted like I hadn’t been nice to them. And in the end, they fired me.”