Novel & Cerita Abused And Broken

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.”

I had become a broken vessel, shattered and discarded, just like the windows of my soul. As I stood there, swaying on unsteady feet, I couldn't help but feel like a mere pile of mud, trampled on by the world around me. My spirit was fractured, my hope shattered. But deep down, buried beneath the layers of pain, a flicker of defiance remained. A small voice whispered, "Maybe, just maybe, there's a way to piece myself back together."

So comforting that she drifted gratefully to sleep, part of her wishing she would never wake up. After you've been systematically abused, your judgment erodes to the point where it's nearly impossible to make decisions. Small decisions are as tough as big ones. Even choosing a breakfast cereal seems filled with peril. You are so scared about doing the wrong thing, being blamed and punished for it, you'd rather have someone else take the responsibility.

“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.”

I cannot afford another injury now when my escape is so close. Abby huffs out and nods, and I watch them both leave without giving me a backward glance. Sitting up, I cradle my broken arm and fight back the tears threatening to cloud my vision. There’s only so much I can take…the Hallowed Bond ball has to be life-changing for me, or I will forever be stuck in this cycle of abuse.

In that moment, she felt isolated, betrayed, and trapped in a cycle of violence. Despite the excruciating pain, Sia summoned every ounce of strength within her. She refused to let the brutality define her. Deep within her, a glimmer of resilience ignited. Through the tears and bruises, she clung to the hope that one day she would break free from this vicious cycle of abuse.

His eyes turn into dark maroon ones, the usual color of a Broken. "And look, one female who looks like she doesn't give two flying shits about us." Who the pickle pie said I didn't care about your presence! You scare the living out of me! "Shut up little shitheads" Axel growls. I glared at Axel, minding him not to go any further. This will be reported to Broken Dean- as he liked to be called. Once you mess with one Broken, you'll have to mess with the whole Broken community. They'd torture you. Salvage you without water and food. Kill you limb by limb.