Abused And Broken Novels & Stories

--- I remembered when I sing that song, I was totally broken. I felt so...numb, empty, shallow. And I wish my heart would be unbroken by now. Cause I am still BROKEN inside. Not in a romantic relationship, but I'm broken. Broken because of what people are doing with me. I said in that song, that they would never let me down cause I'm titanium. And I did that. Everyone who tried to messed up with me didn't succeed.

I think I am broken. -----------

He would have managed, of course, because she was a friend, but it would have been exhausting. “Okay, we’ve talked about my broken fingers now,” he said and took a quick swig from his beer. “What about your broken heart? Or did you break his?” She blinked at the unusual introduction but seemed okay with it. “No…” she slowly said while stirring around in her soup. “He broke mine.” She ate a spoonful, before she continued. ”It’s a bit complicated. Because actually–” Suddenly her voice failed her and she turned away, blinking frantically to chase away tears.

In his time as a True Crime writer, Byron had interviewed many people, many of them disturbed or troubled in some way. In these interviews, he would often run up against what he called The Breakdown, to the point where, due to the pressures of telling him their story a person would hit an unknown well of feelings and just… shut down, usually in a maelstrom of tears. They always recovered but it was at a point that Byron always hated, even dreaded.

However, the birth of my twin babies has mended my broken soul. The mere fact that I brought these two to the world, makes me feel that I have become invincible. I am one person that has always dared to be honest with herself. I know for a fact that I was a battered and broken soul. Nonetheless, motherhood has brought me a lot of healing that I never deemed possible.

"You are an amazing person whether you see it or not. You see everything you've been through as bad luck but I see it as struggles that you made it through and became stronger from. I'm not scared of your past, Tiffany." Tiffany exhaled through her noes. She held a worrisome and somewhat sad look on her face which made my chest ache because I knew she was finding it hard to believe and accept that someone was willing to love her despite the baggage she was carrying. "Maybe you're right," she finally said, looking at me with soft eyes. "But... I'm broken and messed up and have pieces of me all over the place. That's not something anybody should have to deal with, Noah."

The older they got, the more they followed her lead. And then came the night that broke me. My seventeenth birthday. A night I should have celebrated. A night I should have felt loved. Instead, I was alone in the storage room that served as my bedroom, exhausted from cooking and cleaning for a family that despised me. That was the night her guards came. The night she had them hold me down one by one and assaulted me. I won’t describe what happened. I don’t need to. Some things don’t need details to be understood. Some pain speaks for itself.

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

“No, because it’s not fair. Something inside of her is broken, and you’re making it worse. We all feel it. She needs help. Either her parents abused her or someone else, but there is something not right about her, -“ I walked away before I heard any more. They were both fighting about who would not have to date me? Sleep with me? But that wasn’t the worst part. They saw through me. Saw how weak I am and damaged. I am broken, and they see it. Maybe it’s all they see. A little mouse who needs help, and that’s the only reason they’re friends with me. I felt nauseous and ran to the bathroom, reaching the bowl just in time before everything I had just eaten came out.

Mickey asked, moving closer despite his earlier restraint. "Someone who's been broken by normal human problems. Someone who can barely get through a day without having panic attacks about cameras and cigarette burns." My voice grew smaller with each word. "What if I'm too damaged to be anyone's mate, especially someone as extraordinary as you?" Mickey was beside me in an instant, kneeling next to my chair so we were at eye level. "Lily, look at me," he said gently. "You are not broken. You are not damaged. You are a survivor who has endured months of systematic abuse and still managed to keep your essential kindness intact. That's not weakness—that's the strongest thing I've ever seen."