Novel & Cerita Abused And Broken

then the barman ended everything by calling security on him. "hey... I..." "don't sweat it. keep the change." I interrupted him, dropping his money on the counter and left. ***** "Why!... I hate you." That was all I could yell throwing anything my hand could reach and breaking whatever was breakable close to me. I have never in my life felt such public humiliation, never felt rejection, never felt so broken before. I had no one to turn to or confide in. For weeks I drowned myself in alcohol, drugs and anything I wouldn't originally buy with my money. That was where I found consolence. I wouldn't pick any incoming calls, nor let anyone in on my life.

He took a deep breath and continued. "I can't take the weight of your love, I just can't. I'm getting lost on you, I feel like you'll be safe in the hands of another. I'm beyond damaged, I'm broken to the core. There are times I've felt maybe I'm not broken, just bent, but now, now I know I'm broken. Despite knowing broken things still work, I also know there's an expiry date. Broken things work till they don't."

Mine does too, But I learnt to smile, Against all odds. Heartbreak, Trauma, Depression, They made a home in me, Did they try same with you too? You're the kind of broken, That people far and wide, Would one day come to watch. Your scars would be beautiful, It'll shine for all to see. You're a different kind of beautiful, You're broken beautiful. A masterpiece, Most times isn't perfect. It's the flaws, That creates art. Be proud of yourself,

“I’m pathetic.” BRYCE Isla curls her slender arms around her waist. I watch in horror as my words cause her to physically shield herself. If I could drop-kick myself, I would because I’m a fucking asshole. I’ve shamed her, which is all Paul has ever done. People assume abusers only use violence on their victims, but it goes beyond that. Abusers break down every part of a person until there’s nothing left. It’s deconstruction. It doesn’t happen at once. It’s a slow, drawn-out campaign to strip all the layers until everything that makes them who they are is decimated.

The tip of my nose. "There is not a single iota of you that is unlovable. You draw people towards you as if you were the sunshine. You cast light wherever you go. If you were truly broken, truly damaged, you wouldn't be trying to live a life baking cupcakes to give joy to others. You would wither away in the dark, spread hate and anguish with every exhale. I know what broken looks like. I grew up with it. Stared it in the face. Killed it."

Dragging his battered body, he returned to my home, calling my name over and over at the door that remained firmly shut. I was inside, curled close to Noah, sleeping peacefully. Damian waited through the entire night, only to be forcefully expelled by Liam in the morning. His self-destruction, just as I had warned, had been utterly meaningless. His dignity, crushed by his futile self-harm, lay in ruins. Even the wolf within him was letting out weak, despairing wails. For all he had sacrificed, he received only my cold indifference. The light in his eyes had been extinguished completely. The tide of time could not be undone, and shattered vows could never be restored.

--- 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.

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.