Baine Of My Existence Novels & Stories

"You are a sick, twisted monster." My mother glared at me. The doctor frowned and recommended genetic testing, suspecting a rare disease. My mother only sneered. "Rare disease? She's mentally warped. She fakes being sick to get attention!" The noon sun blazed overhead. I huddled under the shade canopy, trembling violently, clutching my collar shut. Then my mother shoved the canopy aside and overturned it. She tore off my long coat and pushed me down onto the scorching sand. The intense UV rays seared through my skin in an instant. Huge blisters swelled up along my arms, then burst one after another. My mother stood there, revulsion all over her face. "Iris, have you no shame left at all, fak

I count my own because I need to know that I am still inside my body, that I have not floated up into the storm or dissolved into the stone or become something that exists only in the space between his mouth and my skin. One. Two. Three. The transom rattles. Four. Five. The rain shifts direction, slamming against the eastern wall. Six. Seven. His thumb moves on my arm, a quarter inch, the callused pad of it dragging across the wet fabric of my sleeve. Eight. Nine. I could turn my head. I could close the distance. I could find his mouth in the dark and I know, with a certainty that sits in my chest like a held breath, that he would let me.

Darkness closes in around me, and it's as if my body is plunging, or rather, rolling into an abyss as I lie here. The sensation is so vivid that I feel like my soul is shifting out of my body, and my eyes snap open in alarm. I have a fleeting sense that I might have momentarily dozed off or passed out. When I raise my free hand, it still feels heavy and uncoordinated, as if my limbs are being controlled by someone else. I force myself to push up, tasting bile in the back of my throat, and drag myself towards the kitchen. My back is hunched over, and every step feels like a struggle.

And me, stepping back, stepping back, finally sitting on a chair in the hallway, watching the closed door without seeing anything, without hearing anything, without understanding anything, except that my mother's name is Viviane, that she is alive somewhere in the world, and that everything I have built, everything I believed, everything I have been is collapsing like a house of cards that a single breath is enough to annihilate. ---

Fudge, these blood trails might give them a hint that I’m hiding here! But I can’t do anything! I don’t have the strength to stand up! My whole body feels like giving up. Am I really this weak? Am I really this useless? Am I really this powerless? Am I really this helpless? All I can do was to gasp when I felt them near me. Is this really the way I’m dying? Without even seeing her again? My senses came back when I heard Amansinaya’s voice ringing in my head. “Attention to the both of you…” She stopped

His every thrust made me see new heights of the world,and he non existent groans and dirty mouth made me flow like a river. I can't believe I'm letting my best friend's brother take me in their music room.

So when she found her hand at his back when he loomed over her, she didn't idle her fingers. He kept pushing in and out of her carelessly, each thrust more powerful than the latter. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes as he rode into her like a monster. If it were to be an old bed, it would've been creaking noisily by now. Can she blame him? He was still unconscious, busy thinking that it was one of his usual dreams. So much of a sexsomnia and SRMD. The result is inevitable. The window which hasn't been closed got hurled back by the wind, allowing the dawn breeze to fill the room and illuminated its light on them. Shivers ran down her spine causing goosebumps to form on her skin when the

"You don't believe me, do you?" I laughed without humor. "How could I?" I told him, finding this absurd. "I know that I am not human, but not an ordinary Alerian? Pfft! Please, what am I, genetically engineered?" "Bryson, you are born with a purpose," he said with utmost seriousness. "You are meant for something big and something that would save lives, especially with the prophecy." And with a whisper, he added, "And with Reagan..."

Marissa’s P.O.V Pain is all I feel. From my head, to my lungs, to my teeth and even my internal organs. Everything felt like someone was tearing through every part of me with a newly sharpened knife but that wasn’t all. I’m surrounded by darkness, and it felt like it was seeping into my soul. I am literally blind in here and that scared me more than I could admit “No No No!”. I yelled out, knowing that there was nothing in here, besides my pitiful self and the darkness, as my voice echoed back to me like it was mocking me

“You already are.” Cold fear crept through her. The room had only two exits. She sat between them. “How do you know where I am?” she asked. No answer. Just that breathing. “Open the cabinet.” Her stomach twisted. She stood up, walked to the third cabinet. Her hand shook as she opened it. Inside—just a small, plain envelope. No name. No label. She opened it and pulled out a photograph. Her father, standing in a hospital corridor, talking to someone she couldn’t see. The photo looked recent. But he’d been dead for two years.