Beautiful Broken Book Novels & Stories

I correct, with bitterness in my tone, "You loved yourself, your desires, your control, all alone." "You destroyed me," I repeat, emphasizing each word, Darrick's face contorts in anguish, his cries mixing with mine, unheard. But my resolve remains unshaken, firm and strong, "No," I say, resolute, "you had your chance, and blew it ." Too much hurt, memories flood back, pain overwhelms, "Too much damage," irreparable, forever to remain. Darrick's cries mix with mine, a symphony of sorrow,

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.

She would restore its brilliance. And she would never again mistake dependence for partnership. As she turned off the showroom lights and stepped into the night, the glass reflected not a broken woman — —but a forged one. And this time, the fire belonged to her.

The sound it made when it broke filled the silence like thunder, but it wasn’t enough. I swept the shelf clean—jars, scrolls, dried herbs, candleholders—all of it crashed to the ground in a whirlwind of fragments and falling petals. I tipped over the bench, kicked the cracked basin of water, let the books fall from their stacks and scatter across the floor like wounded birds. I screamed until my voice cracked, until my throat burned and my chest throbbed. Then I sank to the floor, breathing in shards and ink and lavender, my arms wrapped around my knees.

I guess it was all in my head, I suddenly didn't feel like being around her anymore. I stood up, nodded my head at her and went out the front door. I just kept following my feet to wherever they were taking me, especially since it was away from Anne. I guess it was my time to get drunk, because I ended up in a bar. I know its not healthy to drink in the morning and all, but I had to get over this heart break. ************** Nine bottles later and I was already telling the guy waiting the bar all the problems I'd been through in life. He felt like my friend already,

Eva was a bit surprised when I used the term ‘we’. “Yes, Eva…. I said ‘we’. I want to protect my baby but I can’t neglect others either. But, for now, please eat your breakfast. I will search for the book.” I reassure her as I trotted up the stairs. I didn’t want to give her a chance to refuse. I found the book on the broken table. Turning the pages carefully, I realized that it was a very ancient book. Even the pages seemed to be made of some other material. Eventually, I reached the page that was torn. It wasn’t a neat tear. It looked as if someone had torn it hastily or maybe accidentally.

Hello Lovelies. From here the part two of this book SHATTERED YET STRONG will begin. It is the story of Gabriel and Louis. It will have the characters of book 1, BROKEN BUT BEAUTIFUL continues but they won't be focused much till the middle of the book. Also, this book mentions the triggers of rape, assault and heartbreak. I would suggest if it isn't your cup of tea, you may leave it here. Tabby Chapter 1. Letting the Pain out...

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

Lena smiled a fraction wider—and it hit him like a body blow. God, he was miserable. As she swept them across at the checkout, Julian prowled the aisles back and forth, his fingers dancing over the spines but not really looking. He stood in front of the poetry aisle. A hand-scrawled notice taped to the shelf read: *"'For broken hearts and brave souls.'*" Julian snorted under his breath. *Broken* was weakness. *Bravery* was folly. But still, his hand closed over a slim book without deliberation.

About everyone she planned to destroy. Her handwriting messy. Jagged. Like her thoughts. Like her heart. In the middle of the page, circled three times, one word stood out. Fire. She stared at it. Smiled. Touched the word like a prayer. She laughed again. Quieter this time. More disturbing because of it. "They think I'm broken." She whispered. "They think I'm done." She looked up. Eyes gleaming. "But broken things are the most dangerous. Because they have nothing left to lose."