Beautiful Broken Book Novels & Stories

The stinging pain made Claire open her eyes. When she moved her left hand, she winced as the pain intensified. She looked at the back of her hand to see what had happened, and her eyes widened in shock. Her knuckles were torn, and fresh blood was oozing out. She quickly stood up from the hard wooden floor to grab the first-aid kit. “How did my hand get hurt like this?” she muttered as she cleaned the wound with alcohol. The intense stinging brought tears to her eyes. Unable to bear the sight of the small tear in her skin, she looked away. But what she saw was the mirror hanging next to her wardrobe, shattered into pieces, with shards still embedded in the frame.

The room was dense with Cecilia’s silence, A silence that felt unsettling, resembling the tranquility before a fierce storm. The moonlight streaming through the window lit up her tear-stained face, creating shadows that appeared to reflect the chaos within her heart. The pain in her chest came not only from the physical solitude. It stemmed from the rejection that penetrated more profoundly than any scratch or bite could. Her family abandoned her when she required their support the most.

A memory of Jericho suddenly flashed to her mind. -Flashback- "No matter what happens, I will always be here for you," Jericho said while smiling. "I will always be the guy you can come to whenever you have a problem. Someone who would drop everything he's doing just to come to you. I promise you that you will never be alone in this world." -End of Flashback- ------- Patricia woke up after a few hours and the first thing she did was break everything she touched inside her room. She destroyed her clothes, her bed, her bags and shoes, and every single piece of furniture around her. She screamed until there's no voice to scream with anymore.

Her chest pain intensified even further. "Honey," her mother cooed softly, opening her arms. Bella crumbled into her embrace. The warmth should have comforted her, yet it only highlighted how shattered she felt within her. Her voice broke as she sobbed, "Mum, Marcus rejected me." "My mate rejected me." The words felt bitter on her tongue. Expressing thoughts verbally made them feel more genuine. She had wished—prayed—that this was a terrible dream from which she would awaken. However, it was not.

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.

The bookshelf which was once filled with her favorite books was now nearly empty with one or two books lying here and there, rest of the books were either torn in half and were lying on the floor or they were burned and were now nothing but ashes. The photo frame holding a picture of him and Liza gazing at each other was now broken and shards of glass were strewn across the floor and the picture itself was now ripped just like his heart. He wondered where the love which was filled in the eyes of the man and woman gazing at each other in the picture had faded away leaving nothing but a blank look. The pain of betrayal had crushed his soul; it had cut him deeper than any knife could. Along wit

“And it looks like you’re doing that, so…” “You leaving is what hurt me!” I seethe, anger sinking its claws deeper into me at his pathetic justification for his actions. “And I’m not damaged, Callum, I’m broken! You broke me!” My voice cracks, my chest heaving as I shake my head, fresh tears springing to my eyes. My gaze flutters down to the pavement, my voice dropping to barely a whisper. “You broke me in ways that I didn’t even know were possible.” Callum’s throat clicks with a hard swallow, his shoes scuffing against the ground as he steps closer. “Ness…”