Book Broken Pieces Novels & Stories

A little deeper. And that was it. Roman broke.

I didn't ask for anything that wasn't rightfully mine, but I made damn sure to get everything that was. I glanced at Zachary beside me, he looked completely broken. Anxious. Defeated. Nothing like the confident man I'd married. "Ella, is this really it for us? No second chances?" "That's right. We're done." I studied his face, remembering how nervous he'd been when he first asked me out all those years ago. But I wasn't that starry-eyed girl anymore. A cracked mirror can never reflect a perfect image again. Zachary and I—our story had reached its final page.

I launch the empty cup in my hand across the room, the porcelain shattering as it hits the wall. I sag to the floor, screaming into my hands as I break down. I hear my mum fussing and Freya trying to calm me, but I don’t register their words as I scream out all my pain and frustration. Strong arms scoop me up and hold me close. I know it’s Axel without looking. I sense my guys closing in around us, lending me their strength and reassuring me. “Josie, I know it’s hard, but you need to calm down,” Deacon’s steady voice floats into my mind.

Pain shot through my scalp as I stumbled, desperately trying to regain balance. The glasses I held, remnants of the party's revelry, slipped from my grasp, shattering on the unforgiving floor. The crash reverberated like a discordant symphony, drawing the attention of the entire room. Time seemed to freeze as the fragments scattered around me, a chaotic dance mirroring the shattered pieces of my composure.

"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."

Like I was reciting a script I’d been forced to learn. But I said them anyway. Because he’d told me not to break. Because that was the only thing I had left that still felt like mine—whether I followed through or not. My weight shifted, uneven and careful, as I tested my balance. The room swayed slightly, exhaustion pulling at me like chains, but I stayed standing. Barely. Just enough to keep from sinking back down and letting the pain win. “I won’t break,” I repeated, quieter this time, my voice steadier than I felt. “Even if I already feel shattered.”

Something broken, fragile. Something I had ruined.

My body aches, but nothing hurts as much as the emptiness growing inside my chest. I shuffle forward and kneel next to the frame, reaching for one of the wooden slats that once supported the mattress. I try to wedge it back into place, but the other side is cracked, and the bracket it belongs to has been ripped straight from the joint. I try again. It doesn’t fit. Nothing fits. He broke it beyond repair. My hands fall to my lap. I stare at the wreckage, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. Then it all hits at once.

Tears were slipping down their eyes. The whole study has turned upside down. The glass table, smashed and broken. Books from the bookshelf were torned and rested on the floor. The glass pieces of vase were scattered. The place depicted of an utter apocalypse. And among all these broken and torned things, there lied a safe in the middle of the room. Bullets pierced through it and was now tattered and battered. Sat there on the sofa were three siblings, with nothing but tearful eyes.

I falter as I see the scene waiting for me inside the house. All the furniture is messed up and toppled like there’s a clear struggle that went on. The vases and the frames were all broken. The TV is still on, but it’s broken. And I think I see a small stain of blood on it, like someone’s head got smashed in it.