Book Fragile Novels & Stories

But I can't. "I'm scared. What if one day, Uncle finally gives up on me? I won't be able to face that, Abby." Abigail felt Flavia's fingers grip her shirt tighter. Abigail also hugged her best friend tightly. She cried with her, too. 'Oh my God, how strong and fragile Flavia is at the same time. Why do you treat my friend like this? I know You love Your creatures so much. I know that You will not test her beyond her abilities. I know that this is a test of her faith and patience. But God, when will she get the fruits of her patience and sadness?

I tried my best to stay calm. “Wait girl,” Phoebe said while clicking a photo of my shoulder. I was bewildered to see the photo on Phoebe's phone, a square-shaped faded black mark almost like a QR code. I brushed my fingers on the shoulder but I felt nothing different. So I slowly applied pressure on it with my finger. And once again the twinge of pain ran through my body. What is this on my shoulder? I was totally confused. “ Amy, please tell me that you got this mark from a burn” Stacey was almost crying. She didn’t need me to talk. From the look on my face, she knew that this is not from a burn.

My heart leapt as I realized we could make it. Berrring. It sounded like the ring of a delicate bell. The sound seemed to roll and disappear. I realized it instantly. A test tube has just rolled off the counter in front of me, and it was heading towards the floor. My realization was too slow as I watched Nathan stretch out his hand. Miraculously, I saw the delicate glass barrel dance across his reaching fingertips. It bounced, as if playing keep-away. Then it disappeared from his grasp. The sound of the tube shattering sounded like a gunshot in my ears. It was followed by the most horrifying sound I’d ever heard. Instantly, I felt something grab me by the hood, and this time, it wasn’t Natha

Claire stated cheering me up. “A lot of people.” I replied crying. “I lost my baby. I was so stupid this is my fault. I should have stayed.” “It wasn’t your fault. It was that stupid truck drivers fault.” Claire replied. “No it wasn’t. I was being stupid. I bent down to reach my cell phone that fell in the car. I should have focused my attention on the road. It’s my fault. I killed my baby. I killed my baby.” I cried hysterically.

But Lucas, as if consumed by rage, grabbed her hair and slammed her onto the glass coffee table. The sharp sound of shattering glass, accompanied by Lilith’s scream, echoed through the room. Shards of glass flew everywhere, cutting into Lilith’s face. Blood gushed out, staining her clothes red. Her brother rushed forward to save her, only to be met with a brutal punch to the temple from Lucas. He groaned, fell to the ground, twitched a few times, and then laid still. That punch took his life instantly. Lucas stood in the wreckage of the living room, letting out low, chilling growls.

Something broken, fragile. Something I had ruined.

Sparks of glass scattered like cruel confetti. I stared at the shattered phone, my whole body trembling. “That’s it,” I whispered hoarsely. “We’re done. All of us. Forever.” At that moment, when our last fragile bond was broken, I also let go of the part of me that believed in forever. When I finally stumbled into my apartment, the silence hit me harder than the betrayal itself. The door slammed shut behind me, rattling in its frame. My keys slipped through my fingers and clattered against the wooden floor. The sound echoed far too loudly in the suffocating quiet.

I can never be f*cking happy. “Never!” I push the glass full of water from the table along with her note and the glass shatters against the wall. I walk into the shards, scattered amidst the water. The corners of the note become damp, absorbing the water around it. A glass crystal pierces into my finger and a red drop falls on the white note, just under the letter g. “Plinio?” comes an unsteady voice as the door creaks open. No way.

“We have matching luggage again,” Janice joked as Byron settled into his usual spot and set up the tape recorder. “Hmm?” he asked, confused at her odd remark. “It's from an old horror movie...don't remember which one.” “I'm a little slow today, didn’t catch it,” Byron said, forcing a smile. “The bags under our eyes.” she pointed at his face. “Oh. Yeah, I had a long night.” “She got in your head again, didn't she?”

The familiar guitar rift at the start of ‘Killing In The Name’ by Rage Against the Machine bleeds out from the speakers, stealing the silence from the room, and I immediately relax. “Jesus, it looks like a bomb went off in here,” I murmur as I continue toward the leather sectional, raking a hand through my hair and surveying the damage from last night along the way. Every surface in here is littered with liquor bottles and plastic cups, joints and cigarettes stubbed out on the glass surfaces of the end tables. There’s a black lacy bra hanging from one of the lamps and a huge red stain on the rug by the back patio, likely from the Jungle Juice that was going around last night. People are fuck