Broke Into Novels & Stories

He offered to drive me, but I opted for an Uber. I was still reeling inside from his drive back home from the Spa. Maybe I'd gotten PTSD from his driving. LOL. I had just climbed up the flight of stairs to my apartment, crossing the long hallway to my unit door when I met the door wide open with my roommate standing in the Living area and speaking to the Hostel Manager. "I came home from the grocery store this evening, to find the door open and broken," I heard Betty explain to him. Huh? Someone had broken into our apartment?

he said. “I don’t care, break me do all you want but don’t leave me like this” I growled in need, he must have understood that I was going to go violent if he didn’t do something so he pushed in himself in and stopped when he filled me. I cried out in pain, it was like something in me broke.

▄︻デ══━一 COLTON HAYES💥 I can’t believe someone actually broke into my house. In the middle of the fucking night. While I was in bed. With her. With the most important person in my life. It still pisses me off thinking about it. I hadn’t bothered with the mutt after I cuffed him—left him on the floor until the sun came up and his bones stopped cracking from the shift. Pain makes people talk. It also makes them weak. So I let him marinate in it.

the man instructed as he pulled a notebook and pen from his back pocket to jot down details. Laura hesitated but followed behind them, her movements tentative, as though she were a stranger in her own home. "Okay, well then. Um... I got home about 20 or 30 minutes ago," Laura began unsteadily. "The doorknob was broken, and the door was half-open. When I checked inside, it turned out some of our things were missing, some others were broken, and the whole house was completely ransacked. And... somebody has broken into our home, sir," she said, voice cracking. Her soul dissolved as tears rolled, struggling between crying and believing.

Tell me what did your dad do to you? (Amy) Mom, ever since you divorced dad, dad has been bringing different women home each and every day. When I protest he beats me until I can't move. He even lost his job, he become a drunkard. The worst part is... Tears started flowing down her face. (Roslyn) WHAT DID HE DO?

I kicked at the door three more times. As I was about to kick it in the fourth time, the door swung inwardly with a force that shocked me to my core. I yelped in surprise and fear. Somebody had broken into my home. Broken in and locked me out. This thought passed through my mind as I accidentally barrelled into the wall of muscle that was obscuring the doorway. “Who the fuck dares to disturb me like this?” I hear the wall of muscle say in a familiar voice. I couldn’t put my mind on it at that point because I was too drunk and too afraid to do so.

He took one plate and threw it against the window, breaking it into a thousand pieces. Peter approached through the broken window and said, “Can you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

It sets you free. She prayed she and Beau and her siblings and friends stayed happy and loving in their relationships. They had been through a lot together. They broke each other yes, but they fixed those cracks with gold and it was beautiful. There was wonder in destructionand they had each other to get through the rubble of brokenness. *BREAKING YOU* *ThE end*

they didn't even tell me good bye. Some minutes after 4,I finally got home,this was the earliest I'd gotten home since I resumed from my maternity break,that sounded really weird. I got to the gate of our home and punched in the code for the gate,I drove in to the garage and safely parked the car in its place;I got down and went straight to the door of the mansion,I could ear screaming and crying from my kids. Panicking,I searched my suitcase frantically for my keys,what could be wrong with my girls......?

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.