Broken Heroines Novels & Stories

I harbored a deep resentment toward them, yet I still had to find a way to survive. No longer protected by the Brosnan family, I resorted to using my beauty to become a mistress, only to be pursued by a scorned wife and ultimately sold into prostitution. I got addicted to drugs and contracted various types of STDs. I died on a cold winter night, broke and starving. As I slipped away, amidst a world aglow with lights, not a single one shone for me. In my final moments, I asked myself if I had any regrets. No, I did not.

She stood up and walked to help him change his covers. "She's nothing like an ordinary woman, I'm sure she can protect herself even if he's against a hundred villains. She's a villain herself, you know." Claire chuckled, remembering just how tough Iris can be. "What I'm worried about is if does she still have the courage to be like that." "She's turned soft. Maybe because she's been with good people," Lance answered. "That's why you deserve to lay in bed with new sheets."

She was determined to live, he saw now. Whatever had happened to her, whoever had done this to her – that thing and that person hadn’t broken her. Not even fucking close. In that smashed up, shattered body there was the spirit of an a****n, the heart of a lioness, the iron will of a warrior. Under all that damage was a woman who was holding on to life with both hands, holding on as tight and as hard as humanly possible. She was going to get through this – no fucking debate or discussion on this point. She was going to fight.

Just like the other one beside it. I scoff under my breath, letting the bottle clink against the table as I set it back down. I should feel triumphant. I should feel whole. But as I stare at the shattered remain s of my life I crashed, at the man who once promised me forever, at the woman who stole my life— All I feel is the bitter taste of something unfinished.

The air around me disappeared and I felt the walls closing in. “Danica. Some of those bruises on your back and arm are at least ten days old.” “I..I…” I began to stutter as nervousness took over. He saw what I had tried to hide for so long. He placed a hand on my arm. “You don’t have to be nervous or scared. We are here to help. And I just want you to know, that you can always find solace here. There are plans put in place for women who need to get away from their homes. For women who don’t feel safe.”

"Come in." As the door slid open, a vision of loveliness entered the room, her golden blonde hair cascading down her back like a river of sunlight. Her piercing blue eyes sparkled with a keen intelligence, and her full lips curved into a subtle smile as she took in the scene before her. Despite her youthful appearance, this was no innocent ingénue - this was Stephanie, the Blood Axe family's most skilled and deadly spy and detective. Her beauty was a weapon, a tool she wielded with precision and grace, able to charm and disarm even the most hardened criminals.

It will be a weapon that I can use in dealing with the coming trials and will remind me that I can survive no matter what. I will leave this chapter of my life and be ready to face another stage. As a mother, child, sister, and friend who will continue to fight the challenges of life. The woman who gets hurt but still fighting. I am HAILEY HIAN AMARANTH, The Broken who choose to be The Martyr for the man I truly love.

Who had been taught to fear her own mother. That little girl was gone. In her place was this strong, talented, compassionate woman. A woman who built an empire on ethics instead of exploitation. Who chose healing over hurting. Who took everything I taught her, both the good and the bad, and made something better. Brock tried to destroy me. He tried to take Emma away from me. He tried to break us both. But he failed. We survived. We healed. We built something he could never touch or ruin or poison. We chose love. We chose hope. We chose to be better than our worst moments.

She wrote about what the hiding had built that the open alone could not have produced. She wrote: the breaking and the healing are both in the record. Neither one erases the other. The building that you do from the break is only possible because of the specific understanding that the break gave you. You did not earn the break. The break was wrong. But what you make from it is yours, and it is real, and it could not exist without having been you specifically who survived it and chose to build.

"You survived death, Thelma. You survived being reborn with all your memories intact. You survived discovering your parents were murderers. You survived a cursed heart. You're the strongest person I know!" "I'm not strong!" Tears streamed down her face. "I'm broken. Damaged. Everyone who gets close to me gets hurt. Maybe Morgana's right. Maybe it would be better if I just let go." "Bullshit." I shook her. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see someone who's been beaten down over and over and keeps getting back up. Someone who loves so fiercely she'd absorb dark magic to save others. Someone who marked her mate knowing she might die. That's not broken, Thel. That's incredible."