Broken Things Jodi Picoult Novels & Stories

But to Adrian, it probably meant something. My fingers tightened. I thought about Leo. About the scar under my shirt. About Marcus saying I was getting too close, losing focus. About Aurora Winters dying alone on a bedroom floor. My hand opened. The glass fell. It hit the hardwood with a crack that split the silence. Crystal exploded. Shards scattered across the floor, glittering like diamonds. I stood there. Staring at the destruction. A laugh bubbled up. Small at first. Then bigger. I had broken his glass. His special, precious glass.

It still feels weird, still feels wrong. Unsure of how much time I waste pacing the room, my eyes fixate on the broken frame. Dodging shards of glass, I pluck the frame from the mess. The picture still sits inside the wooden frame. Shaking some of the glass loose, I flip it over. There’s nothing else that could make what Gideon said more true than this picture staring back at me.

I wasn’t just breaking things, I was smashing the life we had built together, a life that was now nothing more than a lie. By the time I stopped, the living room was in shambles. Glass shards littered the floor, photo frames were broken and scattered everywhere, and the walls looked bare, stripped of the happy memories that had once filled them. I stood in the center of the wreckage, chest heaving, hands trembling, as the adrenaline drained from my body.

All of them. I began in the living room, moving from corner to corner, shelf to shelf. In the process of cleaning I found a movie ticket stub. It was from one of our early dates. I held it, staring down at the tiny piece of paper, just staring at it made my heart ache. He had bought that ticket for me. I could remember him laughing as we shared popcorn, him reaching over to hold my hand when I jumped at the scary parts. But then I reminded myself why I was doing this. Marcus. The man who had broken me, who had destroyed so much of who I thought I was. I needed to erase the memories, and immediately I toss the ticket in the trash.

Silas's POV I broke three things before I was satisfied. The glass first — a clean, sharp explosion that the men in the room absorbed without flinching. They'd learned. Then the lamp. Then a chair, which took real effort but was more satisfying than the rest combined. Something about breaking furniture tells the body it's doing something. I straightened my jacket. Sat back down.

My world shattered. --- "They hit me." Emily struggled to speak between sobs. "I tried to stop them." "They had guns." "They..." She broke down completely. "I'm so sorry." I wrapped my arms around her. None of this was her fault. Marcus had planned this. Every detail. Every move. He knew exactly how to hurt me. He had taken the one person I couldn't live without. --- Michael crouched beside the broken window. "There are tire marks." One detective hurried upstairs.

But just then, a tearing pain ripped through my chest. "Argh!" A violent cough ripped through me, and blood sprayed from my lips. My knees gave out. I crashed to the floor as a phantom hand plunged into my chest and tore my soul in half. This feeling... The mate bond... it's breaking! "No! Evelyn!" I screamed at the sky. "Impossible!" The pain grew more intense. I could feel the invisible thread connecting our souls snapping, inch by inch. Every break was like another slice into my heart. "Austen!" Seraphina knelt beside me in terror. "What's wrong?"

I had pushed her out of the way to protect her, taking the impact myself and ending up paralyzed, never to walk again. One of my kidneys had even ended up failing. However, since Queenie had been pregnant at the time, I had begged the doctor not to tell her to avoid upsetting her. When I had first learned I was paralyzed, I hadn't wanted to burden Queenie and had even considered divorcing her. But she had stubbornly refused, saying she loved me and would stay by my side no matter what. Yet, time could be both cruel and unyielding. The woman who had once said she would always love me and stay by my side had eventually disappeared. Now, as I looked at her holding a knife to Leroy's neck, deman

" I roared, slamming the phone onto the ground. Jessica’s departure had left me utterly drained, yet these people continued to suck the life out of me like leeches, greedily feeding off my blood. I closed my eyes and buried my head in my hands, overcome by despair.

Damian asks. Am I okay? I feel dirty. I feel violated. I feel used. I'm in unbearable pain. I'm covered in blood, piss, and semen. I can taste shit in my mouth. My body won't stop trembling. There's tears falling from my eyes. He broke me.