Create A Distraction Part 2 Novels & Stories

Let the game begin. --

Quieten my brain to distract me from Bryan and keep my focus on Bella, seduce Bryan, destroy Bella. The background noise helped too, it played this African afro beats that I enjoy so much, “Calm Down by Rema” and other songs in a playlist. The hum of treadmills like a steady heartbeat, the metallic clink of weights colliding, the occasional grunt from someone trying to impress the mirrors. Even the playlist the staff put on loop became a strange kind of white noise, making it easier to think.

" in Spanish.)..that sucked! So... that dream again huh?...It's been 6 long ass years since I even had that dream. I wonder if I can see even further back now? Alright…. I'll give it one try and if it works...putain oui! (She closes her eyes to concentrate and takes a long deep breath in. When she reopens her eyes she is now wearing a fierce and determined look.) Distortion! (Time freezes in place for a moment. With only Kimora seemingly capable of movement. The very world around her seems to have darkened to a black and white hue world as if drawn boldly. Kind of like a rough sketch. Every movement made leaves paintbrush-like strokes that flow behind her. Her movements look otherworldly now

System: [World Self-Destruction Countdown: 15 hours, 12 minutes remaining. [Dimensional energy instability detected. Anomalies will continue to intensify.] The anxiety eating away at Dean grew worse with every passing hour. At night, he could barely close his eyes. He stayed beside my bed in the ICU the entire time, holding my ice-cold hand while repeating the promises he had once made to me when we were young.

I hadn’t planned to go—but now I wanted to catch him red-handed. The drive stretched endlessly, every passing second sharpening the tension inside me. My chest ached, my thoughts spiraling as I tried to focus on Noah’s chatter about his new project and company. I even pulled out my phone, scrolling through videos on TikTok, desperate for something to distract me.

Another message. I open it before I can stop myself.

Something that would prevent me from beating the hell out of myself. I pour some in a glass and I take a gulp from it. The burning sensation manages to take my mind away from what I’ve done but only for a few seconds. Once the flame in my throat dies down, the fight makes its way back to my mind. I finish the glass in my hand and pour myself more whiskey; I need this. I need this distraction. I don’t want to take drugs now, I don’t want to break my record of being three days clean, so I need to resort to something else.

Dante’s body went rigid beside me, every muscle locking like steel under his suit. My stomach twisted into knots so tight I felt sick. Distractions. The word slithered under my skin like ice, settling cold and heavy in my chest. Distractions. That was what I was to her. A problem to be managed. A mistake to be erased. We stepped into the doorway.

I eased off the gas a bit. My hands shook as I overtook a slow, red Honda. I can't have distractions. Malea is a distraction. I can't have feelings for Malea. I shouldn't. I refused to. It would make everything so complicated. I don't have feelings for her. In fact, as of today, the only way to stop being distracted by her is to despise her. I told myself. I need to focus on my rank as CEO and not on Malea. Third Person POV

Dishes to wash. I set the cup down and start running the water. Ten minutes later, I finish cleaning the dishes, the counters are wiped. I need a distraction. I grab my laptop from the bedroom and proceed to the couch, get comfortable, set up coffee on the coffee table and open up my laptop, vowing to focus on work instead of my ridiculous ex-boyfriend and his ridiculous face and his ridiculous laugh and — Nope. Work. “I’d be lucky if I get any work done today”. I mutter.