Cruel Intentions Journal Novels & Stories

reasons why I'm alright You don't know what it's like You don't know what it's like Don't look at me like that Just like you understand Don't try to pull me back Let me just give up Let me just let go If this isn't good for me Well, I don't wanna know Let me just stop trying Let me just stop fighting I don't want your good advice or reasons why I'm alright You don't know what it's like You don't know what it's like. A tear left from Jonathan eye. The voice of Trisha contains so much emotions. He could hear, Trisha crying while singing the song? Why? His gaze fell on the diary on the table. He didn't see it before. He went near. "My life as Trisha Jonathan Wisdom" He didn't knew Trisha write

It's like something else is controlling me I don't have time to register my elongating claws before I immerse them in her stomach and pull out her inside Her screams of pain are satisfying. I feel a deep hatred towards her that I don't understand. "You wanted a fight?" I hold her chin and allow my claws to dig deep until they're drawing blood. The woman whimpers, I stare at her trembling lips and smile. "Well, see you in hell, bitch" I murmur and rip out her throat. I don't stop, my claws dip in her chest and pull out her heart and I crash it on my palm. I only stop when her body is torn apart.

Cold, greasy food scraps, coffee grounds, and stinking chunks of meat poured over me. “Fuck!” I shouted, jumping back and wiping the filth from my face. My eyes burned with humiliation. Lumi and her friends shrieked with laughter. “Look at her. Now she looks like what she is on the inside too. A pile of shit,” Lumi cackled. “What are you staring at, nobody? Want to hit me? Go on, try. My father is the pack’s beta. Touch me and they’ll skin you alive and throw your mother into the woods.”

“What do we do? Orders are orders, right?” I didn’t answer immediately. My hand hovered over my notepad. The one where I had been writing everything down—names, dates, behavior. Just in case. It started off as a precaution. A backup plan. But now? Now it was a journal of guilt. A diary of doubt. And maybe… a confession waiting to happen. “We follow the plan,” I said finally, voice hollow. “But we play smart. No screw-ups.” Felix's eyes narrowed. "You don't intend to withdraw, do you?"

"Be careful. Trust no one except me. And whatever you do, don't let anyone see your power until you're ready to use it." She leaves me alone with the journal and the weight of my heritage. Outside, the moon rises higher, spilling through the window like silver fire. The journal glows faintly on my lap, its ancient script humming beneath my fingertips. I open my phone and see dozens of new notifications. More reposts of the video. More cruel comments. More people sharing my humiliation for their own entertainment. In the reflection of the window, I don't see Evangeline .... the broken, blood-soaked girl.

She secretly pulled out the journal notebook and read the second journal. Journal No.2 I need to search for the contestant. I think ten is enough for the show. But unfortunately, I can't choose recklessly or pick up on a random street. I'm going to pretend as a shark loan, as usual where they can get whatever the money they want. Of course, they don't have to pay their debt, but all I need is to persuade them to murder a loved one in order to be free of so-called debt. But what would happen if they didn't obey my order? Simple. I can kill their loved one instead and put a set up that causes them to be framed for the crime they didn't commit. I will make sure the crime scene is brutal as hell

A strange fuzziness washed over Kristen's mind. She smiled, glad that Natalie and Beth were having a good date with her brother. They were both good girls. Not at all like the slutty versions of themselves Kristen wrote in her naughty journal. Just like Ms. Waters wasn't a free-use slut and her father wasn't really fucking Britney and Noriko right now. Kristen leaned back in her chair, wondering what to right next. Class pictures were coming up... Was there something there?

She planned to travel through the Pacific Northwest, staying in intentional communities and learning from other women-centered spaces. “I need to stretch again,” she told Emma as they packed her things into the car. “So I can return more whole.” Emma hugged her tightly. “You always come back brighter.” “And you always hold it down.” Jules handed Emma a sealed envelope before she left. “Don’t open this until next month. Promise?” Emma nodded, tucking it away. “Promise.” As the month unfolded, more letters and emails came from readers. Some praised the book. Others shared their own stories of betrayal, of renewal, of rediscovery.

It was more than just a crush; it was a dangerous fixation that could lead to more than just a simple assault. I knew I couldn't let this go on. I had to do something to protect Claire. With trembling hands, I put the journal back on the table, careful not to disturb the arrangement. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in on me with the weight of his twisted love. I took a deep breath and stepped back, surveying the room one last time.

Every time they questioned Emma, she'd start trembling, clutching her head as if the memories were too painful to bear. Even her therapist vouched for her, saying, "Ms. Jent was nearly killed by her sister, and she's dealing with severe trauma from that event." Hector's gaze softened, full of sympathy. Yuna, standing nearby, scoffed. "Feeling guilty, Emma?" Furious, Hector nearly lunged at Yuna, and the police station erupted in chaos. Emma's constant distress only complicated the investigation, and the fire scene left behind little usable evidence. It all seemed to line up with Emma's story.