Damaged Like Us Novels & Stories

I just couldn't hold back anymore. I felt so hurt but my heart was hurt even more.. “ Of course…” Damian calmly answered and I pounced at him angrily.. “you're a monster! I hate you so much!” I kept punching his chest ignoring the fact that he was injured… He grabbed my hands and stopped me from hitting him.. “You're the one to talk… What do we call your fathers who sold my family's information to the Yakuza in Japan and my entire family ended up getting burned alive while I was made to watch?” Damian was also angry as he spoke as I was at a loss of words..

I correct, with bitterness in my tone, "You loved yourself, your desires, your control, all alone." "You destroyed me," I repeat, emphasizing each word, Darrick's face contorts in anguish, his cries mixing with mine, unheard. But my resolve remains unshaken, firm and strong, "No," I say, resolute, "you had your chance, and blew it ." Too much hurt, memories flood back, pain overwhelms, "Too much damage," irreparable, forever to remain. Darrick's cries mix with mine, a symphony of sorrow,

If we were meant to be together, we would meet again, just like last time. “Okay, Max. I will go back with you. I don’t have to pack anything; I can go anytime.” I, at long last, agreed with their opinion quietly. I knew a defeat when I saw one, and this time, the defeat was a huge one, with capital letters all over it. “You can do this, Kat,” Jack said softly, giving me strength. “I’m so sorry to have hurt Damian. I know he’s your close friend, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt him at all.” I looked at all his friends, apologizing for my mistake.

come here "Damien hugged her back consoling her. "We are humans, Maya, we make mistakes, and make drastic decisions, and that is why we are called humans. I know he hurt you but he was scared of losing you if he told you a lady was pregnant for him. he was scared of losing our friendship. Don't hide here because it won't solve anything. I promise not to interfere but you both have to sort things out like adult couples with maturity and sense. Hey look at me"Damien raised his sister's head as he cleaned her tears

I answered, smiling. "And don't worry, Ms. Damore, about the evil men who harmed you; we'll capture them and make them pay for what they did to you!" Shmue told me. My face turned pale when I heard him say " No!" I objected immediately. "What do you mean, Ms. Damore?" Shmue seemed perplexed by my reply. Oh sh*t, I spoke it out loud without thinking; what could I say to justify my reaction? " Ah, I mean I don't want you or anybody else to get injured because of me, so let's just leave those men alone who hurt me," I said, attempting to lie and justify my actions.

My body feels loose and slightly sore, like everything inside shifted around. It has been a long time since we let things turn that wild. The situation with Felix Moore Black hurt both of us more than expected. Pain like that pushes people closer together. Staying close feels necessary right now. That need probably explains why another mark sounded tempting. It likely explains why Damian wanted to give one too. “Sorry about the dress,” he says behind me while pulling his clothes back on. Not a single piece of his clothing is damaged. “You’ll buy me another one,” I reply.

i tell him and he laughs "That’s not bothering me, but its fine" i bade him goodbye and walked back home trying to block the image i saw of Damie

Despite everything, it was amazing to know she found comfort in my touch. "I'm damaged too Andy. My heart has been damaged to the point where I would never have seen myself with another mate, but meeting you and marking you has changed that feeling. I will always be broken in part at the death of my mate and infant son. Can you live with me being a damaged mate?" I asked her, and she looked up at me. "Of course, Chance, but I'm not sure you will want me when you realise how I was used and damaged by the Master." she responded the shame and hurt, returning to her eyes and causing their brightness to fog over again.

Here, the only noise came from the wind and the slow hum of living. Damian moved through the house like a ghost trying to remember how to be human. His bandages were gone now, though his left arm still trembled when he tried to lift heavy things. Sometimes, when the light hit him a certain way, I saw the faint silver line that ran down his chest—the scar the world would never know he carried. I woke up to the smell of burnt toast one morning and found him frowning at the toaster like it had personally wronged him. “I told you not to leave it on five,” I said, laughing before I could stop myself.

Four days in, and we'd already found something like a rhythm. Damien sent messages while I was sleeping, and I found his between morning meetings, a steady trickle of nothing important that somehow felt like everything. He sent a photo of terrible coffee one morning. Singapore has failed again. You've been there four days, I wrote back. Stop judging an entire country by one coffee. I have standards. I sent him a picture of his charger later that day. Still here. Unfortunately. Protect it with your life, he replied.