Death Addict Novels & Stories

I wasn't sure how I'd get rid of this addiction. The cruelest thing about addiction is the way it twists your mind. You tell yourself, “This is my last drink.” “This is the last time I’ll fucking taste her.” But deep down, you know that’s a lie. You’re caught in the grip of a craving that makes you feel more alive and more fucking miserable at the same time.

I remembered Daniel trying to convince me not to fall into the trap - "It's a path of no return, buddy, don't fall for it. You'll risk losing your career, man. - Relax buddy! - I smiled unwillingly - It's just to try it out, I need it to get well! But contrary to what I imagined, I hadn't been fine. I sank deeper and deeper until I couldn't get free anymore. I needed to go to hell for at least a few minutes a day. I was a drug addict. A playboy junkie. - Son? - I swallowed dryly - Let Dad explain.... was a mistake, okay? I'm already cured I mu.....

I had no idea what he was saying but I know it is not something nice. This man is truly heartless, now I understand why he has no wife or kids because he would make them suffer for every single thing they do. Minute after minute my body grew weak and the hot scorching sun triggered my sweat glands. My body was drenched in sweat and heat, my head pounding profusely as I struggled to maintain a stamina with the heavy plant over my head. If my mother had stopped her gambling years ago I would have never been in such a mess, I am here suffering the torments of this madman because of her stubbornness and addiction.

Anything to distract himself. "Oh, that's right...your old man passed away years ago. And your loser brother. What was his name, Bobby?" Nic kept digging the handcuffs further and further into his skin. He knew they were probably bleeding by now. "Yeah, I saw the pictures of what they did to him. Fuck, they made a mess, didn't they? But, you know what I say...serves the fucker right. He was nothing but a drug addict anyway, so who gives a shit if you only had half of his body to bury," Marsh laughed.

"I don't believe in jinxes." My phone rang. Unknown number. "Don't answer it," Damien said. I answered it anyway. "Alex Carter?" "Yes." "This is Detective Morrison with the NYPD. We need to talk to you about Christopher Morrison. Are you familiar with that name?" Chris. My ex. "I know him. Why?" "He was found dead this morning. Apparent suicide. Your name was in a note he left." The detective paused. "We'd like to ask you a few questions." I set the phone down carefully. Damien was watching me.

"Clara... that was..." "Intense," I whispered, curling up. Addiction deepened, the cycle unbroken. What now?

It looked like a medical report. My eyesight was excellent. I could clearly see my name at the top. Something compelled me to take a closer look. The moment I read the contents, my eyes widened in shock. My entire body started trembling uncontrollably. This wasn't a treatment report. It was an experiment log. It stated clearly that I'd had no mental illness when this started. Through systematic psychological manipulation, I'd been conditioned to believe I had a sex addiction. The notes detailed how effective the conditioning had been. In just one month, I'd gone from a normal woman to someone completely enslaved by desire.

To wait for him and not be scared. He listened for more people, making sure they wouldn’t be ambushed with her off behind him and unguarded from that direction, but these two were alone. From the disgusting scent that drifted on the breeze into his nostrils, there was crack cocaine seeping out of their pours. They were needing their next fix and weren’t about to take no for an answer. When addicts need money, they’ll do anything to get it. Daniel had enough experience to know that to be a fact.

His voice in my head. Lane’s voice too—quieter, steadier. “Addiction is often just an ache for something that feels like power.” What did Jason make me feel? Wanted. Needed. Destroyed. He gave me the illusion of power by taking all of it away. And now… I didn’t know if I missed him, or the part of me that didn’t know any better. I woke up the next morning to a message from an unknown number. “He won’t love you when he finds out what you are.”

She teased and he chuckled. "You love me like that. Don't lie. You like the whole of me and I'm obsessed with the whole of you, addicted even." He said, quietly and she could feel the breeze around her too. Her heart skipped a bit at his phone confession. "I'm addicted to you, Bella Mia. Fuçkin addicted, and I hate the thought of being set free from this addiction. Cage me like a bird on your palm with your fingers, I don't mind. I would do anything for you. No matter what."