Depression Chat Novels & Stories

It has been a year since our mate bond formed, but my fated mate Damon Borden has never lost control around me. Even in the height of desire, he will only use toys to help me find release, but he always refuses to let me help him. Despite how much my heart aches, I plan to let him go. Even though he is my fated mate, he doesn't love me. I get a potion from Helena Craw, the witch. This potion will dissolve our mate bond. However, the night before I'm about to take it, I stumble upon Damon in the study, using my photo while venting his desire. He does it again and again while murmuring my name and saying that he loves me. I'm shocked. I want to record the scene with my phone, but I accidentally take Damon's old phone. I tap on his chat records with Helena. "I'm the fated mate of the woman I love, and I love her very much. However, I'm far too strong. What if I hurt her while making love to her?" "How can I restrain my desire and control my strength to please a female wolf?" "If my mate runs off with someone else, how can I overcome my possessiveness and continue to love her?"

On the Memorial Day weekend, Mason Hayes, the student my wife, Abigail Sullivan, had been sponsoring, insisted on riding with me back to his hometown. My car was small, the drive was long, and the trunk was already packed. There was no way to fit another adult, so I turned him down as politely as I could. That night, Abigail came home and stayed quiet for a long time before finally saying, "He ended up walking along the highway. His feet were torn up." I frowned, trying to make sense of it. "It's a holiday weekend. There are Ubers everywhere. He could've booked one in minutes." She nodded softly, the same gentle expression she always wore, and poured me a glass of water. I drank it. The next thing I knew, everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing under a brutal midday sun on an empty stretch of highway. Abigail leaned into Mason's shoulder, holding her phone up as she livestreamed. There was a faint smile on her lips, but there was nothing warm about it. "You said getting around was easy, right? Why don't you try walking home yourself?" The livestream was packed. The chat flooded with messages, people placing bets on how far I would make it. I looked straight into the camera, ran my tongue over my cracked lips, and said, "Done enjoying the show? Now come and pick me up."

I worked as a caregiver at a psychiatric hospital. One day, during a quiet shift, I came across a post from my husband's widowed sister-in-law. [Just launched my first AI-generated short drama! Hope you'll check it out and support me!] I tapped on the video attached to the post. The villain's face was identical to mine. I immediately messaged her and demanded that she take the video down. Instead, she posted our chat in the family group. Then she added: "If it really bothers you, I'll delete it. It's just a shame my first attempt at starting a business has already failed..." My husband replied almost instantly: "Don't delete it!" Then he tagged me. "So, what if you played a vicious villain? That's called making sacrifices for art." "This is the first business your sister-in-law has ever started. Stop being so dramatic." My mother-in-law chimed in as well: "Your sister-in-law is trying to build something of her own. What's wrong with supporting her?" "What do you mean she used your face without permission? We're family. Why make such a fuss over something so trivial?" "She used all of our faces, and none of us complained. What, do you think your face is worth more than everyone else's?" What they didn't know was that I was an undercover investigative journalist. So yes, my face really was worth more than theirs.

I had always been a little dizzy by nature. My head was often muddled. Three years ago, in that same haze, I picked up a drunk woman and brought her home. She woke up and stared at me for a while before suddenly saying, “Let’s get married.” I did not think much about it. I just nodded and thus became the rich husband of a powerful family. They gave me a credit card that I could use however I liked, and I could live in a luxury house without any limits. We had a son, but alas, he was kidnapped. It took me two years, but I managed to find him again. I was about to tell my wife when she handed me a divorce agreement. “I’m bankrupt. This is my last sum of money. Take it and leave.” At that moment, a few chat messages suddenly appeared in front of me. [Wow! The female lead’s crush, the male lead, has returned to the country!] [She is probably pretending to be bankrupt. She wants to get rid of the male supporting character to go back to the male lead!] [She got drunk back then because the male lead left. The male supporting character was just a stand-in!] What? So I was a replacement? I nodded slowly. “Oh. Then let’s get a divorce.” The light in her eyes went out at once. I looked at her and felt that I had forgotten to say something. Whatever. I would say it when I remembered.

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

Tiara Villaraza is the only daughter of two business tycoons in the country. Of all the luxuries in life, she could ask for nothing more, except for one thing-- love. The love that can wash away the neglect, violence and abuse she feels from her parents. At the young age of sixteen, she realized that she secretly loved her math teacher. Unexpectedly, the opportunity to be with her teacher appeared in front of her like a wish granted. They are arranged to be married! Because she was too innocent and too gullible back then, she agreed to marry Trystan Fardein Fortez in Paris, France. She was so happy until her young heart broke. Due to depression, she decided to end her life. She then had a car accident that left her in a coma for a year, and she lost all her memories. In the blink of an eye, everything is gone. She has no choice but to start anew. New beginning, new memories, and new life. Then, something suddenly happened. The man she had forgotten for three years reappeared in her life. This person had become her professor who wantonly claimed her as if she were his property. At first, she was thrilled because of his handsome face and gorgeous body but there came a time when that admiration disappeared. What will happen if the memories she forgot suddenly come back? Will a Trystan Fardein Fortez, her professor, tame her again?

My sister had struggled with depression since childhood. The doctor warned that she could not tolerate any kind of stimulation. As a result, my entire life fell silent. To avoid upsetting her, I never dared to laugh at home. I never dared to cry. When I got hurt, I did not even have the right to say it hurt. My parents would hug me with apologetic expressions and say, "You're the good one. Your sister's illness requires the whole family to work together. You're healthy. You're strong. Let her have more, okay?" One day, I accidentally knocked over a cup. The crash sounded enormous in the quiet room, and my sister's emotions shattered at once. My father struck me for the first time. He roared, "Can't you be careful? Do you have to push her until she dies before you're satisfied?" He shoved me to the floor. The back of my head slammed against the corner of the table, and blood poured out. But my whole family rushed to my screaming sister. No one even glanced at me. I lay on the cold floor as my vision blurred and my consciousness began to fade. To them, my sister's feelings were the only emergency. My small injury could wait. They did not know that bleeding inside the skull does not wait.

When I arrived at my wedding in my bridal gown, I found an octagonal fighting ring set up in the center of the stage. My fiance, Derek Hale, was holding the hand of his "girl bro," Chloe Shaw. With a smile, he handed me a pair of boxing gloves and explained, "Vivian, this is a tradition from my hometown. The bride has to get into the ring and wrestle one of the groomsmen for good luck. I asked Chloe to go up. Just play along for a minute." Looking at Chloe, who was always acting frail and sickly, I did not think much of it and stepped straight into the ring. But the next second, she threw an extremely professional spinning kick and knocked me unconscious with a severe concussion on the spot. When I woke up, I was paralyzed in a hospital bed. Derek stood there holding Chloe's hand and said to me, "Our relatives and friends gave us so much wedding money. The wedding can't go on without a bride. Chloe is willing to take care of me in your place. You're so kind, Vivian. You won't mind, right?" Under the torture of humiliation and severe depression, I pushed my wheelchair off the rooftop of our wedding home. When I opened my eyes again, I was back one month before the wedding. I turned around and knocked on the door of a national-level kickboxing champion training base. "Coach, if I trained for a month, can I punch someone's head open?"

My twin sister, Ruby Stone, and I split up after our parents' divorce. She stays with Mom, while I went with Dad. Since the divorce, he's sunk into a deep depression, gambling away every penny we have. We move into a dark, damp apartment, and life becomes an endless struggle. Every day, I go to school and quietly work a part-time job to keep us afloat. Then, out of nowhere, Ruby—whom I haven't heard from in forever—sends me a link to a live stream. "Check this out, Aria. There's a surprise waiting for you." I click it, and my jaw drops. I'm the one topping the trending live streams. The screen splits in two. On one side, I sit in my dingy apartment, hunched over homework under the dim light. On the other side, Mom and Dad cuddle with Ruby on the fancy couch of their sprawling villa. The comments came pouring in. "Let's see what happens when twins are raised on opposite sides of fortune all the way to 18." "Aria still doesn't know, right? Her parents never divorced. They're loaded and perfectly happy. Ruby's life has been like a dream too." "Poor Aria. She's always starving and never has anything decent to wear. Isn't that basically abuse?" "She's the more sensible one, so her parents decided to raise her poorly."

Caleb Da Stephano is the illegitimate son of the powerful Russ DA Stephano and grandson of Gus Da Stephano. After Caleb's companies gets taken from him as the heir by Gus Da Stephano following his reckless lifestyle, he is forced into depression which leads him to a one night stand with the woman he never imagined he would be seeing in his life again, talk more of sleeping with. His elementary school nemesis. After catching her boyfriend sleeping with her Co worker at their apartment while trying to make it to the hospital on time before her mother dies of cancer, Mabel Lora finds her life crumbling, leaving her numb, only to find solace at a bar, in an unknown part of the city where only the stinking rich belonged. She's saved from holligans by Caleb, subjecting them to a one night stand. Unknown to the two of them, fate had brought two enemies together once again for a purpose. He’s dangerous, addictive, and Her newest assignment. The future she desperately hopes for rests in the palm of his hands. Breathtakingly handsome and painfully private, he’s the sinner who killed a saint. That’s what the world sees when they catch a glimpse of Caleb Da Stephano. Her job is to understand him. His goal is to break her. Only one of their hearts will survive. Let the cruel games begin.