Diario Novels & Stories

Dear Diary, I'm so sorry I didn't have time to write yesterday but trust me the wait was worth it. I didn't even get back to my dorm room until 4am and at that point I was in no state to write an entry. Honestly I still don't know exactly how to even begin to explain the rollercoaster that was the past two days. I mean last time I wrote everything was so much simpler than it is now. I mean I literally feel like a different person right now after kissing three different girls and yet I feel more scared than ever to come out. I'm sorry I'm getting a head of myself, let's start with yesterday before I spoil the whole story.

It was from the hospital. My perfect and careless Sunday had shattered with that one phone call. It was horrifying how one moment was all it took to make my previous worries seem insignificant. It was unbelievable. Hiro-san had tried his best to remain calm while relaying the news to us. Well, mostly to me. There had been an accident. A pretty bad one too. A T-junction. Hikaru-nii’s car and a truck. Those were all the points of information that my brain could take in.

I had my journal in my hand, somehow I felt a new need to hold on to it everywhere I went. I was with Damien, though I was bruised all over, it was easy to hide the pain. Besides, I was used to being flogged. We were talking about something that made me laugh so hard. It was actually a comedy skit we watched. I almost lost balance, my journal scattered on the ground. I was embarrassed, more embarrassed because the name "Annabelle Steele" was written boldly on its front page.

He said I hadn't been active due to work, so the first stop was a ten-mile hike in Ruiselle. Then he said November was perfect for snow, so we went to Svalmere and rode the Alpine Express. And for one last adventure, he picked camping in the Gravenwald Rainforest. But in the end, all I did was hold my tongue, give up my space, and keep my complaints to myself. At this moment, all my frustration burned out. There was no point in saying anything anymore. I said calmly, "Thank God I made it out." Then I kept walking back to the hotel.

A timeline. I could work with timelines.

Right here on this lovely platform. I will admit, this one is not as, how to put it? Sweet as Diaries of a Hybrid and Her Mate. Be warned, this story is far darker. Updates will resume shortly.

"Maybe this diary holds the key to uncovering more about my past." Sonia sat alone in her room, engrossed in the contents of Frank's diary and records spread out in front of her. With meticulous care, she arranged them in chronological order based on the dates inscribed on each page. Deeply curious, she decided to begin with the entry that coincided with her own birth year.

**David’s POV** Here in my New York apartment, as the relentless city rain echoes my mood, I find myself repeatedly drawn to the old, worn pages of Scarlet’s diary. This morning, the echoes of last night's indulgence weigh heavy, a migraine pulsing in the background as I numb it with the usual analgesic. But the diary demands attention once again. I flip to the last entry, a letter penned for me, her "Bumblebee," written in a moment of profound solitude and clarity.

He didn’t say much—just nodded when Vittorio barked orders. I found a side room. Empty. Quiet. Inside, a dusty bookshelf. Half-burned candles. A fur blanket. And a drawer. I opened it. Inside was a leather-bound journal. Old. Worn. The name was scribbled in faded black ink across the first page. Inside: a diary. Fiorella. My stomach twisted. I curled into bed with it. Lit the lamp low. Opened the first page.