Romans & histoires Diary Of An Oxygen Thief Author

Her diary. I felt around blindly, my fingers tracing the lines of an old, wooden chest. I found the catch and undid it. There, under a thin layer of dust, was a leather-bound book. Lira Mooncrest's diary. I grasped it firmly, a silent prayer on my lips. I caught the sound of a noise above me. The floorboards creaked. I remained motionless, my heart pounding in my chest. My name was spoken in a low, male voice, and then there were footsteps, slow and strained.

Her thighs trembled, the diary sliding to the floor, pages open and smeared with shaky ink. When she could finally breathe, she pulled the toy out, her body still quivering. She grabbed the diary with trembling hands, slammed it shut, and shoved it into her bag. “Never again,” she whispered to herself, cheeks burning. But she knew she was lying. --- The next afternoon, she sat in Professor Hayes’s office for her private session. The room smelled faintly of coffee and old books, his desk stacked with papers. He leaned against it while explaining a passage from Shakespeare, his deep voice filling the quiet space.

But, The ones above were harder to reach, forcing me to stretch, my fingers roaming blindly across the upper shelves. Suddenly, something solid brushed against my fingertips. Frowning, I pulled it free. It fell to the floor with a soft thud. A black diary falls right at my feet. Frowning, I picked it up out of curiosity. Its leather cover was worn, its pages yellowed with age. My heart skipped as I picked it up, and curiously opened to the first page... A date stared back at me— it was 27th August, 2005. “A twenty year old diary in the bathroom cabinet? What the hell?”

I just wanted to be around him, or maybe wish him good luck on his bike race. Just then, I found a book. It looked eerie, old, but then special. It wasn't dusty for the place where it was kept. I brought it out and swiped through it and noticed it was a diary. Why does he have a diary? But then, while I turned each page, I realized it wasn't Dimitri's diary. It was a girl's diary. She was heartbroken and sad. Then I went to the last page. The last few sentences sent shivers down my spine: "Chased after me. He wasn't just an ordinary guy. He was a secret underground lord." I shut the book immediately in fright. What? Who would have read such a scary diary and used those words as their last pa

"No. We should apologize instead." We held each other and broke down in tears. Leonard was still in a critical stage. Meanwhile, the content of his diary was published on the Internet. The diary recorded every moment we had spent together. I sat on the bench outside the ICU, and my phone kept vibrating. "Liv, have you seen the news? Leonard's diary has gone viral on the Internet!" "Oh my God! You guys had such great memories together!" "He loves you so much…" I tapped on my phone. The topic at the top of the trending list read, "high school memories of Leonard Burton."

And there he was, Xavier, hoisting her up on his shoulders in her graduation gown, refusing to let her down. Her, clinging to his hair, half-laughing, half-scolding, "I like you, I like you, okay? Xavier, you're so boring!" Xavier, spinning her around, his laughter echoing under the camphor trees. Her screams of joy mixed with his. And then there was the diary. Tucked away in my office drawer. Filled with her thoughts, her dreams. And I, the man who supposedly mattered, wasn't even the protagonist. Yet, like a masochist, I’d memorized every single word.

However as I read on my heart started beating quickly once more. This document wasnt your typical one. It was a diary. The journal of Fiona. I felt my fingers shake as I turned the page and the words jumped out at me. I had a nagging feeling that I shouldnt be doing this that I shouldnt be reading these words and that dread was creeping under my skin. I couldnt stop though.

I blushed at his loving words. Moments later, Owen stormed into the room. He was all sweaty and out of breath. “Look what I found!” he said triumphantly, holding up an old journal. Then he realized I couldn’t see. “Oh, uh… It’s an old, worn journal. The leather binding is peeling off. It has pink flower stickers all over it,” he described. I recognized it instantly. “Oh yes, that’s Josie’s diary! She’s had it since she was a teenager. I often visited her at the orphanage after moving in with Owen’s family. She always kept it hidden in her sock drawer,” I said excitedly. “This should give us some answers!”

"The... The diary isn't Stacie's–" He leaned forward in intrigue and I felt motivated to keep talking. "–It belongs to Lucy. Everything that happened in the diary was Lucy writing about the things that Stacie and her friends did to her. They stole the diary from Lucy in high school and Stacie had it changed to be hers." Dorian was silent but the bewilderment in his eyes was evident. I knew that he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean to tell me that everything was a lie, and Stacie simply just wanted to frame you?"

I muttered as I ran toward my chambers, driven by a strange pull, a gut feeling that something was there waiting for me. In my room, I scanned my surroundings, something drawing me to a concealed compartment behind my bookshelf. I opened it, finding a small, worn book—a diary. My heart sank as I opened it, the words inside telling a dark, familiar story. This wasn’t just any diary; this was Luna Nora’s collection of secrets, a meticulous record of every vile act, every betrayal. The curses, the deaths, the machinations that had torn my family apart—it was all here.