Novel & Cerita Diary Of An Oxygen Thief Author

I asked no one in particular but the dusty jewelleries stared back at me giving me my answer. I turned to move but my leg hit the vanity drawer and I heard a small plop, “Ouch!” I winced in pain as I rubbed my toes, bending down to pick what had fallen, it was a book and it was dusty. Dusting it off made me cough repeatedly and I stared at the book turning the page open but every page as well was covered in dust although preserved. I dusted a few pages off and the crisp but clean handwriting stared back at me. I read the first page and Immediately closed it. It was Jonathan’s mom’s diary.I flipped through the book and realized that she had written a lot and even almost used up the book. I wa

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.

This is a record of what came after my end, of the choices I’ve made, and the ones I couldn’t escape. I am not writing to be remembered. I am writing to remember. This isn’t just a diary. It’s a map. A warning. A confession. Maybe, in these pages, you’ll find a piece of yourself — or maybe you’ll realize something has been watching you, too. Either way, the moment you opened this… You stepped into my world. And once you're in, there's no going back. With silence between the heartbeats, —Cullen

UNKNOWN POV DEAR DIARY, She grows beautiful each and every passing day. It was just yesterday she was a child, and now she has tits and curves in all the right places. I stare at her through this broken mirror, I see her every step, her every move… I feel pain when she’s happy, and I relish in the joy her sadness brings me. She is mine, Diary. Mineee! Oh, it won’t be long now…

I never wanted to see this box again. Why am I here? Why did this force bring me here? "Let me out. Let me out." I hear that voice again. I'm still not in control of my body. I watch my hands grab the box. My mom sealed it with a spell only she can undo but somehow as I grab it, it clicks open and all the magic that was sealed in there finds it's way inside of me. It passes through my nostrils, my ears, my mouth and I feel it rushing through my veins. Oh no. What have I done?

Zane's brows furrowed, and he dropped the pictures on the passenger seat, taking out what felt like a book. In the low garage light seeping through the windows, Zane saw it really was a book when he took it out. A white leather book. The cover was browned at the edges, like someone had thrown it in a fire and yanked it out in just in time before he began to burn. Deep grooves appeared between his brows as he opened it, but the words scribbled on the first page just made his blood run cold. --Dear Diary, it's Victoria. Zane's knuckles whitened around the book, and he slammed it down hard against the steering wheel, as fire surged inside him.

Sweat gathered at my temples and Cobwebs clung to my sleeves. The air smelled of cardboard and time. I pushed aside old picture frames, college notebooks, and broken electronics. “Where is it?” I whispered to myself. Box after box, I searched. My fingers were sore and my back ached but then I found it. A navy-blue leather cover…Worn at the corners. The pages sticking out a little from the sides. My diary. I sat on the cold floor, back against the wall, and opened the first page. It was mostly silly things at first.

It is her childhood diary. I page through the book as my eyes skip over entries about her daily chores and her quiet observations of our family. Then, my heart stops when I saw the date of the warehouse fire from our youth. I read the ink words. The diary say, ‘Leandro was unconscious under the heavy wooden beam. I tried to lift it with my bare hands, but the skin on my palms began to blister from the heat. I found a rusted iron pipe on the floor near the brick wall, using the pipe as a lever. I pushed down with all my weight until the beam shifted off his legs.

As for where she went, no one knew. Meanwhile, Philip returned to the hotel. Laurie and Dion were practicing, so Philip did not disturb them. He returned to the room and found that the female thief was writing something. Philip approached her and could not help his mouth from twitching after taking a look. This thief was actually writing a diary, full of thoughts on how to kill him. The entries were very detailed with many methods and backup plans. “This person is a genius.” Philip could not help praising before ignoring her. “Are you looking down on me? I’m telling you, if you don't let me go, I’ll definitely kill you! You’ll regret your decision!”

My first memoir in a new diary. My old diary was filled with stories and stories of girls I've fucked and turned but after this incident that happened on 23/4/2027 I had to start a new diary. So... I was angry that mum was remarrying. I really hate the thought that she couldn't keep her pussy at check after dad's death and jumped into another man's arms. However, she kept reassuring me that it's going to be fine but I hate it as hell.