Novel & Cerita Diary Of An Oxygen Thief Kindle

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.

She doesn't even get a chance to open her bag or write in her diary before the lecturer screams at them to open their books. So, she takes her favourite therapy method and disguises it inside her book. She randomly starts doodling. There are so many things to write. Dear Diary… The way he looked at her last night. He genuinely stared. And the things he said. She starts scratching his name again. Over and over, filling the margin until the ink runs thick. D.O.R.I.A.N Then, the glowing eyes… The way he could track her pulse… There’s the enemy complication. So many intricate puzzles to solve. So little time.

He’s so easy to manipulate when he’s nostalgic. Day 12: She’s getting suspicious. I need to ramp up the symptoms. Fainting spell tomorrow? My hands shook as I turned the pages. It was all there. The calculation. The malice. But a diary could be dismissed as venting or fiction. Elise could claim she was writing a novel. I needed something physical. Something medical. I put the diary back and turned to the nightstand. The three pill bottles were there. Digoxin. Warfarin. Furosemide.

Enjoy the journey ............. Emily POv : I was rearranging my cupboard, sorting through the piles of clothes and forgotten items, my fingers brushed against something unexpected—a diary. My diary. I paused, feeling a rush of memories flood back at the sight of the worn, weathered cover. It had been so long since I last laid eyes on it, tucked away amidst the clutter of my belongings. With curiosity, I retrieved the diary from its hiding place, feeling the weight of years past in my hands. As I flipped through its pages, the familiar scrawl of my own handwriting greeted me, each entry a window into moments long gone but not forgotten.

“Oh, I think it’s hilarious. Who knew little Miss Perfect had so many juicy secrets?” “You… you read it?” Tiffany gasped, her stomach churning. She felt dizzy, like the ground was tilting beneath her feet. Jacob’s eyebrows waggled suggestively. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Wanna find out?” Tiffany’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “Stop it! Just give it back, please!” “Come on, Tiff,” Jacob teased, holding the diary tantalizingly close before snatching it away again. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

He flipped the page and caressed her beautiful handwriting before starting to read it. (Hello, my new diary, it's the first page of yours and I have something very interesting to share with you. I know you would have already guessed that it is related to my hottie biker. Today in the morning, I stole Cole's shirt. I think I'm going to become his personal thief.) He chuckled after reading the last line.

I shrieked, the towel clutched tighter to my chest. He turned slowly, a book in his hand. My stomach dropped. It wasn’t just a book. It was my diary. The one with the cheap floral cover, the one I’d hidden beneath a pile of sweaters in my bottom drawer. I took it out last night and forgot to return it back there. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked from my face to the diary, then back again. A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips.

My throat burned. I grabbed a half-filled bottle of water I had left on my desk and gulped it down at once. The feeling came again, rumbling down in my stomach. I couldn’t tell if this was pregnancy-induced or the pool of blood that kept flashing back to my mind. I got to the bathroom before I let it out. The sink was covered in my puke. I ran water over my face. I dragged in air slowly as I walked back to the office. A diary caught my eye as I packed every file and document back into the drawers. Pink colored thick-covered diary. This must have belonged to Victoria.

" Ethan said, but made no move to pick up the underwear. In fact, neither did I nor Felix. We only stared at the little black box, and the books that also fell out. Felix exchanged a look with me. "No." I said, knowing that he wanted us to snoop. "Oh come on, what if it shows like all the women he targeted?" Felix took up one of the book. "Holy shit." He said, then showed me what he was looking at. The first two pages were nothing but my face. The following pages were like diary entries.

My throat tightens. Diary. She said Nadia kept a diary. What if it’s here? I glance quickly out the window—Yasmin is still inside the building, talking to someone at the reception desk. My heart starts racing. Don’t do it. Just wait. …but what if I never get another chance? I swallow hard and lean forward, opening the glove compartment with shaky fingers. Papers. Receipts. A flashlight. Then—at the very back—a worn, soft-covered journal. Old, edges frayed, like it’s been opened a thousand times.