Diary Of An Oxygen Thief Novels & Stories

I turned, and walked towards the emergency exit, needing air, needing to escape the suffocating weight of my own failures. The emergency stairwell reeked of smoke. I was by the window, a dark silhouette against the swirling snow. The window was wide open, the biting wind whipping through the space, carrying icy particles. My shirt was unbuttoned, the collar torn, a thin layer of snow dusting my shoulders. The smoke from his cigarette curled around my face, making me look like a ghost. Xavier followed me. "Brother, have you found out who forged the diary?" I took a long drag, the nicotine burning my lungs. Then, I looked at him.

Meh, right? Then there was the diary. Meg’s diary. I’d found it by accident one day while cleaning. I didn’t read much, just a few lines, but they’ve stuck with me. She wrote about pain, about betrayal, about things that didn’t make sense at the time. She talked about how she wished she could just end her miserable omega existence and how she missed her best friend Jax and her world, Red was too weak.

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 could hear footsteps echoing faintly down the corridor. Scheduled. Not hurried. Not searching. Just… moving. My heart thumped painfully. I shoved the diary back into the oilcloth and scanned the room. My eyes snagged on the vent above the fireplace. Loose screws. Recently disturbed. Of course. I climbed onto the hearth, clumsy fingers loosening the grate, sliding the journal into the narrow duct. I took a step back and looked around the room. Nothing looked changed. Nothing betrayed my trespass. Which meant the danger hadn’t arrived with me. It had been here. Waiting. Always waiting.

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.

"The—the locket is a prototype. High-spectrum interference is common. The digital logs are the only—" "Be quiet, Julian." Damian doesn't raise his voice. It’s a flat, cold line of sound that shears through the doctor’s panic. I try to draw a breath, but the air has turned to lead. It’s not terror—it’s physics. The oxygen in the room is vanishing, siphoned out by a vacuum I can’t see. My lungs expand, straining against the silk of my robe, pulling in nothing but the sharp, metallic sting of ozone. It’s the smell of a lightning strike a second before the bolt hits.

Second page had another small nore ," Hey dear diary , you know what I am really lazy but i still wanted to wrie down some important things and moments i wanna remeber so i am not gonna talk to you daily . I will talk to you only when i have beans to spill . Otherwise my life is boring you won't be interested at all ,Don't mind . Cynthia smiled reading the note she suspected whoever this Natasha is she is really kinda funny . Cynthia then turned to page 3 , there was still no daily update it was another small note actually kinda big . "Okay I was just about to pack you up , but then I thought I should introduce you to myself . My name is Natasha warraich . I know you saw it on the first pag

Whitmore stands gaping at my diary. "Oh, wow! I didn't know you were a fan of Miss.OG, Ms. Sanders." He said turning the pages and reading my oh-so-difficulty collected handiwork. I sighed in relief. Good, the jerk hasn't figured it out yet. So I decided to play along. "Yes Sir. I'm a really big fan of hers. Well, you know hormonal teenagers, exam and college stress and all that..." I trailed off, laughing nervously. He frowned, thinking. And I took the opportunity to grab a hold of my diary and make a run for it. I snatched the diary from his hands and turned tail.

A very elegant design covered the book cover and the words written on the first page filled my heart with nostalgia and longlines. "Personal diary of Aurora Sapphire Brown" Flipping through the pages of the diary at once my eyes saw how her handwriting changed from a kid to an adult...as the dates and years passed with a flip my hand stopped on her last entry ...... Date 27th Feb Time :2 am I can't sleep again ... The medicines are of no use when his eyes haunt my nights... Those cold eyes were again looking at me with hate... Hate is nothing new. I am used to it now...but his hate matters

He quickly cleared his throat. “I am in the bathroom.” The other person was about to open when they heard his voice. “Sorry sir I didn’t know it was occupied.” It was one of the junior workers and his voice was shaking from fear. I was relieved my momentum was distu…….. I didn’t finish that as his finger went deep inside. He was not even scared we were almost caught. “How are you calm?” “They are called stolen moments for this reason. The adrenaline, the zeal and anticipation should feel like this.”