Diary Of An Oxygen Thief Novels & Stories

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.

There was a small popping noise, and the diary suddenly snapped open. “April 5, 368 AI,” a cool, female voice murmured and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The diary was floating in front of Jester, the pages turning along with the voice as if there was actually someone who was reading the entries aloud. Now, I am not someone who spooks easy, but I got shivers imagining that the ghost of the previous owner—instead of a spell, as Jester soon explained—was doing that.

Ronald just didn't want them to know it yet, he had everything planned for just the right moment. *In S.T.A.R Labs* Diana kept looking at the piece of paper, and she finally said," I have seen this paper before" "What?! Where?!", said Oliver. "It's a page from my diary!",said Diana. "Are you sure?!",asked Sam. Diana's cheek reddened as she said," Well, I write in it , everyday, so I am certain that this piece of paper is from my diary.My aunt had given it to me..... It has concealed writings, by which I mean.....that....you may write on this paper all you like, but you can conceal the main message! That's it! Light a fire!"

Stella–POV I tossed and turned; sleep eluded me. Frustrated, I sat up and made my way to retrieve the diary, hoping to find a way to unlock its secrets. I carefully pulled out the journal and, once again, attempted to open it using a hammer on the small lock. To my dismay, it remained stubbornly shut. Exhausted and defeated, I sank back, only to feel a hot trickle of blood from my nose— a telltale sign of stress. Scrambling to find a tissue box, I heard an unexpected click, and to my surprise, the lock popped open, triggered by a drop of blood.

" 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.

Jax pov I creep quietly in the darkness of the wealthy widow's estate. The moon shines at late night, casting its rays on the expansive garden. My heart races as I search for guards. My name is Jax, and I'm a thief looking for quick cash. The widow is currently unmarried, or so I think. Her husband died rich, and the estate is full of riches. I slip between the tall fence and proceed towards the back door. The lock is simple. I open it with my tools and push the door in softly. Silent in there.

It was a dangerous game, and I knew that the stakes were higher than ever. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across our secluded estate, I received an anonymous package. Inside was a small notebook, weathered and worn, with a note that read, "The truth lies within." Curiosity mingled with trepidation as I opened the notebook. The pages were filled with Cassandra's handwriting—ramblings, fragments of memories, and cryptic clues. It was her diary, a window into her tormented soul. As I delved deeper into the pages, the puzzle began to unravel. The truth of our shared past emerged, piece by piece, revealing a shocking revelation that threatened to shatter ev

“Oh, you guys are not going to believe this. Our little spy is a massive freak.” I adjusted my posture, holding the diary up to the ambient light of the limo. “‘If he pushed me against the bookshelves, I wouldn’t even fight back,’” I read, my voice dripping with dark amusement. “‘I want him to take control. I want him to rip this stupid sweater off me. I can practically feel his hands gripping my thighs, bruising my skin, pushing his huge dick inside my tight and wet aching pussy while he whispers my name…’”

It’s a diary. For several seconds, he simply stares at it. She forgot her diary? Carefully, he picks it up. The cover is worn around the edges, used often. Very often. Opening the front cover, his eyes drop to the first page. This diary belongs to: TROY SUMMERS Summers? He didn't even know her surname. Back then, it didn't matter. They were just two starving children trying to survive another winter. His thumb lingers over the page, then he shuts the diary immediately and sets it on the bedside table with force and intention.

“But it tells you where the bones are buried.” Silence settled. “He’s not just forcefully taking what he thinks I owe him in Naples, he also wanted to see how I think,” I continued. “How I grow. How do I protect? That warehouse wasn’t a vault. It was a diary.” “And diaries,” Diego muttered, “aren’t meant to be read.” I looked at Milo. “Any trace?” “None,” he said. “No alarms. No internal damage. No deletions. They copied everything and left.”