Diary Of An Oxygen Thief Novels & Stories

I turned to him and a skinny schoolboy stood by the door, "he must be my doctor," I thought, I reached behind my trousers, to check for my pistol but it was of course not there. My memories were a little fuzzy, and my head was pounding. "I had to give you so much anastatic...maybe a little too much, because you kept waking up, and even though you wouldn't scream or show any sign of pain, it was weird how you kept staring at me, it felt as if you were threatening to kill me or something." He kept on talking and explaining and I just stood there staring at him. After a brief moment of silence, throughout which he appeared uncomfortable and ready to flee if I made any attempt of getting close t

She put her hand on the back of my head and gently rubs my head. "shh, it's okay. Take a deep breath and try to explain to me exactly what happened okay?" She says trying to comfort me. My eyes are burning from the salty tears and my head is spinning in panic but I try to calm down and explain everything to her. I tell her about last night. I tell her about the mirror and the eyes and the forest and the girl who looked just like me. I tell her I couldn't control my body. I try to convince her it wasn't my fault. I tell her about the safe and the box unlocking when only she knew the combination and the spell to disarm the box. I tell her everything.

My claws, furs, fangs and glowing eyes all retreat. Really surprising the doctor is innocent. The rouge ain't all worthless. I abandon him shivering and trembling on the floor. His stretched palm currently cover's and protects his face. I huff. Such hilarious defence shield he got. My attention turn towards the half dead fugitive. My claws against sprout. I misuse not waste not time. I plunge them into his skull. I gasp. My head tilts backwards. My lenses slowly hide under my lids. I venture into an unknown omegas mind.

I closed my eyes, trembling as tears escaped and fell into the food. "Happy birthday, Eleanor Shaw," I whispered to myself. "Keep moving forward—onward forever. Even if no one loves you, there's still light at the end of the tunnel. As Jeffrey said, you have enjoyed over 20 wonderful years of wealth and privilege. You've had it good." Just like that, I repeated words of comfort to myself as I wiped away my tears. I moved all my belongings that I had sorted out over the past two weeks in the living room.

*Brief Introduction. *Book name: Dynamic Diary of Tee. *Author name: Omah Susan. *Dedication This book is dedicated to all my loyal fans so far who had in one way or the other encouraged me. *AL RIGHTS RESERVED ® No part of this book should be republished or uploaded in any other website nor app without the author's consent. Be warned. This story is partially a true life story as it is a book. Also, the names of the characters are randomly selected and is entirely out of the blues.

When I turn eighteen and leave the orphanage, I can give them all to him at once. I hide the notebook in a crack between the cabinets and use a plastic ruler to retrieve it. I just got it out, but before I can hide it, Leya comes into the room. She's a normal girl and her butt isn't fat anymore; she's lost weight since we were ten. Leya doesn't know about the diary though, so I shove it under the mattress by the headboard and cover it with a pillow. Lucky, my talisman, sits next to my pillow. I know I can trust him.

Beside it was a mask—a delicate filigree of platinum that covered only the upper half of her face. She put it on. Looking in the mirror, she didn't see the woman who had planted a garden in Romania. She saw the woman who had outplayed the Architect. She saw a Panni. But as she reached for her earrings, she saw something else. On the nightstand sat a small, leather-bound book. She opened it. It was a diary, and on the first page, in a handwriting that made her blood turn to ice, were the words: The soul is the only thing worth stealing.

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.

She is mine. It was all there. The diary started when I was a teenager. This arrogant, tyrannical Mafia boss, my sworn enemy, had been secretly, almost pathologically, obsessed with me for years, like a worshipper at a twisted shrine. Just as I was reeling, the study door opened. Lorenzo stood in the doorway, his eyes full of a deep, dark despair. "Back again? Stealing my secrets for that man?" He gave a hollow, bitter laugh, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Daisy, my patience has a—"

He intently looked at me, "It's not easy to search for it. It may took you years to find one. I advised you to search for Talia. She lives in the woods of Texas. Do you have your things with you?" I know he's pertaining to the diary, pocket watch and the key. I looked at the floor as I shook my head, "No, I don't. The only thing I have is the watch and the key." "That's fine. Do you remember your last diary piece?" "I tried writing everything in a piece of paper. everything that happened to me, still noted though I don't have my diary with me..." I showed him the paper I was able to salvage along the way. He smiled, "Smart ass."