Diary Of An Oxygen Thief Novels & Stories

It was a double-drawer compartment under the floor of his study. "Oscar's study! There's a double-drawer in the floor!" Olivia exclaimed. David and Olivia immediately rushed to Oscar's study. David pushed aside the heavy carpet and quickly located the mechanism to open the hidden compartment. Inside, they found several neatly folded documents, a small flash drive, and most surprisingly, an old diary belonging to Oscar. Olivia took the diary with trembling hands. On the first page, written in bold, was:

Watching the road below the way she watched everything, with the particular patience of someone who had learned a long time ago that threats rarely announced themselves. Caelith sat on the edge of the bed and talked. She started from the beginning. The dreams. The feeling on the street that first Wednesday. The black car and the chemical cloth and the ritual room with the candles that didn't flicker. The stranger who appeared and disappeared and submitted her essay and left her on a bench on a road nobody used. Zara, the courtyard, the blood deal. The journal. The friend she called at midnight who knew things she shouldn't have known from footnotes.

~Rose~ I had woken up to an empty apartment, still wearing my clothes from yesterday. I was stadning by the window with a cup of coffee in my hands, looking out over the city. The people were moving around beneath me, going to their destinations, and some, wondering what their destination was. How did my life take this turn? How did I go from making a living by stealing from people, to signing a contract, giving myself to a cold-hearted, gazilionare-CEO?

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.

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…

In a few minutes Biswa was fast asleep , joining Nisim in the other room in an early morning snoring spree. Reading needed silence. So I picked up the diary, pilfered the one remaining cigarette stick and the matchbox from Biswa’s pocket, quietly slid out of the room, picking up a torch (which was actually a handheld emergency lamp, good enough for reading somewhere outside), a lock and key made of iron (with the profound conviction that apparitions and other similar creatures don’t trouble you if you have some sort of iron stuff with you, and so I could chase them away with the help of the lock and key, if they treaded into our lawn) a mosquito coil to keep those genetically insolent creatu

When I'm satisfied with my resemblance, I yank open the door, walk through the hallway and whistle like it's just another ordinary day in paradise. When I observe that the walkway to my office is clear, I stop whistling, not wanting to draw attention to myself as I'm not in the chattering mood. I walk into my office and shut the door behind me, sighing, with relief, leaning my head against the door, thankful my tormentor had left. I walk towards my desk. "What the fuck!" I cry out as I stub my leg against something hard. I look down and my safe is wide open. Dropping to my knees I peer inside and it's empty.

Forced into a contract to rehabilitate her team's billionaire rival, elite sports therapist Karol Kensington finds herself trapped in a battle of desire with the ruthless Ciro Restrepo on his private island. But as late-night therapy sessions melt their mutual hatred into passion, Karol uncovers a deadly plot against her.

“Hate me all you want, little doll. It makes your pu**y taste sweeter.” He pulled me tighter against him. I could feel him pressing hard against me through his pants. My breath came faster. “Dante… this is wrong,” I whispered. “Wrong feels good, doesn’t it?” He turned my face to his and kissed me roughly. His tongue pushed into my mouth, claiming, demanding. I tried to pull back but he held my jaw and deepened the kiss until I was moaning into his mouth. When he broke the kiss, I was panting. He stood up, lifting me easily, and carried me to the wide leather couch. He laid me down and knelt between my legs, pushing the red dress up to my waist. “Look at these pretty p**nties,”

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!”