Everything I Never Told You A Novel Novels & Stories

All my stuff was still zipped up in my suitcase. Where on earth did all those come from? I had barely grabbed a shampoo bottle when Rosie's screech pierced the air from outside. She glared at me, fuming. "How dare you mess with my stuff! "Bennett went through all the trouble to bring these back for me from abroad." It hit me then—the shampoo in my hand was the same brand I had recently splurged on. My hair had been a greasy, split-ended mess before the wedding, so I had begged a friend to snag me that miracle bottle from overseas.

(Elisa’s POV) I loved how my life turned out. One minute, I was lying beside the road with a bullet wound from people I thought were my friends, and here I was living a life of crime and loving it. I looked at my watch, realizing how late I was to get to the restaurant, and said, “I have to go. I need to run the books for my bar and restaurant.” I turned to Lorenzo and asked, “Are you coming?” I asked since he had insisted on tagging along.

, I said, wishing that he would stop, “ look, I love you, so much, but I can't. I just can't” “ What do you mean you can't?” He asked, obviously confused, and I just felt sorry for him. I felt pity for him. He didn't understand, and he never will. The fact that my heart had been broken beyond repair, the fact that my mind and body would never allow me to become so vulnerable before anyone again, the fact that Hakim killed me, not with a sword or a gun, but with his eyes, and the fact that even though his hazel eyes looked nothing like those of Hakim, it still reminded me of him, of that day when he finally broke the spine of my heart, along with my ribs. He didn't understand, he never will u

I tell him. I consider what I want to start with to tell him and decide to start with the really bad so he can get out now if he wants, so I say, "I didn't recieve an honorable discharge from the military." "Why?" He asks in the same tone I did earlier. "When I tell you this, I want you to first know that I am ok, I still have some flashbacks about it, and there was a small amount of time in my life it had a very negative effect on me mentally. I don't want you to ask me my number of previous partners. I was raped while overseas. I didn't report it for 6 months because the guy who did it was 4 hours away on another base. I never thought I would have to see him again. Then I found out we were

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"That was because my mother died of an amniotic embolism. I didn't want a child. What does that have to do with you?" The words were barely out before he took a step back, his face white as paper. If this was how Lydia had read it, did that mean Vera had read it the same way? Then everything he'd done for Lydia these seven years, what had it looked like in Vera's eyes? Every time he'd let go of Vera's hand, how much pain had he caused her? He suddenly remembered the heartbroken look in my eyes the day those reports came to light, and for the first time he wanted to go back and slap himself awake.

The places I'd wanted to visit disappeared from my list. I stopped asking. There was no point reopening old wounds. So I told him the truth. "I've relocated. I'm not coming back." The silence on the other end lasted several seconds. "You... what? When? Elena, why didn't you tell me?" "I forgot." He let out a frustrated breath. "When did you become like this?" His voice grew tighter. "You used to text me all day. You'd send me pictures. You'd tell me every little thing that happened. And now? You disappeared. You blocked me. You left New York. And somehow, I'm the last person to find out."

Friends had been sending her the same link. She tapped it. Her eyes widened. Everything that happened at Randall's house was online. In the video, Elliot was sprawled on the ground, covered in marks, shaking so badly that it was visible even through the screen. She knew that look. That was one of his episodes. Olivia couldn't believe it. Telling the truth about her other life had led to this. She pushed Elliot's mom to her death and drove him deeper into his illness. "I'm sorry… I didn't know…"

Zariah Sleep never came. I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling while rain tapped against the windows of the safe house. Every time I closed my eyes, another piece of the puzzle appeared. My mother’s photograph. Gabriel’s smile. The journal. The flash drive. The distorted voice on the phone. The deeper we dug, the worse everything became. Every answer uncovered another lie, and every lie seemed connected to a past that refused to stay buried.

Pretending that one day he would wake up and realise that he loved me the way I loved him. But I was tired of pretending. I got up, wrapped the sheets around my naked body and walked outside the room, through the dark penthouse. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed Manhattan spread out like a galaxy below the forty-two-storey skyscraper apartment building. I found him on the balcony. He was smoking. My stomach dropped as my legs froze. In five years, I had never seen Steven Riorson smoke. Not once. He said he hated it. Said his father used to smoke, and the smell made him remember things he’d rather forget. Things he never went on to tell me.