Five Years Of Broken Dreams Novel Novels & Stories

… Lying in bed, grief pressed down on me from every side. I racked my brain for ways to prove my innocence, but no thread led anywhere. I was sure my 23-year-old self was not capable of such a crime. But could I say the same for my 28-year-old self? No wonder the reflection I had seen in the mirror that morning had been disheveled and broken. Still, I couldn't just give up. I loved Alicia too much to watch our love vanish without a fight. Then, suddenly, an idea sparked—hire a private investigator.

Just empty air. And that feeling—God, that awful feeling—of falling. The rush of wind. The helplessness. The sharp pain that shot through my body as everything went dark. I woke up with a sharp gasp, my whole body jerking like I’d really landed on the floor. I sat straight up in bed, breathing hard, my chest rising and falling as if I’d sprinted miles. Sweat clung to my forehead, my hair sticking to my skin. Five years. Five whole years… and the nightmare still chased me like it was fresh. Like that night had been carved into my bones. The night where everything inside me broke apart. The night I lost everything I thought I had. Truly lost everything.

I gave up everything—my pack, my home, my so-called boyfriend—and hurled myself into the heart of fire. I trained. I bled. I burned. I became something monsters feared. And I swore on every ounce of dragon fire in my veins: No one would ever break me again. Not even him. * * * * * Presently, I was jolted awake from the nightmare that happened five years ago. “Sir? Your stop.” The bus jolted to a halt and I blinked awake, the past still hot on my skin. “Yeah... thanks,” I muttered. Twelve hours until I saw them all again.

Was the reason I came into this world to feel pain and nothing else? I reached out to my pillow and stared at the title of the book. Tell Me Your Dreams… Dreams? I dreamt that I was mated to someone who would save me. There was no point in holding on to Chad. Apparently, he didn’t want me because I was a traitor’s daughter. Oh, and I wished that I wasn’t the traitor’s daughter. Was that too much to ask?

The moon hung full and bright above the forest. Her chest ached. Her life had been full—warm, fierce, loved. Dave. Sandra. Morgan. Ben. Eve. A family forged in blood and loyalty. Now everything felt hollow. “Why?” she whispered to the moon. “Why rewrite me?” Images slammed into her mind—blood on grass, bodies sprawled, Joy and another figure standing over them with syringes gleaming white. Bella staggered, gripping a tree for balance. A sound snapped her to attention.

⸻ Every dream needed one. ⸻ Without endings… Nothing had meaning. 💔 ⸻ Yet she couldn’t accept it. ⸻ She loved the dream too much. ⸻ She loved everyone too much. ⸻ She couldn’t let them disappear. ⸻ 🌙 The First Theft The memory shattered. 💥 ⸻ Back in the library… Nyra looked down at the black book. 📖🖤 ⸻ Then finally admitted the truth. ⸻

I tightened my grip on Papa's hand as I said slowly, "I had a dream once where I was shut inside a dumpster. I could only figure out how many days had passed by watching the light filter through the crack in the lid. I was actually locked in there for five days." I shook my head as I choked back my tears and continued, "I went without water for five days, to the point where rats started eating me alive. I was forced to kneel under the blistering sun when they finally let me out. "I absolutely despised them in the dream, but as I was dying, my only regret besides not getting revenge was that I couldn't see you again, Papa." I had no idea when I started crying, but by then, my tears had alread

Let the dreams rot in the dark without you. But the jar was still full. Because I hadn’t taken more. Because part of me was still waiting, wasn’t it? Still wondering. Still listening for footsteps in the corridor, even as I cursed the idea of them. “Stupid,” I whispered to the dark. “I told them I wouldn’t be theirs. And now look at me.” Still wanting. Still breaking. Still hoping, somewhere deep beneath the rot, that someone might break the rules to reach me. But none of them would.

Alone with the ghost of a five-year-old boy whose nightmare was now front-page news. The one person I had let in had broken me. And I did not know if I could ever be put back together again.

With only a chuckle, I wave him off, “Yes, I know. Chasing a new dream again, or should I say my destiny.” He looks at me with very sincere eyes, “Why does it seem that they are all broken. Where do you find yourself going this time?” I glance over to Tyler that is busy filling up the car, “Taking the broken man where he really wants to be.” “So he is still broken?” “I think I might have just broken him more than he was before.” “But,” he points to my belly, “There is hope at least.” “Yes, let us just hope that it is enough.”