Fix Me Ten Years Novels & Stories

"I will go first, then you guys tell yours next." Seeing no reply, he directed his gaze at Salvador. "Agreed?" "Hmmm...." Salvador hummed. "Then where do I start from." He leaned into his chair, and with a reminiscing look, he started. "my name is Ten, you can call her Emma. We arrived at Gehinnom nine years ago–" "Eleven." His companion rolled her eyes at his stupidness. "I knew you kept count." Ten ha-ad. Then continued. "Like she said, eleven years ago. On a military expenditure."

Her marked tits, clamped-red nipples, dripping holes, and tear-streaked face, all of it mine. “Five years, Rosa. Five years, and you’re still exactly the same,” I whispered.

The message ends everything. I stare at my phone. The screen does not change. The words stay where they are. I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. Ten years. Ten years of choosing him. Ten years of waiting. Ten years of believing love was enough. My fingers shake. I read it again. Then again. As if the meaning will soften. As if the words will apologize. They don’t. “This isn’t funny,” I whisper, though I know no one is joking.

The lines of words on the screen were like poisonous needles that jabbed straight into my eyes, making them hurt. To think that I had been the homewrecker all this time and ruined someone else's relationship for ten whole years. Ten. The best ten years of my life—from when I was 17 until I was 27—had all been spent on Vincenzo. And, as it turned out, I never even got a formal title out of it. How pathetic. The pain from my legs and the suffocating feeling in my chest suddenly surged tenfold. I couldn't remain calm any longer.

Moving to America had always been my ultimate goal in life. Ever since I was fifteen, when my high school bestie and I had constructed a detailed ten-year plan, mapping out everything from our university courses to our apartment's precise address just five minutes from Broadway, I had known that this was what I wanted to do with the one life I'd been blessed with. And from the moment Rebecca and I had come up with a catchy 'American Dream' jingle in the ninth grade, I'd been determined that nothing could get in the way of me getting to the Big Apple.

When Nathan saw my face, he looked stunned. "Vivian Warner, what are you doing here?" he demanded. I lowered my head to apologize to the server and explained, "I came here looking for someone." Someone curiously asked Nathan, "Do you know her, Mr. Finch?" Nathan's grip tightened on his wine glass, his expression growing somber. "Yes, just an ex-girlfriend." Someone nearby said thoughtlessly, "You two were together for ten years. I thought you were each other's first love."

Trusting you again Leaving the pains Why not getting it back in return Why am I always in the fault? Why Me? THE END

"Mark, ten years. Every damn second of those ten years—when didn't she love you? Tell me that. How do you even deserve—how do you deserve someone like Jenna loving you that long?" She didn't wait for an answer. Just shoved him out of the bar. Outside, the neon lights hit like prison bars—sharp, cold, and closing in. He couldn't even see his love anymore. That's when it hit him. Ten years married, and not once had he really talked to Jenna. Not once. Every moment was her trying not to upset him. Her breaking down behind a locked door so he wouldn't hear her cry. Mandy's voice wouldn't stop ringing in his head.

I am no one's but his father's boy. He gives his toy a look and she scrambles away. "Ho qualcosa per te. (I have something for you)." He smirks, trying to retrieve something from his drawer. "I also have something for you." "Really?" He pauses. "Okay, you go first." "Oggi sono esattamente dieci anni. (It is exactly ten years today)." Ten years since I started doing horrible things for him. Hell, I have been counting, waiting desperately for the tenth year. "Ricordi il nostro accordo? (You remember our deal?)" The deal was to let me and my sister go after ten years. I know better than to trust Vaughan's word but I'm prepared.

“Magnus, remember you promised me forever. You said you loved me. I literally did everything you wanted. Tell me, honey, is this a joke? It has to be, right?” I muttered with hopeful eyes and tried to get close to him, but his wife stepped in front of him and suddenly shoved me hard. My head hurt and felt like it was ripping apart. My vision blurred as my body fought to stay standing. “Magnus, please, you can't do this to me. Remember, it's been ten years. Please, Magnus.” I don't know how I found the strength, but I sprang to my feet, and just as I was about to reach the door—