Fractured Novelas e Histórias

My Grandma died some few years ago but not after telling me everything I have to know, not after leaving a great burden on my shoulders. It was after her death that I decided to relocate. Thea tried all her best to let me stay but I told her I had to leave for my own good. I know that it is bad and very coward of me to always relocate when I am betrayed. I know I should learn to face my demons but what can a broken person really do? What good can ever come out of a broken Pieces of heart? Thea even insisted to follow me here too but I immediately turned her down and explained things clearly to her and she eventually understood.

He told me he loves me every much even tho am broken, be said, he will protect me and my child so I trust him. Lucas didn't say much but listened as she told her story. Am sorry you and your daughter have to go through that nightmare. Now that your reunited with your daughter Amy, she will have a fatherly and motherly love that she has been craving.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” “I don’t know that. You say you aren’t going to hurt me, but the way you act sometimes hurts me. One day you treat me like you want me. Then the next you’re telling people I don’t mean anything to you. That we are only friends. I can’t take that. Not from you. I’m already broken, Dmitry. But you the power to shatter me.” His eyebrows wrinkled together. “Dani. For days now, I have been trying to tell you how I feel.”

Woods were buzzing—like, really alive. That weird hush after the rain, when every leaf and critter decides to make noise just to mess with your nerves. Drew slipped around, shadows clinging to him, and honestly? He looked like someone who’d lost a fight with his own nightmares. Ever since that Blackfang ceremony blew up in his face, the dude was wrecked. Couldn’t get his head on straight, feelings ricocheting all over. But deep down, something old—something stubborn as hell—kept poking him. Like a splinter you can’t dig out.

The boys gaped at me as if I had uttered some gibberish. “What’s a hairline fracture? I haven’t hurt my head or hair, Mom!” protested Adrian while the other two rolled with laughter. “Aunt Andy needs to rest her brain!” laughed Zane. “Have you been overworking, mom?” asked Zayden. “Stop! I’m serious, boys! A hairline fracture doesn’t involve the head or hair despite the name. It’s a tiny crack in the bone, as thin as a strand of hair.” “Oh! It sounds scary, Aunt Andy. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Addie until he’s better!” said Angel, dragging her brothers out of the room.

His eyes were fixed on the glass he’s holding, it’s almost as if he’s watching the liquor dance as he moves it. “Of course I was mad. A part of me resented her because she betrayed me for another man. She made me question my worth, she hurt me in ways no one could,” His jaw clenched harshly. “But I can’t do anything about it, Ellyse. Love will never be enough if trust is broken. Maybe a part of me wanted her to beg, to tell me that it was only a mistake she’ll never commit again. But she didn’t. And that in itself already spoke volumes to me,” Riden placed his glass down, clasped his fingers together before looking at her.

His hand hit the glass, not with the power of all his might, but with a hard, sharp snap. The glass didn't shatter into a thousand pieces. Instead, it was sliced by a jagged, one-way crack across its front, dividing his image in half and cutting his face in two. A spider's web of finer cracks sprang from the point of impact, creating a dozen twisted, fractured duplicates of himself that stared back at him with horror.

She hissed when her left arm bumped against the deck. "Looks like it's broken," Kayden said and Ben nodded grimly. "It's a spiral fracture," Ben said. He'd seen a few of these growing up in the foster care houses he ended up in. The limb looked swollen and red and the bruise from a hand's overly tight grip could be clearly seen on it.

“God, Georgia, I want to believe you so badly. But you keep giving me reasons not to.” Her face crumpled, pain filling her eyes. And the moment the words left me, I hated myself more than I ever thought possible. Georgia’s voice cracked through the glass, broken and raw. “If you can’t believe me, Henry… then who will?”

He straightened slowly, ash flecking his shoulders. “Whatever you’re doing,” he said hoarsely, “keep doing it.” “Working on it,” I muttered. I tested another idea on a different chain, the one snapping toward Jax. Split. The word flashed through my mind, through the pen, into the metal’s path. A fault line raced down its length. The instant Jax’s pipe connected, the chain fractured along that hairline crack. Each half veered off, whipping past him instead of around him. One clipped his shoulder hard enough to spin him sideways; he cursed but stayed upright.