Freedom Writers Diary Book Novels & Stories

Not a day goes by that memories of that night don't threaten to overwhelm me, sending me back into the darkest place I tried to crawl out of twelve years ago and I want out of this. Out of everything. This goes on for weeks and stretches into months. One day after my daily journaling, I close the book slowly, running my bony fingers along the front of the leather-back journal I’d asked Damian to get one day. He still doesn’t know what it’s for. Maybe he’ll learn of it today. The engagement ring that doesn’t fit anymore goes first, deposited on the dresser in my room. The diary follows next. In no time, I discard my dress and shower, changing into a simple nightwear and facing the balcony whi

I crouched to pick it up again but my eyes landed on the bold font written on the front page. MY DIARY CRAZILY IN LOVE WITH MR CLINTON The sentence piqued my interest, and I knew it was wrong to invade her privacy by reading her diary, but I couldn't help it when my name was boldly written on her diary, practically as the title. I sat on her bed, ready to discover the content of her diary.

The room grew quiet. “I made mistakes,” I said softly. “Big ones. I lost my way. I lost people. I let fear control me. And for a long time, I thought that was it—my story was over before it even began. But then something changed. I stopped running from the past and started writing about it. And in doing that, I found something I didn’t expect—freedom.” I paused, scanning the sea of faces. Some nodded, others leaned forward, their eyes wide.

Life-altering. The second was from a New York publishing house. They had read her UN speech. They had followed her interviews. And now, they wanted her story—raw, unfiltered, written in her own voice. Her memoir. Not as a product or campaign piece, but as an act of truth-telling. No ghostwriter. No one else’s words. Just hers. Just everything she had been too afraid to say before.

Sera’s P.O.V I divorced Mark. The moment I received the divorce certificate, I let out a long sigh of relief. Mark looked a little dazed as if he wanted to say something to me, but I ignored him and brushed past without a word. At that moment, I was free. Free from following his orders. Free from rushing home every evening to prepare his favorite dinner. I once pretended to live a happy life, but maintaining that happiness was solely my effort—an effort he took for granted. He never learned to cherish it.

No one's pulling this over on me! He floored the gas, pushing the car to 120 mph. I saw his palms sweat, his teeth biting his lip, his hands shaking unconsciously. He was scared, but there was still hope in him. I wished I could just tell Quentin it was all pointless. There was no need for hope because I was already gone. When they took my body out of the morgue's freezer, I couldn't bring myself to look. Even though it had been kept cold, my body had started to swell and decay after all this time.

That was the secret spot where real Doms played rough. That Friday evening, after work, I drove down to the shady warehouse area. Hands shaking, I parked, and steeled myself to walk up to that door. Bouncer, checked my ID, scanned me and let me in. Sweat, cum, leather and several strange smells fill the air, but all of them dim lights shining over cages, crosses, and people dressed while other walked around naked. Somewhere there are whips cracking, and moans filled the air. I shouldn't be here, but I stepped on.

"I didn't expect you to be so devoted. If that's the case, I'll grant you your wish." Even though he was reluctant, Theodore followed my decision. A few days later, Jessica was released from prison. Joseph embraced her tightly with tears in his eyes. "Jess, this time, we can finally be together. We can do it openly and freely." In the car, watching as the two of them embraced affectionately, Theodore glanced at me and asked, "Are you trying to be some benevolent saint?" I teased the baby in my arms as I smiled faintly. "Not really. I'm just curious whether they'll actually be happy now that they've gotten what they wanted."

Whenever the thought crossed my mind, Derrick's face would involuntarily surface, making me sick to my stomach. Though I had moved and started my shop alone, I had the enthusiastic locals who had helped me with each step along the way to thank. I took a deep breath. This was the smell of freedom. My past self must have been out of her mind. Just as I finished getting everything ready, Crystal called. "Derrick is such a pain! He refuses to sign the papers, no matter what. I've spent an entire month trying to make him give in. But he simply won't listen to reason, and his words are plain vile! How did you put up with him for so many years?"

I don't want Lucian, and I don't want anyone to decide how a white wolf like me should live. Now, I finally did it. I didn't become someone else's mirror image. I didn't stay trapped in a story written for me. I followed the wind into a life I chose. The wind proved that freedom wasn't losing the ability to love. In fact, it was the exact opposite. It was becoming yourself first and then still finding the courage to give your love away.