Freedom Writers Diary Book Novels & Stories

Or maybe I’ll keep writing it here for now — in this little book where I can be honest in a way the world doesn’t always allow. But it’s real. And it’s mine. The phone buzzed again. Anthony: Did I scare you off? I smiled softly. Me: No. Just needed a cold shower. Anthony: Same. But I’d rather you be the one making me cold. Me: Goodnight, troublemaker. Anthony: Goodnight, angel. Dream of me. I closed the diary, holding it to my chest like it could absorb the heat inside me. And I knew right then that I’d never be the same again.

In a feeling. In them. In myself. --- So here it is. The final words of the diaries I thought were only for staying alive: We didn't win a war. We chose to lay down arms. We laid down our pain like weapons. We bridged over fear and there were hands waiting. We cried and then we laughed. Fell up. Hurt and healed. Not because we were heroes. But because we were willing. To stay. To unclench. To start again.

I paged through the book and began noting the church leaders' names in order of who I would assault first. "Dr Chucks" "Mr Kinsley" the minister, Leonard "Jeremiah, the pastor" Benedict the "pastor I put the paper with the list of goods inside the book I wrote the names in and shoved it beneath my cushion. I took out the dresses I'll be wearing today when I opened my wardrobe. I took out a miniskirt, white panties, a crop top, and a minijacket all at once. Yesterday, I asked about Dr Chuks during the sermon.

My first memoir in a new diary. My old diary was filled with stories and stories of girls I've fucked and turned but after this incident that happened on 23/4/2027 I had to start a new diary. So... I was angry that mum was remarrying. I really hate the thought that she couldn't keep her pussy at check after dad's death and jumped into another man's arms. However, she kept reassuring me that it's going to be fine but I hate it as hell.

A long while later, he finally said, "I didn't know that I signed that document then. I thought it was something else." "But you knew it was something I needed your signature for," Sarah said. "You just didn't care what it was." Larry went silent. Wolves and people were passing by on the street, and Sarah wasn't particularly interested in continuing with playing out their supposed "reunion" in public. She turned to leave, and Larry instinctively grabbed her wrist. However, he immediately let go a split second later. "Give me ten minutes," he said. "Just ten minutes." Sarah paused for two seconds. Ultimately, she still led him to the cafe at the corner.

Carmen never used to like diary books and thought that they were stupid, reminding you of the reality you want to escape from. Tears fell down her cheeks as she was reading it. 'As you are reading this, you perhaps already know that I left or I am on my way to the airport now. My plane flies at 10 pm. I don't honestly know where I am going and why. But always remember that I'll forever support you. We'll talk daily, please don't cry. I miss you already. Happy birthday again.' As she finished, a sound of a car was heard. Carmen rushed to her bedroom's window and stared outside. It was Liam!

Espyae? Pyramids? I only wrote about wanting to go to Espyae to see the pyramids in my diary. When I started writing about Harvey in my diary and paid attention to his every gesture, I instantly knew I might have developed feelings I shouldn't have. Since it was foolish to become enamored with the man who hated me, I burned my diary when I was 18. My dreams, too, turned into ashes, following the burning of my diary. That was why I thought no one would ever find out about it until this day. Oddly enough, Harvey actually knew about my dreams.

It was time to strip away every shield, every excuse I’d ever made for him, and speak from the deepest, rawest place inside myself. Taking a shaky breath, I opened the notebook and pressed the pen to the paper, feeling a surge of both dread and release. To the court, I wrote slowly, choosing each word with care. It wasn’t just a letter; it was my declaration of freedom from a man who had held me captive with fear and manipulation. I’d spent so much time keeping his sins buried, hiding them from the world, and in doing so, I’d hidden a piece of myself as well. But not anymore.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. Just some old notes. Private shit.” Private. Yeah right. The word only made my curiosity burn hotter, mixing with the ache in my cock that hadn’t gone down one bit. While he stood up to grab another bottle of whiskey from the bar cart across the room, I leaned forward quickly and clicked on the locked file. A password prompt popped up. Fuck. I tried the obvious ones fast,his book title, his name, the date on the manuscript. Nothing. Then on a hunch I typed in a phrase from one of his filthiest scenes. The file opened.

Darius's POV I just wish someone would pop out of nowhere and tell me that I wasn't like my father—that I was different. But even if they did, I knew they would be lying. They would just be sugarcoating it. My hands reached out, pulling the diary out from beneath the pillow. I flipped the pages, stopping when I reached the last page that was specifically written for me, and then I started rereading it, stopping at the word freedom. It was an essential, pardonable thing in everybody's life, and that was the reason Mom died—because hers was taken away from her by her once beloved husband.