Inside Her Novels & Stories

Gwen placed her hand on the handle. It was cold. Much colder than it should have been. She hesitated. Then turned it. The door opened. Gwen stepped inside. And stopped. She didn’t know what she expected to find. Old clothes, perhaps. Furniture. Boxes. Something boring. Instead… She found something else. Something she couldn’t immediately explain. Her eyes moved slowly across the room. There were shelves. Hundreds of them. Old books. Paintings. Photographs. Jewelry. Maps.

This time keeping his voice way too low so she wouldn’t listen to him. “Well, she is a modern-day witch. They evolved.” Irvin chuckled. “Here we are…!” She exclaimed opening a door. They both entered the room and it was dark. Only one dim light was lightening the whole place. A sort of metallic stretcher with no mattress type of bed was placed in the middle of the room. Except for the light and the stretcher, the room was pretty empty. She closed the door behind them and the light coming through the door got blocked, darkening the room more.

She opened a door inside me today, One I’ve kept welded shut for years and now that it’s open… I’m not sure I want it closed again. Because underneath all the control, all the ice, all the discipline, one truth curls itself into my bloodstream: She’s already becoming mine. Whether she realizes it or not.

She found her way to the rest room down the hall. She did her thing at the rest room and walked down the hall. She felt dizzy and leaned on the wall for a while. She then looked at the room before her. All the private room door look the sane except for the number on it. She came out from room 66 but she opened the door to room 69 since she is muddle headed at the moment. She walked into the room and was greeted by a strong smell of alcohol. She saw that she entered the wrong room and turned to go out but...

She didn’t say anything anymore and just followed me unto the living room. Yes, I had a twin sister and she died inside the prison. She is jailed after murdering multiple victims including her bestfriend. I also took medicine to do something but I was too late. It was too late when a doctor found out she has some multiple personalities in her. She is horribly sick and nobody even knows.

"Please yourself but I want to know why you came. There hasn't been a shortage of women has it ?" "No, but there has been a shortage of you." He turned his gaze up at her and smiled. "Now shall we get back to why you're here?Tiny?" She shook her head sideways , closed her eyes, and bit down on her bottom lip. It's like she has been infused with a drug that is taking over her body and mostly her senses. She shook her head again and opened her eyes. Her face met directly with his. "Are you on marijuana or something?" He chuckled.

She gave me a flirting smile, the same one that she passes to trap men to maintain her living standards. “Alessandro.” Her voice wavered, though she says it seductively. “What are you—” “Where is he?” I asked, my tone clipped, leaving no room for small talk. Her eyes darted behind her, the instinct of someone who knew storms were dangerous and already standing in one. She hesitated before stepping aside. “Inside.” The apartment was tight; it felt like signs of chaos. A half-filled bottle of whiskey was sitting on the table, surrounded by paper and bills.

"Alright. Don't worry. As long as I am here, you can do whatever you want." They headed for the private room Tammy had reserved, only to hear chaos inside. When they opened the door, Tammy was in the middle of a wild frenzy, tearing at her own clothes because of the heat and itching she felt. Several gang members circled her greedily, grabbing her however they pleased. They didn't care if this woman was the same one in the photo. They only cared about satisfying themselves. They laughed in a nasty way. "Hey, what's the big deal? You took the drug yourself. You want us to touch you, right?"

But because something inside her chest…deep and dormant for so long…tightened like a snare being pulled. She pressed her palm to her ribs. There was something beneath her skin. Calling.

A need. Her skin burned. Her thighs were soaked. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Something was calling her. Him. She rose, barefoot, in her thin shift, and padded down the corridor toward the forge. But it was empty. Except for the door. The one that had always been locked. Now slightly ajar. Heart hammering, she stepped inside. And there he was, naked. Not in sleep. In torment.