It's Tearing Me Apart Novels & Stories

I really can't leave– “I'm not okay, Kade,” she sobbed, her face still on my shoulder, her words muffled. “I'm not okay. I'm falling apart. All the emotions I've buried for years have burst out and it's tearing me apart. I don't want to fall apart, Kade. I don't want this pain. Please take it away. Help me from falling apart.”

Three years of loving someone who looked right through me. And for what? The sound that comes out of me doesn’t sound human. It’s animal, guttural, the kind of grief that lives in your bones and tears you apart from the inside out. I grab the mug—that stupid, thoughtful, devastating mug—and throw it against the wall. It shatters. Navy blue ceramic exploding into a hundred pieces, scattering across my floor like evidence of everything broken inside me. And I’m glad. Glad to see something outside myself destroyed. Glad to watch something else fall apart.

“You’re hurting yourself — and you’re hurting me!” The door rattled beneath his fist. The sound shot straight through me. “You don’t get to lecture me!” he roared. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a father trying to hold everything together!” “Maybe if you acted like one, I wouldn’t have to!” My voice cracked, tears burning at the corners of my eyes. I swallowed hard. I wouldn’t let them fall. Not now. Not like this. “You’re tearing us apart.” His voice faltered — cracking open long enough for fear to spill through.

He looked so happy and innocent. I reached towards the picture and rubbed it before I tore it off, proceeding to do the same to the others. Tears streamed down my eyes like a broken dam. Nothing made sense to me at the moment as I ripped those pictures off. I thought it would help me, but it didn't. My emotions felt like a raging storm, crashing on a lone boat in the sea, intent on sinking it. I thought tearing the pictures off would help me, but it didn't.

Tears streamed freely down my face, and no matter how hard I tried to stop them, they kept falling. "I had no choice! Do you honestly think what I did was easy for me? Do you think walking away from you didn't destroy me too? You weren't the only one suffering, you weren't the only one in pain. Every single day after I left you felt like torture. I was breaking apart too. I was hurting just as much as you were!" My voice cracked under the weight of my emotions. The frustration and heartbreak that I had carried for so long finally exploded out of me.

The isolation gnawed at my spirit, leaving me feeling as though I were slowly unraveling. The weight of my tears became a heavy burden, threatening to pull me further into the depths of my sorrow. It was a bittersweet release, a catharsis born out of despair. The tears held within them the echoes of my shattered dreams, the unspoken fears, and the longing for a sense of purpose and belonging.

My chest felt like it was splintering apart. “I don’t—” My voice cracked as I finally spoke, shaking my head hard. “I don’t understand any of this. I don’t even know what the hell is happening right now. All I know is—” My throat closed up, and the tears I’d been holding back finally spilled. “All I know is we can’t deal with this right now. So whatever the hell this is—” I waved at him, at Greg, at the wreck between them. “You need to fix it before it breaks her completely.”

He is crying, seeing how lifeless the man looks. "I-I-I-I'm so s-s-sorry. M-May your-r-rest in p-p-peace!" he cries out. Chris wipes away the tears. He stops looking at the dead man. He turns around and walks back to the car. He opens the passenger's side, sits down, and close the door. Brian notices that his partner is crying. "Come on, ginger! Man up!" he forcefully tells him. "You know you will not get away with this. Your actions will come back and bite you in the ass," he warns him.

Violet: The bond didn’t just break. It detonated. Pain tore through my chest like lightning ripping through bone, a violent, savage tearing that ripped the breath from my lungs. My scream echoed off the stone walls as the connection between Neal and I snapped completely, the force of it so brutal I felt something deep inside my soul fracture apart.

She turned and walked back toward her own pit, and she didn't look at the Skyline again, and she told herself the helmet meant nothing, that half the paddock had a black helmet with a mirrored visor, that she was the kind of person who saw what she wanted to see, and that was stupid, that was a coincidence, that was the kind of thing a person who was losing their mind would think. She got in her car. She started it. The turbo spooled with a sound like a sharp intake of breath, and she pulled out of her pit and onto the staging lane and she forgot about the Skyline and the boy and the helmet and the kiss, because in three minutes she was going to line up against a field of forty cars and she