My Fault Book Series Novels & Stories

Mike My phone hasn't stopped ringing. I knew it was my father he'd insisted we come here, and here's the result. I didn't want to come. I'd rather stay in a nice bar, drink in good company, not find myself trapped in this farce. I have a bad feeling. I pick up. — What have you done now? — Why is it always me who has to mess up? It's not my fault this time. — It's always the same old story! You're going to fix your mess.

- Alice added, with a clearly worried face expression. - Sorry... I should have thought about that.- Selene replied, guilt written all over her face. - It's not your fault. I know one of them killed your father, you thought about it all the time.- Alice comforted Selene, stroking her back. - Anyway, if Damon hadn't arrived on time... Then we'd have come in vain.- Teresa remarked.

She couldn't complete her sentence. "It's not your fault babe. Don't push yourself hard. If there's someone to blame for everything, it was me. Everything started because of my infidelity. Now I am punished! Everything that I wanted is all taken to me slowly. You and Daniel are the only ones left but I could feel losing you both as well." Dwight bravely uttered. Accepting fault isn't easy to do. I'm glad he faces his fear and starting to conquer it. "No, it's not your fault. It was never been your fault." Alison tried to comfort him but Dwight this time is serious and man enough to stand up.

I didn’t want to believe it was my fault, it wasn’t my fault Rye got into the accident either, right? But the truth was, it was my fault my mother had to raise a child on her own when she was still a child, it was my fault my father didn’t want me and he abandoned her. It was my fault that Derek died, if only I had done something — anything. And today, it was my freaking fault that Rye was fighting for her life. My heart clenched as my fingers moved faster against my skin, the pain dulled my senses and thoughts.

This is all my fault. What have I done?

Ivan sighed, lifting his eyes to look at me one more time before signalling Leonid to go on. "There was an attack" he started his eyes moving to me which got me confused...was the attack my fault? "Where?" Ivan asked. "In New York" That was all it took to get my full attention. "You said this was bad...an attack in New York concerns us how?" Dante sounded so bored it scared the fuck out of me. How can he be so nonchalant? It may not be in Italy here but there was an attack nevertheless. "The attack was at Audrey's school library...A woman called Rachel" I released a loud gasp before I could even stop myself.

I was starting to think that this was all my fault after all. Being born without a wolf was my fault. Earning my father's hatred was my fault. Getting rejected by Derek was my fault. Getting raped by a stranger was my fault. Being banished and separated from my family was also my fault. Everything that happened to me was my fault. "My words were harsh?" Father scoffed, his brow dangerously raised as he stared at Malfoy's clenched fist. "You want to rebuke me?" Oh no, I don't like where this is going.

The way he talks about him and the way he looks at him is a sign of a man in love with another man. "I don't have sex with someone like you." Liam's hands curl into a fist. "My childhood was ruined because of you." "Correction, it was your fault. You released a serial killer, and you killed your best friend. You got yourself in jail and then met me." Devin explain. "I only made sure as your supporter and friend that it wasn't your fault."

It's not your fault Isabelle . "It is not my fault? I dragged you all into this mess." "It's not my fault? I dragged Aiden and Amelia into this, they got kidnapped. " "It's not my fault? I almost killed your sister Justin." "It's not my fault? So it isn't my fault that James took that bullet for Mre that evening?" It isn't my fault right then why am I the root cause of all of this? "Tell me, Justin. " "Why I ju… just want an answer "

“Yes. He is Xaulfur, the demon-obsessed. I’m Daymion, the Alpha.” “Then you both might have a few likenesses that make people think you are him.” I say it as if I am certain even when I somehow doubt myself. I have an absurd feeling that this younger brother is a psycho, lowlife scholar who spends most of his lifetime in libraries and local museums, or even shrines. “We have separate fathers, and…” the old man chuckles as his head drops, the very first time to see and hear him laugh. “I am much older. We are not alike in any way even. He might be the opposite of me.”