My Struggle Series Novels & Stories

Someone was actually strangling me. I fought. Bucked my hips, twisted my body, tried to scream but nothing came out. Just a strangled wheeze. They were too strong. Rough, strong hands only tightened as I struggled. My hands clawed at their arms, nails digging into fabric, into skin. I thrashed harder, desperate, primal. Someone had to hear. Someone had to— My vision started spotting. Black creeping in from the edges. No. Not like this. I wouldn't die like this.

I stumbled to the basin, my reflection in the mirror showing the raw struggle on my face. You get the feeling when you’re being strangled so hard that you could feel your lungs tightening? My chest felt tight, and my breath came in ragged gasps. I clawed at my chest hard, struggling to tear off my top, struggling to breathe. Tears streamed down my face, but I couldn’t seem to cry properly. Why would he do this? Was I that useless? How come he never showed me that side of him, stupid. stupid Lexie. stupid girl.

he stammered, struggling to get words out of his mouth. I could see the internal struggles within him and I hated to see him like this, a helpless mess just like I was. I really wished I could help him get out of this situation, but I was still grappling to figure out what this situation even was… But I didn't want neither of us to give up the fight. Whoever did this to us, needed to pay for it! We struggled to gain control of our bodies again, our breathing uneven as I pushed myself against the opposite wall, desperate to get away.

He jumped on top of me and began attempting to take off my blood-stained hoodie, saying, “Struggle will only make it exciting for me.” I cried out, “No, help. Please don’t do this. I beg you. Please.” My tears intensified when he shoved me to the ground. He chuckled, standing there nude, “Believe me, love, you’re going to beg me to fuck you.” He sprang up upon me and seized my constrained hands in his. I cried and struggled, but no one helped. I could feel my consciousness and strength slipping. A growl rang around the room.

“Perhaps the reason that you are choosing a book to read is because you are full of walking metaphors and controversies, who could have been a better candidate?’’ my subconscious whispered and I shut it down to enjoy my peaceful moment. I closed my eyes as I let the cool wind to brush my face. “I don’t want to be someone’s extra, I want to be the main character in my life,’’ I whispered to myself. Someone grabbed my collar from the back and began strangling me. I struggled to breath as they tried to drug me with my collar. “ Wh- what, uuuh—auh-- , I struggled to talk as the grip grew tighter.

I feel the dirt coating my lips, as my head is shoved into the ground. My ponytail now resembling some kind of bird nest. Decorated with leaves, sticks and god knows what else. I close my eyes, attempting to protect them. My head aches, as the pressure builds. His arm pushing down on the back of my neck. I wiggle and struggle under his hold. Thrashing around like a fish out of water. As I struggle all I can think about, is that man struggling as I strangled him. Stray tears fall down my check. As I bite my cheek trying to divert the pain. I try to get free, but it’s no use. I begin to pant, as I struggle to breath. Having my head buried in the dirt restricted the air flow enough as it was.

Our bodies were intertwined as we struggled to survive in a violent dance of conflict. Our bodies tangled as we struggled frantically. He was a big guy so fighting and struggling with him was not easy, it seemed to me like he wasn’t putting up enough resistance because he hadn’t made an effort to strike me and I knew that if he was able to get one strike in I was definitely a goner. My blood was racing with adrenaline, which gave me the motivation I needed. I resisted the darkness's attempt to engulf me by fighting with every ounce of strength and fiber in my body.

My hand moved faster, my breath coming shallow now, the tension coiling low and tight and inevitable—and when I finally broke apart, the word on my lips before I could stop it, before I could intercept it or swallow it or pretend I hadn't thought it— "Ivy." I sat very still afterward, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling. This was a problem. This was a very serious, very specific problem that six months of forced proximity and apparently zero functional self-control had just made considerably worse—and the woman responsible for all of it was currently, somewhere down that hallway, getting dressed. In my facility. On my island. With nowhere for either of us to go.

The voice was deep, distorted,unrecognizable. Panic exploded inside me instantly. I tried gasping for air. Tried speaking. Tried screaming again. But the grip only tightened harder. Black spots immediately danced across my vision. My lungs burned violently. I kicked backward wildly, struggling with everything in me. The stranger cursed under their breath before throwing me harshly onto the ground. Pain shot through my side instantly. A cry escaped my lips. I tried crawling away immediately. But my body felt weak. Dizzy. My breathing came out in painful wheezes.

His laughter sounded again, but this time the sound was louder and darker… My head began to spin. “Please… stop,” I croaked. He didn't. His grip tightened instead. My vision became blurry. My muscles weakened. I stopped resisting… Suddenly, the pressure lessened, allowing a faint stream of air to reach my lungs. My body slid against the wall and collapsed. I heard something—a thud… a hit… Fighting sounds? I forced my eyes open, searching for shapes in the dark blur. I thought I saw two men… One of them must have been Dylan. But who was the other one?