Not My Fault Book Novels & Stories

I know it's not healthy, but it's a gimmick I can't ignore. The title is: Randomness: tales of an ordinary girl. HM, OK. Let's go. “I'm Moniquinha, an ordinary girl. Even if you don't relate, it's okay. You may be an exception, a bright person, a special girl. And that's the amazing thing about it all: being different. Because, like I said, I'm pretty ordinary. And from the height of my normality, this book of randomness was born. Small texts, from short stories to chronicles, with experiences and bitterness; reflections and hope.

“It was all my fault. It was all my fault, Lindy.” All those memories from that horrible night seemed like a nightmare that is returning back to life. It flashes right in front of my face and reminds me of how a useless asshole I am for even doing nothing that night. I wasn’t able to help her and our baby. They died because of me and it’s no one else’s fault but mine. “Milo… it wasn’t your fault.” I hear Lindy say. “No Lindy.” I pull my head up as I wipe my tears. “It is all my fault.”

"Daniel's favorite color is blue. His favorite movie is 'Departures'…" She kept reading for a long time. I stood downstairs and listened in silence, my face blank for so long that I almost went numb. So, she was aware of all these small details. She had simply chosen not to care. She had ignored my pain, ignored every time I swallowed my hurt and made myself smaller for her. For years, I followed behind her and compromised again and again, until she became convinced that I would never leave.

"Hand it over. Don says if you play nice, maybe you still see your granddaughter. If not—" He didn't finish. He didn't need to. His men stepped forward. One grabbed Salvatore's shoulder. Salvatore fought it. I cut in front of them and yanked the ledgers up, waving them in front of Antonio's crew. "Your Don sent you for the books," I said. "But did he tell you what's actually inside them?" The men hesitated. Antonio barked, "Enough. Grab the books!" "Grab?" I stepped closer and flipped one ledger open, right to the page. Faulty weapons.

“The right thing would have been to book her into a fucking hotel, Brian. The right thing would have been to let me know you’re using my fucking house as emergency accommodation. The right thing would have been to fucking tell me you found her in the fucking first place.” I nod through all of it. Yes, yes and more yes. I feel like a fucking idiot, more off the rails than even I fully realised. “It isn’t his fault,” Moona offers and her simple defence makes my heart pang. “It is my fault,” I counter. “This was my decision, Moona didn’t ask to come here.” “The crow’s your fault,” Moona tells Cain and I will shut her up before she talks herself into a bigger hole than we’re in already.

“Speaking up was terrifying. Filing that report, facing the rumors, the backlash. I lost friends. I lost trust in people I thought would protect me. But I also found something I never expected support. Real support.” He glanced toward the front row, locking eyes with Chris. Then Daniel. “I had people who believed me. People who stood by me. And I learned that the shame wasn’t mine to carry. It never was.” There was a hush, a collective breath being held. Ryan’s voice softened. “I’m not telling you this for pity. I’m telling you because someone here might be holding something similar inside. And if that’s you… I want you to know: it’s not your fault. You are not alone. And it does get better.

“It wasn’t my fault?” Jared nodded. “You didn’t choose your birth. You didn’t do anything wrong. The ones at fault are them. And those days you lived through… I’m sure they were painful. But it’s over now. I’m here. No one will ever bully you again. I’ll protect you.” “Forever.” ***

Why? "Oh my God, this is all my fault."

“Yeah. It wasn’t your fault. It was simply a case of wrong place, wrong timing and that’s an act of the universe. Not you.” I choked on a sob. “Even if it was your fault, no grief should be so great that you practically ignore your child. It was their choice to bring you into the world. No one deserves that kind of hate.” Jared opened the journal again in anger and flipped. “Your mum might’ve written that suicide note but she never intended for you to find it. Look…” He handed me the book. It was opened to a page I’d never seen before. “How have I never seen this before?”

"It's not your fault that I didn't raise you well..." Wait, what! "It's my fault. It's my fault I raised you badly. It's my fault I didn't raise you to be a decent woman with self-respect. It's my fault that you... You dared to do something so immoral not caring how it would affect those around you. It's my fault you turned out to be an indecent loose woman. I failed your mother! I failed her for raising a bad daughter! I failed her for raising a slut! It's my fault! "