Nothing In This Book Is True Novels & Stories

I say, strolling back toward her. “Besides Rat Trap on your fake tits, the second game is called Truth: A Little Flesh or Lies: A Lot of Flesh.” I smirk. “Rules are simple. I’m going to adjust our little rat friend, so he’s positioned right above your overpriced silicone tits. Then, I ask a question. As I heat the bucket. You answer and if I believe you, I release a little heat. Vincent over there, he takes part of a finger. But if we think you’re lying?” I glance over at Vinny. “I heat the bucket, and he takes the whole fucking finger.”

*You have no idea what others are dealing with in their personal life so just be nice, its that simple! This book is a complete work of fiction, No name, event or happening in this book are real. If any is found common or same as real life event or happening, then it is coincidental and shouldn't be taken personally or seriously. I apologize in advance for any error you may find in this book. Please constructive comments are welcomed, (I'll reply) but any annoying comment would be ignored and deleted. 💛 Flourish Ruth Felix (also known as love_richie)

on it in large font. "It was written by some guy named Philip Jameson and he studies ancient traditions of lost cultures. When I first saw the book, I thought it was just another children's book but after flipping a few pages, I found this," She said and opened to a particular page that had a picture of the mark on their palms. "Well, I'll be damned," Joe said. "This isn't a fictional book, boys. Everything written in here is true," Lydia said with a sparkle in her eyes.

She was gone. Didn't want him anymore. Vincent charged it, ripped it down, smashed it to the floor. He punched his own smiling face, over and over. Even when the glass sliced deep and blood dripped, he didn't stop. Like breaking it could undo everything. Only when it was unrecognizable did he finally quit. He staggered toward the living room—then froze. Next to the trash, something caught his eye. He knelt, picked up a few torn scraps. And then he saw it—two words that knocked the air out of him:

Yet in the footage, Lucas turned around and handed it directly to Lucy. Staggering to my feet, I rushed into the closet and pulled out the remaining copy of the document. The contents were identical. But there was no official seal. This copy was fake. Because I had trusted Lucas completely, I had never carefully examined the discrepancies in the documents. I collapsed onto the floor, my entire body icy cold as I listened to Lucas's gentle promise through the surveillance recording. "Don't worry. Even if I can't give you a title, I'll never let you suffer."

So I gave her the safest answer I had. "There's nothing going on." Amanda searched my face for a long, quiet moment. She knew I was hiding something, but she loved me enough not to force the lock. "Okay," she murmured, handing me a structured cream dress. "Try this one on. And when you are ready to talk... I'm here." "Thank you," I whispered, taking the dress and retreating into the bedroom. The moment the door clicked shut, my composure shattered. I leaned my back against the heavy wood, closing my eyes as my own lie echoed in the silence. There's nothing going on. The real terror wasn't just the secret itself. It was the quiet, undeniable truth lingering beneath my guilt, I didn't complete

“We have different interests. Mine is in the gym, others were at the parties.” He laughed then looked at me. “My friends once told me you’re gay, that you’re into women and not interested in men.” I squinted my eyes. “Your friends talk about me, huh?” “Well…” he shrugged, then we both laughed. “That rumor about me was false. I’m not interested in women, I’m into men. And I think people nowadays just love spreading rumors, huh? Rumors about you were proof of it, as well.” “Hmm? Rumors about me? Haven’t heard about it. I just hope they were good rumors and not bad.”

In this woman's hands, holding a book that had started with one true sentence and become, page by page, the fullest version of the truth I knew how to tell. Still here. Always still here.

Every word I spoke landed like a hammer to his chest. "Why should I forgive you just because you're sorry? You betrayed me and dragged me through endless pain. If you spend the rest of your life drowning in guilt and suffering, that's exactly what you deserve." My voice held no warmth, only a resolute finality about the past. Carlen collapsed to his knees and crawled toward me. He clung to my leg tightly as he sobbed uncontrollably. "But I was set up, Irene! I was innocent. Someone drugged me with an aphrodisiac. Lily did it on purpose!"

I clutched my book, the very one he’d brought to me to sign, like it was a shield. “So?” His voice broke the silence, deep and steady but threaded with something unspoken. “Was it real?” The question landed like a stone in my chest. I could have lied again. I could have laughed it off, told him the book was just a story, fiction, imagination spun into something people happened to believe in. That would have been easier…safer. But Noah’s eyes pinned me in place. Those eyes had always been my undoing. They weren’t just looking at me, they were seeing me, peeling away every layer until I had no defense left.