Novels About Self-harm Novels & Stories

He spoke, it was the first time I had heard his voice in three days, it was still calm and soothing but there was a hint of anger in it, one that I didn’t like. He was about to walk away and I sprinted toward him and stood in front; I can’t deal with this like this, I can’t deal with it alone, I need someone to be with me and it has to be him. “I used to self-harm.” I breathed out, my heart skipped for a moment when my eyes met his, and there was a hint of confusion in his eyes. “I use to use little blades or knife to hurt myself and when I started dating Nicholas, it got worse; I stopped after we broke up, I seeked for help for a while but I didn’t want anyone to know so I stopped, not even

The book Embracing Shadows, which she wrote thinking of him, too. "I wrote that book to get everything I lived through out of me. The repeated rape. My mother’s complicity. The abandonment. The toxic relationships before I met your fathers. The fear of not being enough. The guilt of loving three men with such heavy pasts. I wrote it to heal myself. And so that, if you ever read it one day, you would understand that it wasn’t weakness on my part. It was survival. And that the love we built, despite everything, was our greatest victory." Matthew remained silent for long minutes. When he finally spoke, his voice was choked but firm:

TW: Self Harm. I pulled myself away from the gruesome memory, my chest heaving fast and hard. As I took in a deep breath, my phone dropped to the floor with a thud. The rage. The pain. All too unbearable for me to manage. I needed a distraction. Some sort of pain to dull the one that was already ripping at my insides like a chicken being violently shredded with a fork. And so, I did the one thing that would help bring me back to my senses for a moment, at least. I reached for the glass cup beside me and squeezed it until it shattered, the tiny bits of it cutting sharply into my palms.

Elena They always say your past can’t hurt you if you’ve moved on. They lie. Because sometimes, it doesn’t matter how far you run— The past grows legs. And Daniel Hart had just found him again. The Journal For three days, I didn’t sleep. I read every page of that journal. It was unfiltered. Unhinged. He’d documented his unraveling with poetic precision, like a man convinced his suffering made him holy. Like he was the victim.

I argued back. "Mates fight. Both our brains are fucked up, baby. That's why it gets so explosive. And I wish--I wish we had some way to control ourselves in the moment, but we don't. So you need to promise me that even after we fight, you won't go off and do something stupid. Like saying that I only need you for your body. Or--or hurt yourself," My eyes widened, my head jerking up. I never told anyone about the self-harm."Y-you know?" I asked, my voice shaking.

The book called him a warning about what happened when too much power met too much pain. I closed the book and shoved it back on the shelf, and I couldn’t stop thinking about whether I was going to end up like him. Whether loving Luca and being with him would eventually destroy us both the way Yara and Arden had destroyed each other. I went back to Luca’s room because I didn’t know where else to go, and I sat on his bed staring at the hole I’d punched in the wall. I had answers now about who I was and where I came from, but I had no idea how to control any of it or how to stop being a burden.

Zane caught up with me as he held my arm and asked, “When will I see you again?” “Soon,” I smiled at him and then left. *** TRIGGER WARNING!! — This part of the chapter contains vivid fictional description of self-harm. The attempts were made by the author, who has a personal history of self-harm herself. This is not meant to hurt any sentiments and if you are prone to such content, kindly skip this one and read chapter 35 in which everything about this part will be explained, without the descriptions and graphic content. -Amelia's POV- I reached home in a haste, a little upset that I couldn’t spend more time with Zane and my friends, but anyway, I know I have to be mentally prepared to hear

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains depictions of ongoing captivity, domestic abuse, trauma, and mentions of past suicidal ideation/self-harm. Reader discretion is advised. It's easy to just give up and die. It's easy to just leave the pain here, to just vanish to feel free. It is such an easy thing to do for people who are completely exhausted by life, like me. I only wish I had just died from blood loss or an infection from the nail I saw. With that, I'll escape all the sufferings.

The scar is a container and a protective space where the memory can be stored and endured privately. The causes of scars remain in storage in the body and the mind, and sometimes can shape actions for a person’s entire life. That's what Beneath The Scars is going to talk about . It's going to talk about how to never give up without a fight. W A R N I N G The book contains scenes of self-harm, mentions of abuse and suicide, themes of grief and depression, and sexual content towards the first half of the book . Readers are requested to proceed with caution. Please skip if you see any scene that you may find triggering.

I answer, telling him half the truth. I never told anyone this apart from an old worker, Jenette. I would hurt myself. I don't know why but I did. Knowing that Vicktor would hurt me I felt so unworthy as if I deserved to feel the pain so I would do it to myself. The first time I did was the third time Vicktor raised his hands on me. I felt everything and nothing at the same time. I remember the day as if it was yesterday. A younger me rushed to the bathroom, searching the cabinets until she found a needle. Confused and hurt to why she has the sudden thought to hurt herself, convincing herself that she deserves it. That she deserves the pain. Pricking the sharp needle into her fingertips watc