Novel & Cerita Novels About Self-harm

no, I arranged his bed again that I had scattered, cause no matter how mad I was for burning my project up, I still didn't wanted any fucking trouble when he was back, so that he wouldn't kill me out of anger for messing with his stuff, but as soon as am about to quietly return back to my own lane to wait innocently, and yell at that dickhead when he was back about why on earth he burnt my project up, my curious eyes, yes, the same eyes that would make him kill me, drifted to the side, and I see a black book placed perfectly on the side of his bed "I didn't even know he had something like this, but it must have fell from under his pillow" I told myself as I picked it up to return it back to

This was my last hope. “This is my last hope! This fucking study is…” I would have roared, body trembling and palms sweating when my gaze fell on the bookshelf. “Maybe I'll find a book that will help with my madness after this.” I sighed, giving up. I began to rummage through the covers, hoping for a title that would catch my attention. Shawn seemed to read a lot of books on self-growth and improvement. He also read a few about redemption but when I found one titled: ‘The Weightiness of Guilt’, something about it drew me closer.

I feel so helpless. Self-harm is not the solution to get out of the problem but I seem to like that option lately. I don’t want to react the way I react when he is close to me. I don’t want to please him but I somehow do it willingly after being aroused. I haven’t done anything serious yet; just a few pinches and slaps. I want to share my thoughts with someone. I want to take advice from someone that is not Austin but there is no one to give me company in such a hard time except for the beast himself.

But I couldn't blame her, because it was really boring if you were not doing anything. Does having strong hands help me do something? Or would it just bring pain to other people? I didn't mean to hurt anyone, and I would never mean to hurt them. What if my next move couldn't be carried out by the word "I'm sorry" anymore? What should I do then? I didn't want to hurt someone without any clear reason. I was tired of sitting on the couch, so I decided to visit the library of the mansion. I knew that reading books could give me solace. I wanted to read a romance novel so that I could forget my problems.

"Self-harm is not a disease. It's a spell that is cast on us in the weakest moments." [Jacqueline] .... [Jacqueline's pov] Sometimes I love that time passes. That it won't stop for anyone. Because sometimes getting through a night alive is the most audacious thing. Like last night I felt the need to just kill myself. The need to remove the pain of these sufferings. Is death that horrible? Or is it because people have never been able to get through the real hidden secret of it that they blubber against deaths. Have you ever felt that? The feeling of just get the day over. So you won't have to stay in the same place that is hurting you? Huh. What I am even asking, everyone, does feels that. No

Azrael asked. “I haven’t gone far into the book but it’s a story based on an actual schizophrenic patient the writer knew; it was meant to educate the public about various mental disorders in the mental asylum they call hell. I thought it would be fun reading a genre I’m not too familiar with.” I explained as I touched the front of the book. “I can recommend something if you get hitched. Utopia by Kelvin McLean. It’s about a nymphomaniac struggling to overcome his issue so that he can be in a happy relationship with the woman he’s been in love with for seven years.” Azrael recommended.

he cut me off, "I know about the self-harm." I froze. "I know you've been cutting yourself. Burning yourself. Hurting your own body whenever your mind convinces you you've failed." My throat tightened. "And I'm not talking about Dyslexia and Disgraphia I know your doctors diagnosed you with Major Depressive Disorder. I know they prescribed antidepressants, and I know you rarely take them because once you feel a little better, you convince yourself you don't need them anymore." I couldn't look at him, shame filled me.

But Thorne remained unmoved, his pupils trembling violently when Thea's lips touched his. "Thea!" he pushed her away. Thea stared at him with a stubbornness in her eyes, but eventually, that stubbornness gave way and she looked away, her eyes red. Suddenly, she raised her own wrist and fiercely bit into it. There was no cure, so she chose self-harm. "Thea," Thorne stood up from his wheelchair and stumbled towards her. He clumsily threw himself at her, knocking Thea to the ground. "Thea, you must not hurt yourself."

“She was already sick when I got there. She didn’t tell me and took care of me like I was her own son. She died three years later. I was fifteen.” He looked at me then. “After that… I didn’t have anyone.” My heart cracked clean in two. “And the tattoos?” I asked gently. He glanced down at the ink covering his ribs. His chest. His arms. “They are my self-harm,” he said, voice flat. “Instead of cutting, I let the ink sting. Let the needle prick me again and again. I wanted to feel pain. I wanted to feel alive, Kieran. So, I turned every scar into art.”

CONTENT WARNINGS: This chapter contains graphic depictions of sexual violence, non-consensual acts, trauma, panic attacks, drug use, coercion, and self-harm ideation. It may be distressing or triggering for some readers. CONRAD After I slipped the bottle back into my pocket and walked away from her door. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. I had told myself it was necessary. It was not my fault. I was possessed. These demons… These monsters had taken root in my mind and were preying on everything. I was not even sure who was in control anymore.