Pieces Of Her Novels & Stories

When she saw the familiar faces in her living room, she didn’t have to ask why the pinks were freaking out. “Sorry, we just got excited. If you didn’t come back, we wouldn’t even see these two,” they almost said in unison, referring to Robin and Steve. She chuckled and shook her head in amusement before going back in and facing her dresser to finish preparing. Jada wore an ash-colored tube paired with ripped shorts and gladiator sandals. She added a bit of makeup and accessories and she was done. When she came out, the pinks couldn’t stop praising her. "O-M-G! My talent’s really gorgeous!" Bambi shrieked.

We stay like this for a long time until she's ready to continue. "All I remember is the feeling my neck snapping," She looks at her hands as she pulls away from me, "And I hit him. The man who killed me. I think I tore something off him." Her words strike me, and I stare at her with wide eyes, "You broke something of his? Do you know what?" She shakes her head, her eyes cloud and milky as they glaze over, "It was...I don't know it was sharp. Like a rock. A pendant."

She brushed her teeth and removed her makeup before leaving the room and going to the walk in closest to grab one of Vincent’s shirts to sleep in. She reached for the top shelf for the shirt when she felt wet between her legs. Looking down her eyes widened. “Oh shit,” she whispered to herself. “Vince!” She yelled for him. She grabbed a pair of his sweats and a shirt. “Vince,” she yelled again as she changed her clothes. When she was done, she walked out of the closet, “Vince!” “What is it?” Vincent huffed walking into the room. His eyes widened when he saw her face crumbled in pain. “What’s wrong?”

She said dumbfoundedly. She chose a black sleeveless turtleneck and leather pants and sneakers. After grabbing those three, she threw them accurately on the bed without looking. Shutting the cupboard close, she undid the bandages around her, except her private part. She stood right in front of the massive mirror that she found somewhere at the corner and stared at her own body reflection. She was suffering from injuries. But it was non-threatening. “This is too weak. I can’t die with merely broken ribs or stabbing at heart.” She messed up her long hair.

The draft from his movement scattered some of the pieces further. She stood silently in the living room and stared at the torn notebook in a daze. It was a long while before she squatted down and started to gather them together. Like the scattered scraps of paper, her insignificant wishes lay shattered and scattered, unable to be pieced back together. She got on her hands and knees and picked up the pieces that fell under the coffee table and couch.

“Sorry, I ran into Xavier,” “Hmm.” was all that escaped her closed lips. “You know, you both are just perfect for each other” she continued. “Excuse me,” I said as I turned my head to look at her. “Uh, don't ruin this for me,” she said. I had forgotten she was working on finishing touches on my hair. “I got it” she exclaimed, excitement burning in her eyes. I rolled my eyes, “Got what now?” I thought. “A puzzle, it's just like a puzzle, you're that missing piece,” she said, her eyes glowing.

It was then she realized she'd long neglected me since I turned one. The one who'd been living through the years was a child who'd never been loved. She'd been tortured and could only weep in silence. And Mom could never make up for her mistakes. Mom put the doll on my bed. With a relieved smile, she lit a match. Everything would be dead and gone once she dropped the match. The dim light lit up her face. Her eyes were sunken, and so were her cheeks. She looked terrible. "Xenia, I'm coming for you," she said in an extremely gentle tone. Her arm fell beside her naturally, and the match fell onto the gasoline-clad floor.

The real one. She tried to kill a teenage boy. We don’t even know why! Who the hell cares what she calls crazy? He’s absolutely right. And I’m not the crazy girl anymore, even if I’ll be crazy for the rest of my life after this. I look up slowly, along the leg of her charcoal pantsuit, and find the spot I’m searching for. Just above her knee, on the inside of her leg. This has to work. I adjust the tile shard and slice.

Part of her wanted to slap him; another, darker part, to pull him closer and shatter that smug armor. Instead, she turned, grabbed scissors from her drawer. "Wrong? I'll show you wrong." With deliberate snips, she shredded the check—zeros fluttering to the floor like confetti from a failed party. Piece by piece, until nothing legible remained. She let the scraps fall, meeting his stunned gaze.

He got up further tense as she followed him and couldn't stop her getting distracted, why would he do all this with her, why would it hurt her this time more than ever again He came back again looking at her with those looks that confuse her and watched him to find him holding a short leather stick from which he takes out several very thin leather pieces to realize that it was the same that he was using on her a little while ago