Romans & histoires Pieces Of Her

I know what I'm doing is wrong, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right? The way she limped up the stairs still disturbs me. Kaima was simply careless and I couldn't stop myself from throwing daggers at her with my eyes... she was too occupied to notice, anyway. She sat opposite me on our study table but she was too engrossed and at some intervals too excited to be the same girl who always groans at the sight of her books. Even I wouldn't and I can say for a fact that I love studying, except... I zoomed my sight on the book in her hands. That wasn't her basic technology textbook. It's a novel, one that isn't part of her literature class and the title- 'One night with the playboy'

Zheira pointed to the mirror, and whispered timidly, “It broke.” Celestine nodded while examining her cheeks, making sure not to look at her eyes nor at her horns. “Hold your breath.” One by one, she started removing the glasses. Two small pieces were piercing her right cheeks and three on the left. Every time she managed to get a piece, Zheira would wince and she had to blow some air on it to stop it from aching.

The cake he'd surprised me with in the morning before we left to work had brought tears to my eyes and the surprise he was planning for later was uncalled for, really. Kayden had given me a second chance of making everything right and I was not going to screw it up. I was still trying to pick up the pieces of my shattered life and piece them back together, five years later. I may have fallen to the ground but I trusted myself to get up too. "... Isla?" An irritated voice snapped me from my reverie and I turned around to meet Maeve's signature frown. She raked her manicured fingers in her hair which was too blonde to be true and stepped closer, her expensive perfume suffocating me.

Not with this kind of rage. I barely had time to process before she grabbed a glass paperweight from the mantle and hurled it at me. I dodged, just barely, the glass shattering against the floor, shards skimming across my skin. My breath hitched. "You told them." Her voice was deadly quiet now. My heart stopped. "What?" I knew what she was talking about but she had just given me something for the first time. Something that was a part of me. A piece of me that I never knew.

Its blade gleamed faintly in the sparse light, sharp and unyielding—a reflection of the resolve hardening in her eyes. With careful precision, she cut the fabric into three long strips, the sound of the blade slicing through cloth filling the silent room. She stripped off her shirt, her eyes catching her reflection in the cracked mirror hanging lopsidedly on the wall. Her shoulders were lean but strong, her form deceptively wiry.

The skyline was adorned with a golden hue, as if the world was celebrating her newfound sense of self. As she stood there, her gaze fixed on the horizon, memories of her journey flooded her mind. She remembered the day she had stumbled upon her past, the secrets that had shattered her world into a million pieces. But she had picked up those fragments, one by one, and had painstakingly put them back together.

It broke into pieces with the flowers scattering on the floor. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she picked a broken piece with a sharp edge. She walked away heading to the large dressing mirror in the room. Each step she took, broken shards pierced deeply into her feet. She felt blood leaving her each second but she didn't care Standing in front of the mirror, she looked at her pathetic self. All she wanted was to DIE and end her sorrows. Her mom words began ringing in her ears.

She was a gold digger just like the others! At once rashes began to develop on his skin and he fell on the floor. His hand hit a button as he fell. There were buttons scattered on the floor, he remembered her ruined shirt. She was not a gold digger, she had taken it to cover up. At once his rashes began to disappear.

"Why is it always her." She crossed to the mirror. Crouched. Picked up one of the larger shards — thick at the base, her reflection warped in its surface, distorted and fractured and still somehow more honest than the whole mirror had ever been. Her hand closed around it. The edge bit into her palm. She didn't open her hand.

Just a fact. “Yes,” I replied. Her gaze held mine for a second longer before she looked back down at the pieces. “It broke from the middle first,” she said. I moved closer slowly, stopping at the familiar distance that had become instinct now. “That usually matters,” I said. She nodded faintly. “I think the bottom was already weak before that.” I crouched slightly, observing the scattered pieces without touching them. “Yes,” I said quietly. “Probably.” Blue turned one of the blocks in her hand.