Pieces Of Me Novels & Stories

ABIGAIL POV's I slumped down on my seat between Mia and Cora, not minding to greet them as soon as I stepped inside our room. My body, as well as my legs and feet, still ache because of running, climbing, and jumping at the ten-foot wall for the first time in my life, and even I can't believe I did it. My god, that guy is something. It's just a damn single picture. He won't die because of it. If only I knew that damn picture would turn my life into hell, I never stole that damn thing. I cursed and laid my head on my folded arms above my desk, feeling frustrated with myself for doing a stupid thing that resulted in my misery.

"That was a foolish thing to do. You were a coward. You didn't wait to apologize. Repair what you have done. Find the man within two days, convince him to marry you. The dowry will be generous of course. If you find him and get engaged, we can cover up the incident and then pass the company to you, otherwise you're on your own" Melody bowed down her head and sneaked away through the side entrance. She wondered how to find him with no clues. She took her bath and entered the dressing room, her eyes went to the suit. Could that be a clue?. It was a limited edition. She searched but there were records of three different Aries that bought it from the company. How can three different Aries buy it

It was simply the beginning of something new. My thoughts drifted back to that family trip—the day we were attacked. The surgery had been a success, and my life, once filled with pain and sorrow, finally ended.

It was like drowning in a pool with no bottom. I leaned my head back against the wall. “Why am I always the one who ruins everything?” I muttered. “Why do I bring nothing but pain to the people I love?” I closed my eyes, forcing the tears back. “I’m so tired,” I whispered. “So tired of fighting, of hurting, of being hurt.” Then I saw it. Just a flicker of metal in the corner of the room. It had been there the whole time, I think—maybe tucked beneath the edge of the pallet they’d given me to sleep on. A piece of something broken. Jagged. Sharp.

then there was this. A fog of horror was spreading around my heart, eating me alive inside. At that moment I realized that the glass coffee table was missing. I moved closer and crouched, only to see the remains of the shards scattered all over the carpet. I looked up at my dad, who was lying half-dead on the couch, and saw that his sweatpants were torn in the knee area and covered in a deep red stain. And the demons inside my soul tried to tear it apart. To get outside.

He froze, and the light in his eyes snuffed out into emptiness. "The doctor said the carbon-monoxide exposure, along with your earlier miscarriage, has really taken a toll on your body. You need to rest and recover," he said softly, his voice thick with pain. Why should I recover? To regain strength and be locked back in his gilded cage? So I could endure that same despair all over again? I finally spoke, my voice so faint it was barely a whisper. "Damien, just let me go." It was my way of reminding him to let himself go as well.

My eyes flew open. The world was a haze of antiseptic whites and blaring machines. The pungent sting of antiseptic burned my nose, along with the agony firing through each bone in my body. I tried to talk, to yell, but what emerged was a broken rasp. No voice. No sound.

“It’s not good either.” She exhales slowly. “No. It isn’t.” She closes her eyes. “I don’t think I’m supposed to stop things anymore,” I say after a moment. Her body goes very still. “What do you mean baby?” she asks. “I think I’m supposed to help them meet.” Her voice is careful when she asks, “Meet what?” I search for the words. They feel too big for my mouth, but the feeling itself is simple. “Pieces,” I say. “Things that broke, things that were never touched because everyone was scared of what would happen.”

I was fucking tired of being a pawn, and I wasn’t going to do it anymore. Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the contacts and squished them between my fingertips, then let the water wash them from my hand and down the large drain. There was a moment’s panic when they didn’t make it through the grate right away, but they disappeared before I could act on it. And then they were gone.

“What’s this?” He chuckles sadly. “It’s a thorn from your first shelter. The one they had me break… it’s a piece of you. It’s helped me get through all of the experiments, all of the dark times, because I knew I had at least a small part of me with you.”