Possessing Nothing Novels & Stories

"You will die here. And your fucking wild rutt of a mate is dying right now in the depths of jungles of this city. I am not fucking stupid to leave a fucking mated wolf to track me down for killing his mate." He picked up an iron rod, at the of which was a heavy metal containing screws and iron plates attached, something like it was pulled out of a vehicle, a heavy truck, belonging in a garage. Some rust was covering it from the tip to the end. I had never seen it at our home, ever. He had brought it with himself. He had planned everything. Mason swung it left and right in the air in front of my eyes, making me aware that he wanted to see the fear of upcoming death in my eyes.

“—will never make me feel like I am.” Her pulse thundered in her ears as his warning hung in the air, every word dripping with possessive menace.

Have you ever spent your life thinking about what it means to have everything when you actually have nothing? It’s a strange, hollow question to carry around. Most people think "having nothing" means a lack of money or a roof over your head, but there’s a deeper kind of poverty. It’s the kind where you have your health, a job, and a place to sleep, but you lack the one thing that would make any of it matter. It’s the gap between who you are and who you want to be for someone else.

"You can't take my stuff. Give me my stuff." He pulls away from my weak hold. "Who do you think you are?" I have nothing left to lose. "I am nothing. You've made me nothing, I get it, okay? But the music and my books, my mom, it's all I have." "It looks like you have nothing, then."

"I'm more careful about it now than I used to be." "Your job " "Irrelevant." "Apartment. Car. Everything waiting for you down there " "None of it matters!" The words tore out of him suddenly, pressurized, like something that had been held under water for too long. "There is nothing in that apartment I would lose sleep over losing. One box. My mother's belongings sitting in a closet that's the only thing in that entire space that means anything. The rest of it can disappear." His voice began to fracture at the edges. "Why won't you hear me? There is no life pulling me back, Jace. Nobody is waiting. Nothing I'd grieve. I have rebuilt from nothing more times than I can count and I would do it a

Nothing here has been cleared. Nothing here has been replaced. I wasn’t brought here to start anything. I was brought here to hold it in place.

Everything had always meant something. I just hadn't known what. "I don't have anything," I said. My voice came out steady. I was grateful for that. "I grew up in shelters. I had nothing. I owned nothing. There was nothing to leave with me." "I know," Ryan said. "Then why—"

I muttered to myself, “Lise, you can do it. You’ve seen people on TV do it. How hard can it be anyways?” Very hard, it turned out, considering I had no tools, no phone and was stuck. God only knew where. Maybe this was how I died, or worse. I sat back in the car, trying to come up with a second game plan. I could either get out on the road, try to hitch a ride and leave my car here. Or, I could stay here in the hopes that someone would realise that I was missing. I could also run in my wolf form, but we usually avoided doing that in places we were not very familiar with. I would definitely be shot.

And the expression on his face was something I had never seen on Adam Ballard's face in all the years I had known him. Puppy-dog eyes. Not the calculated, weaponized vulnerability of Lily's performances. Not the strategic helplessness of Marie's tears. Something genuine, unguarded, and utterly mortifying — the expression of a man who had been powerful and rich and untouchable his entire life and had just discovered what it felt like to have nothing. "I have nothing, Alice," he said. "No money. No home. No phone — they took that too. No ID beyond the hospital discharge papers. I am, at this moment, a man with no assets, no resources, and nowhere to go."

When I don’t reply, he continues. “Absolutely nothing. Ben Russo didn’t officially adopt you. The only thing that ties you to him, your mother, is gone. You don’t have any investments, assets, trust fund, or money stacked away anywhere… You're just existing, wearing fancy designer outfits that won't fetch you much. These are just peanuts when you think about how much wealth the Russos have. But then, you're not me. So, you're acting exactly like you: taking peanuts, always dressed spectacularly like an Angel straight out of heaven with absolutely nothing but peanuts in your bank accounts while offering your pussy up as an offering 2.4.7.”