Psychological Realism

After one soul-crushing breakup, Summer Peterson—quirky, invisible, heartbroken—swore she’d never fall again. But secrets don’t care about promises. Especially not the kind hiding in her best friend’s older brother. Hayden is everything she shouldn’t want. Dangerous. Magnetic. Off-limits. But one forbidden kiss was all it took to unravel her. Now every stolen moment pulls her deeper—into a twisted affair of obsession, lies, and betrayal. Hayden doesn’t just touch. He marks. He owns. And he’s hiding a secret that could destroy them both. Someone is watching. Someone who wants her. And someone who will do anything to tear them apart. Loving him might ruin her. Leaving him might kill her. How do you run from the boy who’d burn the world to keep you? And how far will she go for a love that was never meant to save her? ⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING – MATURE CONTENT AHEAD This story doesn’t hold back. It dives deep into explicit sexual content, intense emotional trauma, abuse, violence, and psychological manipulation. This content is strictly for 18+ audiences. If you proceed, do so with your eyes wide open. You’ve been warned.

When my wife brought her lover home for the fifth time, I decided enough was enough. I said nothing, not a word of complaint or protest. Instead, I superglued the windows shut and locked the bedroom door from the outside. From the bedroom came the muffled sounds of her little escapade, breathless and feverish, carrying through the walls like a shameful melody no one asked to hear. Calmly, I sat in the living room, picked up the phone, and called my mother-in-law. "Jessie," I said, putting on my best tone of urgency, "it's bad—real bad! Your daughter's locked herself in the bedroom and says she's gonna end it all!"

After my granddaughter is bullied by her classmates, the bully's family not only refuses to apologize but behaves arrogantly as well. Since they have connections in the city, the school doesn't dare intervene. I turn to the police, but they only urge me to let it go. The bully's family even boasted that they have people in the court, daring me to sue them. With every path to justice cut off, I have no choice but to take out the two Medals of Honor left behind after my son and daughter-in-law died in service, and kneel at the gates of the military compound. Six years ago, when the general personally delivered those medals to our home, he'd said, "Your son and daughter-in-law gave their lives for the country. They are heroes, martyrs, and the pride of our nation." But now, I want to ask him again. Why is it that when a martyr's daughter is bullied, no one protects her?

I die in the basement after being burned by acid. My family doesn't recognize me, and they don't call the cops. My mother picks up the scalpel that hasn't been used in years and debones me. My father excitedly mixes my skeleton with concrete and turns me into an exquisite statue. My sister uses the sculpture she's made out of my flesh and portrays herself as a genius sculptor whom everyone admires. Later, the sculpture is shattered, revealing half a broken finger inside. That's when everyone panics.

If we psychologically damage an individual beyond repair, what will be the consequence of it? We all have a limit to the amount of mental and psychological stress we can take. Once the stress exceeds the limit, we’ll reach our breaking point. What happens after that is a mystery no one can solve, or is it? Lydia Johnson faces a similar situation. She is a complex young woman who faces a downfall stemming from the mental and physical abuse of her father and siblings, the negligence of her mother, and a chilling secret. From abused to loved, to abused again--that’s how life is for Lydia. Her family taught her only one lesson: emotions are for the weak and the weak don’t have a place in this world. With each kill, Lydia atones for the loss of her innocence by getting rid of another emotion and also rids the world of someone undeserving of her love and forgiveness. What lengths will she go to, for revenge, and prove her resilience? Will she ever be able to live her life like a normal person again? Or will she continue killing everyone until her own death?

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At the company's celebration dinner, the new HR guy slapped a bill on the table—$860 for A/C and venue costs from our last all-nighter. I shot a look at Sherry—my girlfriend, my boss—thinking she'd have my back. Nope. She latched onto HR's arm and said, "Quentin, this isn't your daddy's company. Quit freeloading." And just like that, nine years of busting my ass for this company, and turns out—I was the discount item on the menu.

On the day of my birthday, my cousin, who does ballet, falls and injures her leg. My father smacks my leg with a club in a fit of rage. I cry out in pain, but he doesn't care. He sneers and says, "Now, you know how it feels! Why didn't you stop to think how much pain your cousin would be in when you pushed her and made her fall down the stairs?" He hits me with all his might until I can't make any more sounds. To drive the lesson home, he shoves me into the basement, uncaring that I'm on the brink of death. "I'll let you out of there once you stop thinking these dirty thoughts, Yvonne!" But when he opens the door to the basement once more, all he sees is my decomposing corpse.

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.

In the opulent halls of the Stanley manor, Judy Kent, the daughter of the family chauffeur, grew up alongside Chris Stanley. Their childhood bond blossomed quietly, a tender friendship that seemed unshakable. But Chris' traumatic kidnapping left him with deep psychological scars, manifesting in a peculiar fixation directed solely at Judy. Tragedy struck when Chris' father died in a car accident. With Judy’s father on leave that day and a substitute driver behind the wheel, Chris' grief turned into misplaced hatred toward Judy’s family. Their once-close bond shattered. Consumed by bitterness, Chris withdrew from her and inflicted emotional torment, even coercing her into signing a contract that bound her to him. Yet beneath the layers of anger, Chris' love for Judy never truly faded—it was merely buried under his rage. When the truth of the accident finally surfaced, the weight of Chris' actions drove Judy to walk away, unable to reconcile with the pain of her past. Only then did Chris realize the depth of his mistakes. Overwhelmed by guilt, he vowed to make amends, embarking on a desperate pursuit to win back her love and trust. But can Judy’s fractured heart mend? Will their shared history and enduring connection be enough to overcome the barriers between them? Or has too much been lost in the wake of betrayal for love to flourish again in the manor’s shadowed corridors?