Pure Taboo Homeless Novels & Stories

He saw me at my lowest point, and I was worried I’d be dependent on him. He sighed as he looked in front of him again. His jaw tensed. “You don’t trust this is free.” I looked down, biting my bottom lip. “I’ve begged many times. I seek help from different people, trying to find a way to save my home. They were all heartless. They don’t understand the value of this place to homeless children. Everything that matters to them is profit and legality.” “It’s business. Some people tend to lose humanity over wealth.”

She blinked her pretty eyes as her gaze found him in an instant. "You're wearing men's shorts that are way too big. No shoes. A bloody shirt that could fit a man ten times your size. What else would you be?" Tag said, crossed his arms over his chest. Hollyn opened her mouth. Snapped it shut moments later. Tipped her head to the side. "Well, fine. I'm not sure what a homeless is other than something without a home, but I had one. I just ran away. Finally." A fire lit deep in her eyes. "And you can't make me go back." She crossed her arms and glared up at Tag.

I said to myself that if I ever had the opportunity to leave the Whites, I’d work on my own and be satisfied that what I earn is mine. But now… now this offer is tempting, especially because I have nowhere to go and no family to return to. I’m homeless. Hunter destroyed everything. Every. Damn. Thing. A shatter draws me back to the present. And I find Zavere cursing beneath his breath as he crouches down. “Are you also shaken so much you spill your whiskey?” I tease, earning a smile from the man. I don’t know how I’m still staring though. Normally I wouldn’t enjoy watching someone pick broken glasses because… what is the fun there?

The poor man had been publicly humiliated, and as he was restrained and forced from the carriage, he’d turned to the apathetic onlookers and in a deep gravelly voice, and said, “What do you want from me? Just because you don’t want to see it, it doesn’t mean it’s not happening. I’m just going to be homeless somewhere else!” His words resonated with Celeste that night. She wondered where that man had slept, squirreled away out of sight and mind, in some decaying squat in the city, or in a multi-storey carpark that stunk of diesel and petrol fumes, the effluence of affluence.

The street was glittering from the beautiful Christmas decorations that adore every house and shop. It must feel nice to belong to one of those happy families behind closed doors, sharing laughter and the holiday spirit with people who love and genuinely care for you. But here I was roaming the street with the hope of getting something to eat, even a dry bread at this moment would taste like chicken fries. I was alone, hungry, and homeless. My name is Rebecca Sally and I am sixteen years old. I have been homeless for the past nine months. My story is quite a depressing one, it's not your regular story of beautiful girls and boys falling in love or peeps that were born with magical powers.

Still, that alone seemed to exude an unintended allure to the eyes of that inebriated man. "What do you think you're doing? I'll call the police if you come any closer!" Rita warned. He had experienced similar rebuffs on numerous occasions since it was quite obvious that no one would ever be attracted to a hobo like him. However, his urges had become a little difficult to control because he had a little too much to drink that day. "Damn it! Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? You should be grateful I found you attractive!" retorted the homeless.

2M followers) pinned at the top: “Nico Black’s Homeless Period Exposed – Ages 18–21. Kicked out of last foster home at 18. Lived on the streets. Multiple arrests for ‘disorderly conduct’ and ‘trespassing.’ No job history. No family. How did this human even get into BludHeaven? #NicoExposed #QueensManipulated”

I thought the sessions with the psychologist would be more difficult. The topics we address are heavy, yet I find it easy to open up to her. Like Jane, I’m a very reserved person, and it embarrasses me to admit that I endured severe psychological abuse from my husband. I'm also ashamed of having had a lover. According to the values I was raised with, that was immoral—no different than being a prostitute. And on top of all that, I danced in a nightclub where illegal dealings took place.

Camila sobs while she called her brother name until she drifted off to a deep sleep. Camila area breed of allot of children who can't be trained to school, some homeless without parents. Well only because it is a poverty stricken commune. Allot of homeless and displaced children and adults both old and young, filed every corner of the streets. Each gave raise to crimes such as theft, illegal drug and human trafficking, sex slavery and many more. It was a bad inhabitant for Camila and her brother but they had kept their head low and survived. The little money they made from selling newspaper in the street, roadside and offices had manage to provide food at their table. Father brought no money

“Here? But… someone could see. We could be caught.” “Let them,” he said, his voice a low, cruel purr, a terrifying, thrilling prospect. “Let them see what a filthy little slut you are. Let them see who you belong to. Let them see the power I have over you, the power to make you fuck me in public, like a common whore.”