Romans & histoires Scared Potter

Maisy Too scared to move, Too scarred to breathe, Too stiffened to look. Maybe not... My eyes stayed glued on the distorted figure screeching in pain. Each agonizing cry reminding me of the first time I met Eric. I watched him shrink, his bones tearing out of his skin. He was changing...into something different, Something inhuman. I clamped my eyes shut, trying not to faint. Right now, It felt like the only sane thing to do.

Hazel's anxious face became redder, then she rolled her cute eyes and she turned her head into the window. The awkward atmosphere grew intensely, as Jae started teasing her. Then suddenly the company's guard knocked on the door. "Boss, Someone's here from the City Bank, he said that he is the director of the bank and came here to apologize to you!" Daryl Poxter was in despair when he knew that the one he offended this morning was no ordinary person, and it turns out that he is the most feared person in the world who turned it up side down.

. Like👍 before reading please. . 💔Hidden Scars💔 (Pain within😭) . . ✏Written By: _____Authoress Kamara✍_____ . . 😍Episode 23😍 . . 🌹Natasha🌹 "I should stop? Nat, when will you stop being so afraid of him? I know what he's doing to you but why won't you talk". He yells at me. "That asshole of a stepbrother is just using your fear against you by doing those horrible things".

He flailed his arm around and took an involuntary step backwards, almost stepping onto Trevor’s plimsoll. “Hey, I got enough on my plate without you breaking my foot,” Trevor protested. Cotteridge smiled with embarrassment but his eyes were alert and keeping an eye on the floor, even though it was too gloomy to see anything in detail. “My apologies, I thought it may have been a spider. They are a pet fear of mine. The mere presence has me all of a dither.”

All of a sudden some bikers came forward from behind them and drove past me as they were now surrounding me with their bikes, roaring the engine to scare me. "I didn't know that cats are this clever to play with those kinds of toys."The Scar face said all of a sudden, getting into the conversation. Oh, I forget he speaks. He looks good when he keeps his mouth shut because whenever he speaks up it doesn't help at all. In fact his voice and presence sucks up your confidence leaving you stammering. "That shouldn't bother you." I said looking direct in his eyes but when he raised his bruised eyebrow at me,I started to blink several times and quickly diverted my gaze away from him.

I was scared of them, terrified even. One day, a male warrior walked up to me alone when I was walking and offered to give me a tour. Instantly, I shut down and flinched away from his outstretched hand. When the warrior realized that I was scared, he didn't get mad. Inst, he lifted his hands and smiled as he turned and called for a female to come over and walk with us. And with the female beside me, I slowly stepped up to my fears as I walked towards the pack house.

Instead, he wandered over to the edge of my herb garden, crouching like he had any business near my basil. “What’s this one?” he asked, pointing at a small pot. I rolled my eyes. “If you touch that, your hands will burn.” He paused. “Are you joking?” “No.” He leaned back. “You really are trying to scare me off, huh?” “Not trying,” I said. “Just being honest.” He stood up and looked at me, all the teasing drained from his face. “I’m not scared of you, Sienna.” “Maybe you should be.”

The closeness felt too loaded, too close to old expectations. Then, a few days later, I noticed a flyer taped crookedly on the bulletin board at the community center while waiting for the kids. The paper was slightly wrinkled, the font cheerful and unintimidating. BEGINNER'S POTTERY: FIND YOUR CENTER. I stared at it longer than necessary. It felt safe. Messy. Ordinary. Completely unconnected to sex, trauma, or emotional landmines. That night, I brought it up. "Pottery?" Leo repeated, skeptical but curious.

“Dangerous hobby.” “Maybe,” I admitted. The pancakes started burning. He turned quickly and saved them at the last second. I watched him plate them up. Normal moment.Domestic.Safe. And yet something underneath it all felt fragile. Like the calm before the sky turned black. “You know what scares me,” I said softly. He glanced over his shoulder. “What?” “That this is real,” I admitted, my heart pounding. He turned back around slowly. “And real things,” I added, “can be taken away.”

Blurring the edges, making everything feel distant and unreal. I was reaching for the fifth drink when I noticed him. A man sitting few stools away from me, dark hair, expensive suit and an untouched glass in front of him. He was staring at me. His eyes held nothing but sadness. Our eyes met and something passed between us. Recognition maybe. Of pain, of two people drowning in their own separate hells. "Whatever it is, alcohol won't fix it.”