Self-mutilation Book Novels & Stories

The book slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a dull thud. I didn’t pick it up. My eyes burned from reading, but I reached for another one anyway, dragging it off the shelf with shaking fingers. Dust scattered as I flipped it open, scanning lines too fast to fully process. “Severed bonds often result in—” I slammed it shut. “Useless,” I muttered, tossing it onto the growing pile at my feet. Another book followed. Then another. Titles blurred together—Fated Pairings, Ritual Disruptions, Wolf Instinct and Divine Order.

Zane caught up with me as he held my arm and asked, “When will I see you again?” “Soon,” I smiled at him and then left. *** TRIGGER WARNING!! — This part of the chapter contains vivid fictional description of self-harm. The attempts were made by the author, who has a personal history of self-harm herself. This is not meant to hurt any sentiments and if you are prone to such content, kindly skip this one and read chapter 35 in which everything about this part will be explained, without the descriptions and graphic content. -Amelia's POV- I reached home in a haste, a little upset that I couldn’t spend more time with Zane and my friends, but anyway, I know I have to be mentally prepared to hear

"I tried drying with iron, but I burned the pages." Who dries a book with an iron? Couldn't he borrow my hair dryer? "My book. Where is it?" "Wait here." He ducked into his room whilst I tried to control my anger. Alina, it was just a book. It didn't matter. You could buy another. You could read it again and paste the notes. But that was my book. Nobody messes with my book. He burnt my book. He murdered my book. He was a murderer. "Your book." I stared at the almost destroyed cover and opened to find dark brown iron marks and spilled coffee marks. "We will go to book shopping."

If he’d given it any thought—and he had to admit he hadn’t considered it at all from her perspective—he would have assumed a few nights in his bed would alleviate any of her concerns over his criminal ties. He jammed his fists against the support frame in concert, crying out as agony shot through his hands. Still, he did it again and again, seeing it as penance for what he had done. One of his knuckles flared with pain beyond the others with his final hit to the wood, and Shane dropped to his knees on the mat. His harsh breath exploded from him in short gasps. Hanging his head, he clenched his hands into fists. Blood and torn skin provided gruesome proof of his self?mutilation, but it didn’t

( Book is currently ongoing and available only on Good novel. 2. Depressed ( love yourself ): A unique book on learning to love oneself and building strong self-esteem... Also a book on Self-discovery. ( Book is still ongoing and is Available on N******t but coming soon to Good novel. ) 3. My True friend: A book about, Two girls who loved and cared for each other to the extent that they were ready to put their lives at risk for the other. ( Book is completed and is available on Good novel, W******l, and Inknitt. )

"I need the anatomy book you've got—full-on body display and the one murderers look for.." The man licks his lips, swallowing before seeming to open a secret drawer underneath his desk. "I know what you need; this book is named, 'How To Kill Like A Serial Killer,' and it's everything you're searching for, ma’am." I smile. "How much?" Two minutes later, I hurry to leave the bookstore. I ended up buying the goddamn book and some other anatomy book I’m obsessed with to keep me up all night and ignore Axel. These books will surely keep me from trying to kill Axel.

So well, Malisa and Aiden's story hasn't ended yet as there would be a part two. I'll inform you guys about it when it's out... In the meantime, you guys can check out my other books. The Better Place : A very emotional story about decisions and how they affect our future. It's dedicated to my deceased friend, Jemmy.... ( Book is completed with 180 chapters . Available on, Goodnovel and Web Novel. ) Depressed ( love yourself ) : A unique book on learning to love oneself and building a strong self esteem... Also a book on Self discovery. ( Book is completed and is Available on N******t. )

“Ah that sure was refreshing, too bad I didn’t get to see that beautiful lady. She was really pretty with her glasses and her hair tied like that, She’s exactly my type of girl. Oh well, that’s too bad, I should go to the supermarket the-” OW...AAH... Accidentally bumping to someone after talking to myself is really kind of embarrassing ugh. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I’m walking-” “Ah it’s the beautiful glasses lady” he thought to himself while being flustered. “It’s okay, I only fell down. Well then, see you later glasses lady.” “Ah you too? What? Glasses lady? Me?” “Aargh, that was so embarrassing, I’m never going to do something like that again.”

no, I arranged his bed again that I had scattered, cause no matter how mad I was for burning my project up, I still didn't wanted any fucking trouble when he was back, so that he wouldn't kill me out of anger for messing with his stuff, but as soon as am about to quietly return back to my own lane to wait innocently, and yell at that dickhead when he was back about why on earth he burnt my project up, my curious eyes, yes, the same eyes that would make him kill me, drifted to the side, and I see a black book placed perfectly on the side of his bed "I didn't even know he had something like this, but it must have fell from under his pillow" I told myself as I picked it up to return it back to

it had coffee brown pages and if I knew anything that book was going to get me wrecked and I wasn’t ready for another heartache I bought the book anyway along with a small notebook, and left the store with a paper bag in one hand and a strange weightlessness in the other. why do I always know what's bad for me but still end up going for it. was this another form of self harm? or rather another form of sociopathy? I had so many questions but so little answers I ended up at a nearby café with outdoor seating. It was nearly empty, save for a couple whispering across a candlelit table and a man reading alone near the back.