Shame A Novel Novels & Stories

We are an island, and I am about to drown in the waters surrounding it. I count the days, then the weeks. My body, this intimate enemy, will soon betray me. In two months, maybe less. A gentle curve, imperceptible to others, but for me it will be like a flag raised, a public confession written on my skin. I cannot let this happen. I cannot bear their looks, their whispers, their disgust disguised as concern. Shame is an acid that corrodes everything, even hope.

said Damien with his eyes on the road. Sighing to myself, I knew I had no choice and the thought that he could smell what I had just done was now a different kind of shame I never wanted to experience ever again. Do you remember me asking you whether you knew what shame was, well, flash news because this type of shame was like the feeling of getting the worst of the scores after bragging to everyone that you did so well in the exam. This was how this shame felt and there was the sudden urge to bury myself in my bag if that was even possible.

Such a ludісrоuѕ claim wоuld have mаdе me thе сеntеr оf a соmmunіtу ѕсаndаl, аnd there’s nо way I wаѕ gоіng to lеt thаt happen. Thе ѕtоrіеѕ we hеаr аbоut vісtіmѕ of сrіmе аrе аll truе. Yоu dо blаmе yourself, you do fееl ashamed. I did, аnd I couldn’t gеt out frоm undеr thаt shame.

I could walk out into the darkness and disappear before anyone realizes what happened. But I can't move. My feet are lead. My knees are water. I look at my hands. They are shaking. They look... dirty. I rub them against my jeans. Rub. Rub. The friction burns, but the feeling doesn't go away. It isn't dirt. It is shame. It is a thick, oily film that coats my skin. It seeped into my pores when Aureliano looked at me with that expression of pure, unadulterated horror.

"Stop, please let me go. I didn't do this purposely. Please stop, listen to me. No, don't do this. I'm sorry. No, stop," "STOP," Ashlyn shrieked. She opened her eyes and found herself naked on a bed. She instantly forwarded her hand to take the duvet to cover herself but felt extreme pain in her body, especially in the lower region. All the things that happened last night flashed in front of her eyes, and she cried on her fate.

I still hate the dark. I curl up on my side and cry. I cry from fear, from loss, from sorrow and loneliness. How could I even entertain the thought that everything would be okay? That I could live here and be content? My panic at entering the mansion and having all the memories and experiences hitting me face on, show that I’m not okay with this. I can’t live here. I can’t be with Alessio. I even forgot about Nick in my panic. How can the fear even wipe away the most important person in my life? Shame washes over me as I imagine how it must have felt for Nick to see me act like that. It feels like hours before I hear the lock on the door turn. Hours alone with my thoughts, fear and shame. I

he said after holding my chin in between his index finger and thumb. I slapped his hand and said " it's called shame which I am feeling when you looked at me, I felt disgusted, to puke on your face and in your eyes to make you blind so that I could hide away from your eye raping. you don't know how humiliated I felt whenever you came near me or touch me calling it your sick rights or whatever you have cooked in your head. it called feeling shame Which you won't understand since you are unaware about it because only those people feel shame who have the reputation, pride, honour, name, respect in society or in their own eyes but you have nothing " I wiped my tears away which unknowingly gallop

And after last night, after him, I was the weakest thing alive. The grass was still damp beneath my bare feet. I didn’t care. Each step away from the packhouse felt like breathing again, like maybe I could scrape off the shame clinging to my skin. But shame doesn’t wash off. It burns. It burns hotter than tears. Every whisper, every laugh from the night before echoed in my head. Bethelina ’s voice, sweet and venomous,still slithered through my thoughts. Did you really think the Moon’s mistake could make you his equal?

His voice carried through the silence, stern yet deliberate. “Do you accept your shame?” Her voice shook, but it was clear: “Yes.” The whip cracked, sharp, echoing against the walls. Her gasp turned into a moan. The room seemed to breathe with her, every sound amplified. I froze in the doorway, heat flooding my cheeks, my thighs pressing together. Shame curled low in my belly — not because of what I saw, but because of how much I wanted to be her. Cassandra’s lips brushed my ear again. “This is only the beginning, Evelyn. Shame here is not punishment. It is freedom.”

And while I still felt like I had done what I had to do, the guilt kept clawing at me. But then I realized it wasn’t guilt. It was shame. Shame was heavier. It burned in places I didn’t know existed. It seeped into the spaces where my rage had once lived. And even as I tried to convince myself that Sienna would have found out the truth eventually, it didn’t make the shame go away. My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden crash of my study door being thrown open. I flinched, then glanced through the blinds and saw it was Nico. Relief passed through me, but only for a moment—his expression was unreadable, except for the fury in his eyes.