Shatter Me Book Free Novels & Stories

Then my mind wanders off to Antonio words: "Is not really the matter of being a softy dumbass. I just find the story similar to what happened to you. I'm dead serious! You've got to read this book, perhaps after reading you can tell me if I was wrong or right" I don't know when my fingers has typed the title of the book and it's author and now I was at A****n Kindle page. In the page, the book cover is designed with white background and then it had a broken shaped hearts on the background with the title written in red 'Shattered Hearts' and it's author name below the cover Micaela Alvarado. Seeing this book again sent turbulence to my heart like in the afternoon when I'd seen it.

I am a complete loser. I am immobile and irresponsive to whatever is happening to me or around me. I motivate myself not to think about him, then, the sight of a crow decides otherwise. I woke up and realized I didn’t think of him and the rest of the day will be good, then, someone use a lighter, and the sound shatters me into pieces I don’t know how to collect. I kept myself busy with loads of work, but the sight of books squeeze my lungs, for, I almost that I could finally attend an art school, live my dream. A song, a black shirt familiar cologne, smell of sweat even if it is my own, rain and coffee, and every speck has now become like guns shooting his memories to break the already broke

FREYA POV The ringing in my ears was louder than the explosion of the bottle. I stood frozen. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, and for a split second the old me wanted to curl into a ball and scream. I could feel the cold sweat breaking out on my skin while my hand still hovered near the door handle, trembling just a fraction. I didn't let it drop, though. I forced my spine to stay straight even though my knees felt like water. I couldn’t breathe or move; I suddenly felt it. A warm, slow tickle started at my hairline and began to roll down my forehead. I reached up, and my fingers grazed the skin. It’s blood. A tiny piece of glass must have flown and slid across my

Other days, it was like she couldn't stand to be anywhere near me. "You know she's going through a lot," Candy told me one day as she sat by my bed, helping me exercise my arms. "I know you have, too... but you had a lot more warning. When you finally came back, she stayed in your room with her hopes high as a kite, just waiting for her prince to wake up so the two of you could have your fairytale ending. After all of that, just to have to give you up, she's... I'd say she's pretty damn close to shattered. I nodded, wincing as she rotated my shoulder. It was still very sensitive after I'd been shot. "I understand," I grunted. I had learned how to talk again, but it was a hell of an effort ea

"Oh come on, little birdy, don't be like that! You know you're only gonna fall right into my lap. Think they got your back? Hell, you know that you're trapped. Just give into temptation, let my music fix that." "Fix what? I'm perfectly fine where I'm at. Can't you tell by my smile?" "A smile you're that you're faking! I read between the lines. Come, on you know my music makes you feel alive." "Alive?" "Alive, Don't deny that fact. If you wanna rage, just let go and relax. Let my music wash over you and just like that you'll be reborn into the person you are at heart." "But I wanna be good!"

It has floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. I scoot closer, plucking one of the books from the shelves and scanning through it. Apparently, it’s an erotic book, given the naughty image of two ladies on their knees as they simultaneously blow a man’s cock, their hands bound tightly at their backs. It’s titled ‘A Dom’s Way Of Spitroasting The Subs.” I turn the pages, and each chapter is transcribed into x-rated images. My pussy quivers when I see the image of the two sluts turned upside down on an inversion table while the Dom treats them with his cock.

I continue to smash and destroy everything within reach, each crash and clatter echoing the turmoil in my mind. A framed picture of Graham and me, once a symbol of our partnership, now feels like a mockery. I grab it and throw it with all my might, watching as it shatters into fragments. The glass cuts my hand, but I barely feel it through the haze of rage and despair. The bookshelf is next. I yank books from the shelves, flinging them across the room. The titles blur together as they hit the walls and floor with dull thuds. The room, once a place of order and control, is now a chaotic mess, mirroring the ruin of my life.

The memoir she once swore she’d never write. Each keystroke was a heartbeat. Each sentence, a reclaiming. They said silence was survival. But silence was the weapon that killed me the slowest. Hours passed. The rain outside turned to a downpour, tapping against the glass like impatient fingers. But she kept writing. By the time dawn touched the horizon, Alina had twenty pages. Pages that bled truth, grief, strength — and hope. She saved the file, titled it “Shattered Promises — Draft 1.”

Lauren snatched the shard from my hand, her slender fingers trembling faintly under the sunlight. The moment she clearly made out the letters engraved on it, the once arrogant and imposing Miss Hayes suddenly found her breathing turning rapid.

The sun was warm as its rays filtered through the windows. I tore up the DNA test report. Finally, all the love and hatred in the past could be sealed away in these torn-up fragments now scattered across the floor.