Shatter Me Vk Novels & Stories

Someone had caught it all—filmed from a perfect angle, edited into a slow-motion loop, and posted online within the hour. It had gone viral before I even made it home. The internet does what it always does. There is music. Dramatic violin. Some versions with an explosion behind her as if she is some kind of superhero. The comments fly faster than I can keep up; When karma works overtime. This punch cured my seasonal depression. That chick just ended the patriarchy in under three seconds. Better accuracy than in his last ten matches combined. She really said: VAR this, bitch. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of every woman standing up and applauding.

The sound of glass shattering against the wall was satisfying, almost cathartic. I didn’t stop there. I grabbed another picture and threw it with all my strength, watching as it smashed into a million tiny pieces on the floor. Then another. And another. It felt good, so good to destroy every reminder of what we had been, of the man I thought I knew.

Liam stood nearby, silent, unreadable. "Come," Ella said softly, guiding me to the couch. "I'm sorry. Was I shouting too much?" I tried to smile, to ease her guilt. But it came out twisted, hollow. "It wasn't your shouting," I said, my voice weak. "It was the glass. When it shattered, it... brought something back." "Oh, dear." Her hand closed gently over mine, trying to steady the tremble. "Here," Liam said quietly, offering me a glass of water. I stared at him for a moment, surprised. Then I took it. The cold water slid down my throat and seemed to calm the storm in me, at least for now.

Pulling one of the frame pieces out of the mess, I heaved it with all my strength and shattered the glass. I could get in now, but the snake could also get out. It dropped to the ground and headed for the opening, then shied back, moving slowly and gingerly. The broken glass cut at its scales. It was so desperate for food, it came at me anyway and let the glass slice it to ribbons. That gave me an idea. I picked up a particularly large shard of glass and waited.

My cloud was broken when a strong, smooth voice commanded, "Stop!" My eyes flit open and my heart stutters. My God, did I mess up? London stares at the both of us, an unreadable expression on his face. I messed up, didn't I? "What's the matter?" Jackie sasses, a brow raised in his direction. "I don't need to hear anymore," he replied with a shrug, "You both made the cut." "That means?" I ask unsurely, narrowing my eyes. It means you're both in," he answered with a small smile, "Welcome to Crash Course Rebellion."

This get away is more of a toxins related one. I need to get my mind off this bullshit. Now. S H A T T E R E D "ASSHOLE!" I grunted while laying another punch to the jocks now broken, bloody, damaged face. He was almost knocked out cold on the dirty alleyway ground as I kept his body pinned down which was almost two times bigger than mine. He pissed me off at the wrong time. I looked up for a split second during my chain of punches and that's when I saw it. The red and blue flashing lights.

“I’ll try. But right now… you’re toxic.” The call cut off. I sat frozen, the word toxic reverberating in my skull until it drowned out everything else. My pulse roared in my ears. My breaths came shallow. Everything I’d built, everything I’d bled for—gone, shattered like glass on pavement. With shaking hands, I tried to call Ethan. He'd know something. He'd know what to do, which string to pull, whom to call. But before I could shift the car into gear, a burst of headlights swerved across my windshield. Tires screamed. A black van cut and pinned me in.

I scream. The shard comes free. The spire collapses.

In that room, amidst the shattered fragments of his shattered dreams, Vihaan found the strength to face the truth, to acknowledge his pain, and to embark on a journey of self-renewal. As the tears eventually subsided, leaving trails of salt-stained cheeks in their wake, Vihaan took a deep breath, drawing upon the reservoir of resilience within him. Though broken, he knew he was not defeated. With resolve in his eyes, he wiped away the remnants of tears and vowed to rise from the depths of despair, ready to rebuild his spirit and rediscover his worth.

CHAPTER 64: BREAKING DOWN. VIKTOR. I never knew what shattered glass feel like. Honestly no one knows. How hurtful it is. How painful it is. Or how sharp and dangerous it is. I have always broken many things in my life and in my house. Many. I have broken my television when I was angry. I have broken my phone when I am messed up. I have broken glass table, glasses and cups and bottles and much more. Partially everything a house contains.