Shattered Girl Novels & Stories

I move around the stage to the front just as London comes in with his cue. "You know who I am," he sings in a drawling manner, "You know you want to give in. You think you've gotten rid of me?" "Well think again," he whispers. "No!" I sing, taking my cue, "You think you got me figured out? You think I'm all stars and rainbows! I'm a good girl, church girl, nerd girl! You make me wanna do unsavory things!" "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."

The trauma that had befallen her had left an indelible mark on her fragile soul, and she felt utterly shattered in its wake. Rara found herself grappling with the cruel betrayals and inexplicable horrors that had plagued her life. Each passing moment seemed to erode the resilience she had so desperately clung to, leaving her teetering on the precipice of a breaking point. Uncertainty and despair loomed large, threatening to consume her unstable mind.

I hit end call. That witch thinks she can get next to me again. I laugh at the thought. I don’t care what anybody says about it. She thinks that she can lie to me, betray me, and everything is going to be okay. I shake my head. What am I saying? Of course, that’s what she thinks. That girl has always been trouble, but against my better judgment, I overlooked that. That’s a mistake I will never make again. She’s a spoiled rich girl who is used to getting what she wants. Her father babied her because her mother abandoned her, and she was his only child. She’s crazy, and spoiled all rolled up in one, and that’s some shit I want nothing to do with.

‘That’s not our Bobbie. ‘You changed.’ ‘Slut.’ ‘Dirty.’ ‘Whore.’ My hand found anything I could grab on to. The soap holder is the closest one to me. I slammed it on the mirror, creating an ugly web like a crack on it. The image of the girl shattered as well. All angles show a different view of her sorrowful face, but she still remained there. Just broken. I did it again and again until the mirror was no more but tiny shards of glass. But why do I still see the broken girl even if the mirror is not there anymore?

Another painting had a war scene with blood all around. Shama moved towards another group of painting. A girl was standing alone in a storm without any emotion on her face. A strong vibe came from that girl but still she was weak. Another painting had a girl wiping off her tears and was glaring. Her hands were bleeding as she clenched a mirror and she walked on Shattered pieces of mirror. A broken heart was there in the background. Another painting had a cheerful girl with a butterfly in her hand. Her eyes were filled with hope.

The glass shattered, a hundred sharp, glittering pieces falling to the floor, a final, violent rejection of the girl she used to be. She stood there, breathing heavily, her chest heaving with the force of her exertion, her knuckles bleeding from a small cut on her hand. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t cry. She just stared at the empty space where the mirror used to be, a space that now reflected nothing but the wall behind her. She was not just a servant. She was not just an omega. She was a survivor. And she would not be a secret anymore.

I grip the cold marble rail for support. I’m still breathing. Somehow. But I’m hollowed out. My night of triumph collapses into dust. Into pain. Into a bitter, silent grief. I slide to the floor. Cold against my skin. A shattered woman no one sees. And I cry, quietly. Broken. Alone. Whatever was done against me, destroyed me forever.

"…shattered. More than before." The raw vulnerability in her words, the fear laid bare, shattered something inside me. It wasn't anger. It was a profound, gut-wrenching understanding of the damage I'd done. The trust I'd annihilated. She was giving me everything, stepping off the cliff, and her only safety net was the terrifying belief that this time, I wouldn't let her fall.

They melt back into the bewildered crowd as quickly as they appeared. The Child stands immobile, observing the spot where the shard vanished. Their expression is unreadable, a mask of icy detachment. "Fragment acquired by hostile entities. Containment breach probability: elevated." The rain falls. The city moves on, oblivious. The woman weeps over her shattered mug. The loop is broken, but reality feels thinner. Brittle. Kieran is silent inside me, a spent echo. The Child is a statue carved from starlight and indifference. And the Council has a piece of the broken mirror. A key.

It was time to move on. The Shadows convulsed and oozed towards the urn with a ravenous intensity. But before I could change my mind, they engulfed it… shattering it into 1,000 pieces. Silver and black shards exploded into the air, piercing my chest and scattering across the room like a dark, malevolent rain. I fell to my knees as my heart shattered, once again, the shards piercing my very soul. I clasped my hand over my heart, struggling to draw breath, and fought to stem the tide of tears that threatened to overwhelm me.