She's Hopeless Novels & Stories

If she is truly committed to navigating the ruthless arena of her impending revenge, she cannot afford to leave a single thread of hope intact. By mid-afternoon, the tempest has dissolved into a dreary, suffocating metropolitan drizzle. Stepping through the heavy double doors of his hotel later that day, she is immediately met with a stagnant, heavy atmosphere. The presidential suite smells like minibar and bad decisions. Luna finds Julian on the floor of the living room, back against the sofa, several empty bottles arranged around him. He looks up when he hears her heels on the carpet, and the expression that moves across his face—relief, grief, hope arriving in the wrong order—makes someth

He stood up. " You can't just shut me off " "Michelle I'll go talk to my mom, What's your problem? and to remind you it's 12:30 please" " Your hobby is to get on people's nerves right? you're crazy"She retort sharply and stride back to the room. " Yeah, I'm crazy"He shout after her and in a lowered voice "And you too" Hope slowly put some oil in the pan her mind on the dream she'd last night,she saw her friend trying to revive a half dead man, who'd obviously fell off the stairs and ended up with blood all over him as he lands beside the stairs.

She can't feel her breath anymore,her courage is gone ,her strength is gone and her hope is slowly going away . There is no one to come to her rescue,no one to listen to her and no one to feel her pain with her . Soon,she sighs again.She tries her best to calm her nervousness, although it seems her strength is failing her already.She is not ready to give up easily,with one last and deep breath,She soon comes back to her senses .

Hell, she was matching into her death. A death trap. This is her funeral. She was very well aware. He passed the message, and she got it, she really did get it. Home sweet hell. But she was lost in her hopelessness. Desperation tearing her at the seams. She could hear the distant cheer of whosever was present at the wedding but her goal for now is to reach the alter. There's no pleasure in this neither did it reflect on her face. She didn't even care how she looked, whether she was smiling or not wasn't her business.

“Everything is going as per our plan. She started showing her soft side to me. Also, I found out that she's unwell because of working overtime.” My eyes widened, “Huh? What do you mean?” “Well, it's just Insomnia.” He said, “This is a chance for me to be with her always.” “Good,” My shoulders relaxed, “Now you might get to know more about her as she spends most of her time with you.” I smirked. His face remained still. “Yes, as you say.” “What exactly is her problem?” I was worried. No, just curious. “Sl–Insomnia, as I mentioned already. This is also a secret between us. Now you know it too.” He said.

What are you saying Curtis? Her eyes lifted slowly, as though it weighed down by years of silence, but within them flickered something fragile like the first spark of dawn piercing through the thickest night. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t certain, yet it was there, trembling but alive. Hope shimmered in her gaze, a quiet glow that dared to believe in better days, even while her lips remained still. To anyone watching closely, it was as if her soul had leaned forward, hoping to find something that wasn't there before. Hoping to find some light.

… Back in the studio, I threw myself fully into my work. I didn't know how much time passed before the model was finally finished. I packed it carefully, called a courier, and had it sent to the hotel Theo had named. Once everything was done, the last bit of strength holding me upright collapsed. The prolonged focus and crushing pressure made my vision go black, and I fell hard to the floor. When I came to, noisy voices filled my ears. "Isn't she the wife of Theo Bennett?" "Yeah, that's her! Doesn't her husband flaunt that actress Hannah Moore everywhere? She probably got sick from the stress."

that was seeking a new, younger host. Hope stood at the center of the spinning floor. She was no longer the ten-year-old girl who had laughed in the South. Her hair was a roiling cloud of Black-Emerald-Gold Plasma, her eyes two burning portals of Absolute, Un-Filtered Calculation. She didn't look at me with love; she looked at me with Assessment. "You have broken the hunger of the father, Mother," Hope spoke, her voice a perfect, melodic resonance that echoed the First Luna’s own frequency.

I put my phone against a cup of instant noodles and turned on the camera to record. The woman on the screen was in an ostentatious red dress and smiling wickedly. “Hey, old man, dowdy lady, and, um, Jonah…” I said. My voice was a little hoarse. I quickly cleared my throat and acted like everything was fine. “By the time you see this video, I’ll already be on the other side and living it up. Don’t cry. I’m a bad person, and I’ll be causing trouble down there for the devil. I was lying to you about that 500 thousand dollars. I’m not that greedy…”

They all came to a conclusion that maybe it is because she seemed very innocent, that older men would always prefer younger women. After leaving the voicemail, she got up from her bed. She slid the door which handle was made of golden metal, walked out into the balcony and spread her arms in front of her, touched the metal railing which was made of wood, and the balcony wall made of glass. She closed her eyes and breathed, then put her right hand on her chest. She opened her eyes, and whispered, "I am going after you, Jonathan Albertson. No matter what." She went back in the room, slid the door closed behind her and dialed a number. "Hi," she said cheerfully. "Yes, please, a ticket to Los An