She's Hopeless Novels & Stories

Keith I can’t breathe. Hope’s body is limp in my arms, and I’m shaking so hard I don’t even know if I’m still holding her right. Her skin is too pale, too cold, like the warmth is draining from her faster than I can hold it in. “Emma!” I scream, my voice cracking from the strain. “EMMA!” The world around me blurs—voices are shouting, boots scraping against the stone floor, people shifting, reacting—but all I see is her. Hope. My mate. My goddess. Lifeless.

It's been a long time since she saw what was going to happen. Until she loses consciousness. Hope went to a very dark place. There are so many black flowers there. Shee suddenly became very nervous with fear. Her body was shaking and she could not walk. "W-Where am I?" she said in a shaky voice. No one's answering. So she chose to walk. Until Hope reaches a river. There was a woman there, she was sitting on a big rock while crying. Her brown hair is so beautifully wavy. She is also very white and looks like a Goddess in beauty.

The first photo I got of her where she is actually looking healthy and smiling for the camera. She was so beautiful. I don’t know how the Moon Goddess could put something so beautiful on this earth and then take it away so easily. It didn’t seem fair at all. I guess I didn’t have much faith in the Moon Goddess at the moment. “No Alpha tonight?” Peyton asked. “No. He still won’t come out of his room.” Miles said. “Well, you can’t blame him. That’s the way every decent mate feels when they lose their other half. Mine didn’t. But then again, he did order my death.” She said.

"Are they really that good? Sounds like you're speaking from personal experience." Sure enough, she gave me an affirmative answer. "Mhm. So long as you're willing to shell out the cash, you can have your pick of the litter. They're all young studs with rock-hard muscles and washboard abs, and they know exactly how to please a woman!" I had always known Sophia lived a wild life in private, but I hadn't expected her to be quite this bold. "But he's so good to you. He just has a little performance issue. Why don't you just put up with it?"

One day, I came across a live stream of my own house while scrolling through social media. "Check this out, guys. These are premium quality saffron. Look at the color of them! And I've got freshly caught cuttlefish here. Its tentacles are still moving. Let me show you how to kill this thing. "Today's challenge is cleaning the windows in a house that costs 2 billion dollars. Thank you for the gifts, guys!" Lilian Sherman was our housekeeper. She came from a rural village and had a hobby for livestreaming. Every day, she documented her life as a housekeeper working in a wealthy household.

They stripped her bare right on the spot and shaved her head bald, carving the word 'ho' on her face. The wife got away with it because she had a documented history of mental illness, and the people she brought with her were all psychiatric patients, too. There was nothing Sue could do but accept the humiliation. She was beaten until she passed out, then sent to the hospital by a kind-hearted colleague. When she woke up once more, she had lost her mind as well. Whenever she woke up, she would stare out the window and mutter, "I'm sorry… I'll never be a mistress again…"

Especially knowing that her life was in my hands. They usually begged. And even when they didn’t, they were just quiet. She was doing everything opposite that and it riled me dangerously. “Answer me, your Grace,” she drew mockingly. “If my soul is tainted, what do we call yours? Destroyed. Black. Hopeless.” “Shut the hell up!” I snapped. “Shut up.” She smirked, shaking her head slightly. “Yes, that is it. Hopeless must be the word. At least I could pray to the moon goddess and have a second chance. But you, you could never do that. Ever. You are doomed for eternity.”

I swatted his shoulder, "How's Zen?" "Exhausted. He could barely sleep, anxious that we'd get caught. His mate, Heather, is here as well. She's awesome, I swear, you'll love her." "I heard my name," a woman as short as me strode into the room. She wore a red sundress with floral print, her blonde hair cropped into a bob with chestnut highlights throughout. She had high cheekbones and a heart shaped face with a button nose and full lips. Her eyes shifted to me and their gray had my breath hitching. The resembled a full moon with flakes of black sparkling in their depths, "I'm Heather," she introduced with a bright smile showing off her pearly whites.

She was exhausted and she felt sick but there was nothing she could do about it. The voices in her head screamed in unison and told her to find a way out of the misery she was in. She took a moment to gather her thoughts but conflicting ideas corrupted her mind. She tried to fight but she didn’t know if it’s worth fighting for! She was hopeless!

I hear quiet steps and the door slowly opens. Shes been crying. The salty scent is all over her face. Her eyes are puffy. No makeup. Hair somewhat a mess. In track pants and tank. Even with all that, she's fucking stunning. My breath hitched as I absorb her beauty. Her beautiful amber eyes filled with sadness. "Hi." She squeaks. I fight a smile. "Can I come in?" I say in a stern yet respectful voice. She swallows. She steps out of the way and waves me into the house.