Spring Broken Novels & Stories

Still waiting. Not forcing. Just existing. Like he knows I haven’t actually solved anything by locking this door. My fingers tremble slightly. And for the first time since everything started collapsing— I feel it clearly. This isn’t a triangle. This is something fractured. And I am standing exactly in the middle of the break. Holding pieces that don’t want to stay together anymore.

I stumble, wrench slipping. A butterfly’s wings tap against my scar, a metronome counting down to ruin. Its scales powder the old wound, and suddenly I’m three years old again, choking on attic dust as Esteban’s belt *cracks*—not the wrench’s dull thud, but the hiss of leather splitting air. *“Mírame cuando te rompo, cobarde,”* he’d snarled. Look at me when I break you. The butterfly’s proboscis digs into my brow, syphoning the memory like nectar.

"Is it possible to be cold and hot at the same time?" He chuckles and removes his lips from my skin. "We probably shouldn't stay here too long." I grab his hand as he turns to look at the frozen waterfall again. "We should come back here when it's thawed out," I say. Oak nods. "Yeah, spring break, I guess." There's a sad edge to his tone, but I know after he cut me off earlier, not to mention the dilemma we're in. "Unless you're bored with me by then," he jests.

In the end, I told myself it was wrong to be petty toward a grieving widow, so I was the one who gave in and apologized. Later, when Ryan wanted to put his ring back on, he couldn't find it anywhere. Luckily, I still had the original design sketches. Since my own ring was getting worn out, I decided to order a brand-new set, identical to the first. But before the rings even arrived, our bond had already shattered. I instinctively rubbed the faint pale mark where my ring used to sit. My old band was still sitting on that table back at the Pack House. "I don't want them. Even if they're brand new and identical, our bond is fractured. There's no going back."

Elodie was still nagging incessantly. I couldn’t bear this humiliation any longer, I didn’t want to stay here for another second. “Jessica, stop right there!” Lucas grabbed my wrist and pulled me back with such force that it felt like he might crush my bones. “Lucas, look, I need to treat my wound!” I winced in pain as the blisters on my arm had burst, revealing raw, red flesh that was horrifying to look at. Lucas glanced at my arm and eventually let go of my wrist.

Axen looked at me without a speck of emotion on his face and said. "I accept. Our bond is broken with the blessing of the Goddess.' Axen tried and failed to hold back another howl. In the end he let loose a loud heart breaking cry that felt like a dagger to my heart, then fell back hitting the hard Chapel floor with a thud.

Johnson said, which I couldn't agree more with. After about 15 minutes Ella woke up from the drugs that the nurses put her under and the doctor came in. It's a good thing that she woke up when she did because we're leaving Virginia tomorrow and going to our next show which is in Nebraska. And I absolutely refuse to leave Ella here no matter how bad I want to visit Omaha. "So we ran a few test and it seems as though Ella is suffering a concussion and a sprained wrist." The doctor said while looking at his clipboard.

By the time I stepped outside the building, King and Giselle were already waiting near the front steps. "You look like you've been through a war," King said the moment he saw me. "I feel like it." I sighed. "Come on. I'll buy you coffee." He chuckled. "I'm broke." King raised an eyebrow. "Since when?" I hesitated for the briefest moment. Since this morning, when Ryan had thrown me out of his car before school and I'd been too embarrassed to admit I barely had enough money left to get through the week. Instead, I shrugged. "I... lost my money." The lie came easier than I wanted it to.

In his time as a True Crime writer, Byron had interviewed many people, many of them disturbed or troubled in some way. In these interviews, he would often run up against what he called The Breakdown, to the point where, due to the pressures of telling him their story a person would hit an unknown well of feelings and just… shut down, usually in a maelstrom of tears. They always recovered but it was at a point that Byron always hated, even dreaded.

Anna went on her knees and gently picked up the frame. She gasps when she saw how badly broken it has become. "Oh my God, how did this happen?" she cried out touching the picture of the broken frame and then a tiny piece of the broken glass pierced her right middle finger. "Ouch" she squealed and threw off the frame on the floor and held her right middle finger tight and blood gushed out.