Stephen King Addiction Novels & Stories

Xavier asked “Yes, Xavier. Like death but not death per say. More like doom. It was just not it. The feeling kept me up all night and I don’t know if it’s even a normal thing. The darkness hung around even after it was gone and the weirdest thing was that Alice was drawn to whatever that darkness was. She was literally going to touch it like she was under some sort of spell” Jared said

“Yes...oh god, yes, Jake harder fill me up.” .... We’d been doing this for months now; sneaking quick, filthy fucks whenever Karen and Mark were out of the house, stolen blowjobs in the basement, him bending me over the kitchen counter the second their car pulled away or sometimes when they even in the house, just a nice quicky. I was addicted to my step-bro's cock. But ever since Mom started those strong sleeping pills for her insomnia, it had gotten reckless. Every single night around 10 to 11 she’d be snoring loud enough to hear through the thin walls, knocked out until morning. I was bit worried though.

Lucian nodded once and went back to his screen. --- The statement went out at seven twenty-eight. By eight fifteen it had been picked up by every major outlet. By nine it was the framing device for the entire story, which was what it was designed to be. Not Lucian Thorne brought down by collapse. Lucian Thorne who had seen what was coming and stepped back rather than let it take anyone else with it. It wasn't entirely true. It wasn't entirely false either. And it was the story that served the larger truth, which was that Adrian had built something corrupt and patient beneath the surface of legitimate industry and someone had spent four years making sure it couldn't stand.

“Fine. But I am not leaving.” Later that night, Dr. Adrian sat alone in his office. The lamp cast shadows across the room, highlighting the deep lines carved into his face. He pulled a small amber bottle from his desk, shaking two pills into his palm before swallowing them dry. His hands trembled faintly, the weight of years pressing hard. For a long moment, he sat there, eyes closed, breathing slow. Katherine… I am still keeping her safe. I will not fail.

“Open the door beside you and step inside. Try anything, and my bullets will bury you before you scream.” I gulped and shoved the door beside me. I had to obey him. I had to do everything to get out of here alive. It creaked open, revealing a cramped janitor’s closet. My heart lurched as darkness swallowed us, the stench of bleach and harsh detergent clawing at my throat. “I could paint these walls with your blood,” the man hissed, his voice thick with malice. “No one would mourn a nameless cockroach like you.” “Please…” Tears blurred my vision. “What do you want? Just… don’t…”

He raised it like a sick madman, displaying it in front of me. “Like an obedient little whore, you’ll shut that filthy mouth with this.” His approach became suffocating to the point heavy tears could no longer be restrained. They rebelled over my cheeks in terrifying amounts. Every drop burned my skin without mercy. “I’ll teach you what happens when you laugh at everything I say.” My body pressed against the wall. Being buried between those stones sounded kinder than sharing a room with this monster. My head moved in frantic refusal while my throat tightened. “But you lied. You’re addicted to alcohol and gambling. Why don’t you admit your filth?!”

It haunted me. Kirk said that the day after Ate Diana and Sia's death, I could no longer speak politely. Their family did all the necessary things for the wake and burial. I hardly remember that. I remember some things vaguely. I remember locking myself in my room, shutting all the people around me. I remember almost dying because I overdosed myself with pills. I saw an assistant so I was immediately taken to the hospital so I was rushed. Kirk and his parents decided I would be there first in a mental facility temporarily. I can't remember how my first months there felt. There are memories though, just a few. Though, I remember Kirk visiting me often. Months passed, and with the help of doct

"I know you have been stalking me. How long has it been going on like that? To meet your grandfather, you stoop this low, like paying those homeless people there to kill me? What? Did you plan to meet him in the morgue or graveyard?" Her back stiffened as Bash used that word. Graveyard. It triggered a memory that she had to shake away from her mind. "It's your...mental breakdown talking. It's okay. I can feel you." She lowered her gaze, not wanting Bash to see her red-rimmed eyes. Trying hard to keep her emotions at bay, she ranted, "That is normal after what happened to you in that street. People there can be violent because of poverty, unemployment, and addiction that an addict can't get r

But I did. Hell, he’s the only man who’s ever been inside you, the voice reminded me, twisting the knife. Your first. Your only. Of course you’re addicted. You don’t know any better. That thought was the most terrifying of all. Was this what it was always like? This all-consuming, degrading, incredible feeling? Or was it just him? Was Stephano some kind of sexual drug I’d gotten hooked on? And today, I was supposed to walk away from it. For Alex. Good, kind, safe Alex, who offered love and security and a life where I wouldn’t feel like a used dishrag every morning. A man who would probably be gentle, who would ask if I was okay, who would never dream of bending me over a couch and fucking me

she paused, "it's not good for you." Kevin felt his heart racing. So she cares about him. "I'm aware, but it's not just this," he said and Emma looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?" "I'm addicted to a lot of things that aren't good for my sanity, Emmeline," Kevin confessed and a little frown sat between her brows feeling a sense of vulnerability in his words. "But I can't give up. I can't help the way I feel," he continued and she felt as if he was not just referring to alcohol or anything else but something deeper. It felt as if- she felt as if he was talking about her.