Steven Universe I Am My Monster Novels & Stories

As the end of the year approaches, my wife, Sylvia Small, who is five months into her pregnancy, accidentally falls into a lake. Our neighbor who is a police officer, Raven Weber, jumps in and rescues her. Unfortunately, she slips into a coma after her heroic feat. As I rush over, I see that a crowd has gathered at the scene. Sylvia is drenched from head to toe, wrapped up tightly in a blanket. Water droplets keep dripping from the tips of her hair. "Are you alright, Sylvia?" I ask, drawing near. The moment Sylvia sees me, she moves toward me and burrows herself into my arms. She clings to me like she is clinging for dear life. "You're finally here, Zach!" she exclaims emotionally. I frown and push her away. "Just say what you have to say. This suit is expensive. Don't dirty it," I said indifferently. My words make Sylvia's eyes go wide with disbelief and shock. But that only lasts for a second before an anxious look replaces it. She holds my arms firmly and says in a choked voice, "Officer Weber is in a coma because of me. Please transfer a sum of money to me so that I can thank her for saving my life." I glance at Sylvia impatiently and reply, "What's that got to do with me? Why should I transfer you my money so that you can give it to her?"

For three long years, I was trapped in a toxic relationship with Edwin Kent.During those three years, he started by verbally insulting and controlling me, but eventually escalated to physical violence. Not only did he drain my finances to support his family and lavish my money on his "goddess", but he also impregnated me three times, leaving me to face the emotional and physical toll of abortions alone.Despite the repeated disappointments, I remained blind to the truth. It wasn't until one day when I overheard him asking his goddess, "When will you become my girlfriend?"His goddess laughed and asked, "Aren't you already in a relationship with her, scum?"Edwin nonchalantly responded, "She's the one who won't let go of me. I've always loved you."That was when reality finally slapped me in the face. I left behind my scarred heart and returned to the embrace of my wealthy family.But Edwin refused to let me go. He persistently challenged the boundaries of me and my family.Finally, I couldn't tolerate it anymore. Trash should be thrown into the garbage dump, not wandering around and bothering people.

My husband Dante, Don of the Moretti family, was killed in a gang crossfire. I was devastated, because the same day, I’d also found out that my IVF injection had worked. I was pregnant. The Moretti didn’t want me to spiral. So they called in Dante’s twin brother, Ash Moretti, to help around. I felt both guilty and grateful until I overheard them talking in the study. “It was Ash who died. Why would you make us tell Harper it was you?” His father asked. Dante’s voice. “I only married her because you promised me the Don’s seat.” Then Gianna’s voice. “Dante had given her a child. That alone should’ve been enough.” So. It wasn’t my husband who died. It was his brother. And my husband and his sister in law thought this was his clean exit. As he wished, I gave it to him. When the doctor told me the fetus had less than a ten percent chance of survival, I agreed to terminate. And along with reclaiming everything else I had once given the Moretti, I walked away from his life—for good.

I was given a second chance on the day my mate chose another she-wolf over me. In my last life, I fought to keep him. I begged, argued, and stood in his way, only to watch him blame me for everything he lost. On the day of our bonding ceremony, he made me pay for loving him. This time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. When he wanted to take her to the Frost Territory, I packed his bag myself. When she smiled behind his back and called me replaceable, I let her. If he loved her so much, I would step aside. But the day he finally realized I was no longer waiting at the altar, I had already walked into another ceremony, in another pack, beside a man who had never once made me feel second best. My old mate thought I was teaching him a lesson. He was wrong. I was setting myself free.

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.

On the day I was awarded the highest honor in the vampire world—the Order of the Night—I died. Three hours after my death,my parents, my brother, and my Consort had just finished celebrating my sister’s Nightfall Commencement. While my sister Olivia was posting warm, smiling family photos on the vampire social network,I was locked in the basement,dragging my tongue across my phone screen,desperately trying to make a call for help. The only person who answered was my Consort—Julian. He said only one thing: “Bella, stop acting. Olivia’s Nightfall Commencement is important. Stop throwing a tantrum.” That was the ninety-ninth time they had disappointed me.And the last. I lay in a pool of blood so dark it was nearly black,my breathing fading into nothing. They thought I was just sulking somewhere,hiding as usual. They believed that if they taught me a lesson,I would crawl back obediently, like I always did. But they didn’t know. I had never left the house. I was already dead.

I came home from a night shift and caught my husband in bed with his secretary. After the screaming and the chaos, I ran out like a woman losing her mind. Derek chased after me. We ended up at the river, fighting. Somehow we both fell in. He nearly drowned trying to save me—the doctors said the oxygen deprivation had caused severe brain damage. When he woke up, he could barely function. No memory. No independence. He followed me around like a lost child. "Wifey, don't leave me. I'm scared." Looking at that helpless, broken man, I gritted my teeth and held this family together. The secretary vanished without a trace. Six years passed. Derek slowly seemed to recover. He was gentle with me, attentive, loving. I even got pregnant with our second child. Then came the family dinner. Derek knocked back two glasses of whiskey and suddenly slammed his hand on the table, his face twisted with frustration. "My oldest boy is already in first grade, and I haven't made it to a single parent-teacher conference!" I thought his brain was glitching again. MY sister-in-law Vanessa rushed to cover his mouth, but he shoved her away and let out a cold laugh. "You really thought the water scrambled my brains?" "Chloe gave me a son. I haven't forgotten about him for a single day!"

I woke up in the past, on the eve of being traded by my family to that controlling mafia Don. Last life, his suffocating “love” and rigid rules strangled me to death. This time, watching my father’s eager face, I just smiled. “The engagement? Give it to your precious illegitimate daughter.” I walked away. Using the skills he forced me to learn, I secured my escape. On the day of his wedding to my replacement, I boarded a plane far from this gilded hell. Just before leaving, I pressed a button. The family mansion—the symbol of my old prison—erupted into a fireball behind me. Now, I’m thriving under the Mediterranean sun, free and wild. The once-untouchable Don is scouring the globe for me, unraveling. He found me at an airport, fell to his knees, his eyes desperate, begging me to come back. I lowered my sunglasses and looked at this stranger, my ex-fiancé, my voice utterly calm. “Do I know you?”

During a company team-building event, I collapse from a seafood allergy. Yet my fiance, Frederick Scott, rushes Beatrice Sutton, who only twisted her ankle, to the hospital. I come close to dying because I don't get treatment in time. Later, Frederick explains, "Beatrice is my best friend's sister. He's seriously ill now, and I promised him I'd take care of his sister. I swear I'll keep my distance from her from now on." This isn't the first time I've heard an excuse like that. On our fifth anniversary, Beatrice accidentally deleted a work file and burst into tears out of worry. When Frederick heard about it, he left me stranded on a mountain and drove back to the office himself. I spent a whole day and night walking home through the rain. On Christmas, Beatrice's house lost power. Frederick was worried that she might be scared of being alone, and he rushed over to her place without even telling me, leaving me out in the snow waiting for him until dawn. These kinds of things have happened countless times. Afterward, he always brushes them off with the same excuse. I've long since lost all faith in him and no longer believe a single word he says. I pick up my phone and call the company that keeps reaching out to me. "I've decided to accept your offer from last time. I'll bring the core technology with me."

As the daughter of the Silvermane Pack's strongest Alpha, I was born with two enviable protectors. My brother, Adrian, couldn't bear to see me get a single scratch, and my mate, Liam, couldn't stand to see me shed a single tear. But at my transformation ceremony, Iris, an exile's daughter, stole the Moon Goddess Potion that was meant for me. She shifted first, becoming a rare, pure white wolf and capturing the awe of the entire pack. I only confronted her about it, yet my brother handed me over to enemy rogues as a bargaining chip for a truce. And my mate used wolfsbane to block my transformation, stealing my last chance to fight back. With their silent consent, I was tortured by my enemies until death was a mercy. Before I died, one of the rogues gloated, "So what if your father exiled me? My daughter, Iris, will soon be their Luna. The entire Silvermane Pack will be mine!" I died, consumed by hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn on the day of my transformation ceremony. Eyeing the preening white wolf before me, I sneered. "Guards! Shave all her fur!"