The Broken Me Met Him Again Novels & Stories

“We’ll always be here for you.” Just then, my phone buzzed. A new message. My heart sank as I looked down. Matteo Rinaldi. I just want to meet and talk things through. Pick the time and place. I’ll be there. What did he think he was doing? And how did he even get my number? I definitely didn’t give it to him at the airport. The next time we met was at the bar. He must have taken it then. I was drunk. Vulnerable.

He said that my health wasn't good enough for long-distance travel. I smiled and did not argue. Over the course of those five days, Annie kept sending me group photos, showing off to me how much my parents and Oliver doted on her. "Lorelei, you can never win against me." As I read her message, I pressed the power off button silently. Disbelief was written all over Martin's face. "Lorelei, didn't your parents win the bid for the wonder drug? How is it that your condition still worsens?" My vision gradually became blurry. I forced myself to hold it together as I replied, "Dr. Snow, please handle my remains. I truly have no one else I can ask.

Sarah looked at her reflection in the mirror—a broken, fragile woman staring back. But deep inside her swollen eyes, a faint spark began to burn—A resolve. "I’ll remember every word you said, Ronan Vexler," she whispered hoarsely. "One day, I swear, I’ll make you pay for everything you’ve done."

Maybe I would’ve sat beside him on a train and struck up a conversation about music or weather or anything at all, and something in our souls would’ve just… clicked. But the truth was, I didn’t meet him when he was whole. I met him when he was breaking. And maybe that mattered more.

He says, worry bleeding through his voice. “I met someone, I fell for him faster than someone can fall off the side of a cliff and I hit rock bottom when he left. I broke his trust. I haven’t heard a word from him, and I just need time to pick myself up off the floor. That is all I can tell you.” I tell him and he sits back, staring at me.

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.

Damian asks. Am I okay? I feel dirty. I feel violated. I feel used. I'm in unbearable pain. I'm covered in blood, piss, and semen. I can taste shit in my mouth. My body won't stop trembling. There's tears falling from my eyes. He broke me.

Coated my cheeks in a sheet of moisture. But the laughing didn't stop. "I really am fucking broken, aren't I?" I asked through my fits. Bellamy shook his head. "Broken doesn't mean unfixable. We will get through this. Whatever you need, I will be here. Even if you don't tell him about me-" Another choked maniacal laugh rumbled into being between us. I couldn't help it.

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.

Damn it! She might not return to this restaurant again. She might think I'm stalking her. Guess I've lost this one. * * * * * * * * ' So tell me, did you meet your angel?' Raphael asked immediately I entered. He was still at my house. ' Oh no! Your facial expression tells me you didn't meet her. Too bad!' He whined and chuckled. ' What are you still doing here?' I asked ignoring his teasing.