روايات وقصص ضمن The Diary Of An Oxygen Thief

It clicks. The footsteps are getting louder. They are right outside. I have nowhere to put the diary. My pockets are too small. I shove it down the front of my dress. The cold leather presses against my skin, right between my breasts, hidden by the loose fabric of my cleaning smock. The door handle turns. I grab the feather duster. I turn back to the shelf. The door opens. Aureliano walks in. He stops. He looks at me. He looks at the ladder. He looks at the shelf I’m cleaning.

“You followed them?” I nodded. “And I found out why they disappeared.” Knox stood up “Everyone, listen.” The casual breakfast atmosphere disappeared instantly. I pulled out the diary I’d taken from beneath Teddy and Michelle’s bed. I placed it on the table. “This belongs to Michelle.” Hansel stared at it. “What is that?” “A diary.” I opened it. “It contains everything.” Caleb leaned forward. “Everything about what?” “Teddy.” I told them about the cave and the demons and even about the offerings.

Only one person had ever called me that. Could it be him???? Ice slid down my spine. I tore the envelope open with shaking fingers, unfolded the single sheet inside, and read: Little Thief, You have five hours to return every damn thing you removed from my mansion at 47 Hawthorne Lane. If the items are not restored (undamaged and in full) prepare to face the consequences of your actions. Regards, Leonardo Blackwood.

My throat burned. I grabbed a half-filled bottle of water I had left on my desk and gulped it down at once. The feeling came again, rumbling down in my stomach. I couldn’t tell if this was pregnancy-induced or the pool of blood that kept flashing back to my mind. I got to the bathroom before I let it out. The sink was covered in my puke. I ran water over my face. I dragged in air slowly as I walked back to the office. A diary caught my eye as I packed every file and document back into the drawers. Pink colored thick-covered diary. This must have belonged to Victoria.

UNKNOWN POV DEAR DIARY, She grows beautiful each and every passing day. It was just yesterday she was a child, and now she has tits and curves in all the right places. I stare at her through this broken mirror, I see her every step, her every move… I feel pain when she’s happy, and I relish in the joy her sadness brings me. She is mine, Diary. Mineee! Oh, it won’t be long now…

"Dear Diary, Today is the day I decided to spend an entire day naked. I know it sounds crazy, but I just couldn't resist the urge. I'm going to do everything naked – watch TV, eat, clean the house, maybe even dance around a little. I'm not sure what possessed me to do this, but I'm excited to see where the day takes me. Wish me luck!" With that, I set the diary aside and stand up, taking a deep breath. It's now or never, I think to myself. I make my way back to the living room, my bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. I plop down on the couch, feeling the cool leather against my naked skin. I grab the remote and start flipping through the channels again, this time without a st

Beside it was a mask—a delicate filigree of platinum that covered only the upper half of her face. She put it on. Looking in the mirror, she didn't see the woman who had planted a garden in Romania. She saw the woman who had outplayed the Architect. She saw a Panni. But as she reached for her earrings, she saw something else. On the nightstand sat a small, leather-bound book. She opened it. It was a diary, and on the first page, in a handwriting that made her blood turn to ice, were the words: The soul is the only thing worth stealing.

"Are you ready?" Mia asked as she fixed my dress. Black tunic with chest pocket and matching pants. "Yes. The trolley, the broom, microphone ,the bags everything's done", I show a thumbs up. "Are you sure you can do it", lilly asked looking at the building. "Ofcourse! " I decide to sneak into his apartment and steal that diary ,I'm sure there must be one . We already search about this building. Its one of the most expensive one and the security is too high.

◆◆◆ Chapter 2 ◆◆◆ I spent the entire weekend hiding in my apartment, ignoring texts from classmates who suddenly found me fascinating for all the wrong reasons. The humiliation replayed on loop as my own words, my deepest, most depraved fantasies, were read aloud in front of everyone while Darian Rho watched with those unreadable dark eyes that seemed to strip me bare without ever touching me. Monday morning, I discovered my diary was missing. Tuesday afternoon, the first text arrived from an unknown number: “Page 23. The elevator fantasy. Creative use of the emergency stop button.”

To give them the reaction they came for. Bianca steps forward angrily. “You bitch—” I catch her wrist. “Don’t.” “But, Angel—” “Please.” My voice is so quiet that even I barely hear it. I look down at the books scattered across the wet pavement. Then I see it. My diary. It lies beside them, its leather cover splashed with coffee. Everything inside me goes still—I can replace my hoodie. I can buy new textbooks. I can wash the coffee from my skin.