The Diary Of An Oxygen Thief Novels & Stories

She put her hand on the back of my head and gently rubs my head. "shh, it's okay. Take a deep breath and try to explain to me exactly what happened okay?" She says trying to comfort me. My eyes are burning from the salty tears and my head is spinning in panic but I try to calm down and explain everything to her. I tell her about last night. I tell her about the mirror and the eyes and the forest and the girl who looked just like me. I tell her I couldn't control my body. I try to convince her it wasn't my fault. I tell her about the safe and the box unlocking when only she knew the combination and the spell to disarm the box. I tell her everything.

He intently looked at me, "It's not easy to search for it. It may took you years to find one. I advised you to search for Talia. She lives in the woods of Texas. Do you have your things with you?" I know he's pertaining to the diary, pocket watch and the key. I looked at the floor as I shook my head, "No, I don't. The only thing I have is the watch and the key." "That's fine. Do you remember your last diary piece?" "I tried writing everything in a piece of paper. everything that happened to me, still noted though I don't have my diary with me..." I showed him the paper I was able to salvage along the way. He smiled, "Smart ass."

She marvelled at her erratic heart beats and wondered if they would ever get normal in his presence. As she searched her bag for the comb, she found the small handpocket sized diary that she bought in a thrift store a long time back. She opened it and skimmed through the enty pages of the book when a crazy creative idea popped up. Smiling to herself, she picked a pen from the nearby table as she decided to write about all the beautiful memories she had with Ronan the previous day. This way, she can relive them whenever she wanted without missing out on even the smallest details. Excerpts from Anya's Diary:

🖱️Victor🖱️ The diary sat in my hand like it was alive, breathing, watching me, judging me, and the blue fire wrapped around my fingers didn’t burn anymore, it just existed like it belonged there, like it had always been waiting for me to notice it. I stared at it for a long time, longer than I should have, my thoughts drifting somewhere I had been trying very hard not to go. Jayden.

He mused. It was understandable that it might belong to Zoriana, Liam's girlfriend. But what Owen couldn't understand was how it happened to be in Liam's custody, afterall people keep diaries for their own personal interest, to keep their secrets and he didn't think Zori would keep a diary if she had wanted the world to know what's in it. Not restraining himself any longer, he flip over to the next page and while reading through, he got stunned on discovering its content. DEAR Future Husband,

I had my journal in my hand, somehow I felt a new need to hold on to it everywhere I went. I was with Damien, though I was bruised all over, it was easy to hide the pain. Besides, I was used to being flogged. We were talking about something that made me laugh so hard. It was actually a comedy skit we watched. I almost lost balance, my journal scattered on the ground. I was embarrassed, more embarrassed because the name "Annabelle Steele" was written boldly on its front page.

He turns me over, yanking my jeans down over my hips while I reach out and scratch him. I make an attempt to obtain as much of his DNA as possible under my nails. If today is the last day I live, I want to leave something for the police to work with that will point them in the right direction to apprehend this sicko. He pries my legs wide open, settling himself between my thighs as he uses his free hand to wriggle his pants down. He towers over me and I struggle against him. Twisting and turning as I refuse to let him have me without a fight.

June 13,2024 Dear Reader, If you’ve found this diary, then fate has strange plans for you. This isn’t a story of heroes, or even of the living. What you’re about to read isn’t fiction — not entirely. These pages carry the weight of things unseen, unheard, and often misunderstood. So before you turn another page, ask yourself: Are you ready to see the world through the eyes of someone who walks among both the living and the dead? If not, close this now.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the most eye-catching photo frame and smashed it to the ground. To my surprise, a hidden compartment lay behind it. Inside, a small wooden box sat neatly in place. I stared at it for a long moment before opening it. Inside was a medical report and an old diary, its pages yellowed with age. The report listed my personal info, my blood type bolded like it was the only thing that mattered. I flipped through the diary, watching the handwriting evolve from messy scrawls to steady, confident strokes.

It was a dangerous game, and I knew that the stakes were higher than ever. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across our secluded estate, I received an anonymous package. Inside was a small notebook, weathered and worn, with a note that read, "The truth lies within." Curiosity mingled with trepidation as I opened the notebook. The pages were filled with Cassandra's handwriting—ramblings, fragments of memories, and cryptic clues. It was her diary, a window into her tormented soul. As I delved deeper into the pages, the puzzle began to unravel. The truth of our shared past emerged, piece by piece, revealing a shocking revelation that threatened to shatter ev