The Diary Of Jane Doe นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The top-right corners of the pages keep crumbling into charcoal. I stare at the burnt diary. This is the diary of someone who must have gotten seriously hurt in that day’s blast, I think. Not many people survived the blast; I was one of the few who did. The diary is in bad shape. It doesn’t look as though the person to whom it belongs would have survived the blast. I open the first unburned page. There is no name. Just the initials—RD. ‘You’re late’, Shrey looks at me and says.

Meanwhile..... It was dimly lit at Diana's abode. The three story building. The atmosphere seemed very lively although nothing special was going on. Stoic was focused on his laptop while Legacy was doing some art work and Jennifer was going through some diary they said they got from the president general's Library and by now they had downloaded all the informations the needed about the president general. Stoic on the other hand whistling soon froze on the spot when a webpage displayed the information of Hannah Smith.

I knew from Dakota that a girl's diary was off limits, but drunk Drake didn't give a fuck. I took the journal to the bed and sat down as I cracked it open. There was a lot of mumbo-jumbo about school events and some bitch named Becky that she rambled on about for a few pages. Then I read the page that talked about her losing her virginity to Jason in the back of his truck and I quickly turned the pages. I didn't want to read that shit and wondered what the hell I was even doing readingthis. It was only making me feel worse, but when my eyes landed on a page that caught my attention, I just couldn't stop.

It was as if the world outside had disappeared in a blanket of ink. Her body felt heavy, and she decided to sit on the bed. It was pretty soft, and it was nothing like she'd ever been on. She opened the drawer and saw a small, leatherbound journal with the name Dorothy Stein on it. Carefully, she opened the peeling leather covers and read the first entry, which was miraculously legible.

I can only conclude because this is not written in the diary either. "Does Duna actually know what a diary is?" I complained. After storing the ID Card and mercenary ID in the drawer, I took some packets of cookies from the cupboard and read the diary again. If I look again, the first few pages have been torn. Maybe Duna used to write a diary, but suddenly made this book into a notebook. Starting from the Xenobeast category, mercenary system, base system, to how to use guns and laser swords. January 27, 3043

It held a lot of secrets ,she was bewildered herself if every human could be as callous as Sloan will be then the world will be more dangerous than it already was . She snapped all the entire diary and returned to where she picked it from . Snapping out of her thought she enters a large house which had vast lands where the cattles fed , loud braying of donkeys and neighing of horses was heard . There was a lady standing by the side of the door . she held a tray filled with bread crumbs Bessie decided to approach her although her facial expressions doesn't look welcoming . “ Hello dear ” Bessie greeted “ Hello City lady ,how may I help you ? ” Jolie answered

He chuckles low and mocking while steeping closer as the scent of his cologne hits me— musky, masculine and I swear my pussy twitches. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. But we both know who's really close here.” Brian stance shifts and I can’t stop staring at the way his pants hug his thighs. Fuck, is that a bulge? No, stop it, Jane. This is ridiculous. I hate this feeling and this betrayal from my own body. “Don’t call me sweetheart,” I snap, grabbing my folder and turning my heel. “We’re done here.” I stormed out while my face was burning and my pulse racing.

All while she, Almay, the one who raised her, clothed her, albeit barely, was rotting in a dump with a plastic kettle and expired canned food. It was not right. It was not fair. She reached deeper into the suitcase, fingers brushing against worn velvet. She pulled out a small, nondescript wooden box. Her breath hitched. Slowly, she opened it. Inside lay a faded leather-bound diary. The edges were frayed, the gold-embossed letters barely visible now, but they read: “Diamante Lunaria Hernandez.”

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.

Jane demands, lifting her pert little nose into the air, “it’s probably a pack of lies.” “I hired the best investigators in the territory.” I explain grimly, “And you should really see what they discovered.” Shooting me a sullen glare, Jane returns her attention to the papers in her hands, reading them more carefully now. It’s almost amusing to watch her move through the packet, and I imagine if someone had been watching me earlier, my reaction would have been much the same. The first few pages don’t hold much information of interest, but about halfway through the dossier, things get interesting – to say the least.