The Freedom Writers Diary Original Book Novels & Stories

My first memoir in a new diary. My old diary was filled with stories and stories of girls I've fucked and turned but after this incident that happened on 23/4/2027 I had to start a new diary. So... I was angry that mum was remarrying. I really hate the thought that she couldn't keep her pussy at check after dad's death and jumped into another man's arms. However, she kept reassuring me that it's going to be fine but I hate it as hell.

"Open to the last page, you might want to read it." Iandor pulls out the thick diary, it has a light blue plain hardcover to it with a small 'L.H' at the bottom right corner of the book. The auburn-haired male guessed it was Hana’s initials. He quickly run the pages till it stopped at the last one, reading her entry it was entitled 'The boy who cried wolf.' Love comes in all different shapes and sizes, different races and beliefs, different skin and eye color. No matter who you were in love with you tend to risk your life and protect them even if it kills you.

I shook my head and turned back toward the studio. She did not follow. She remained there on her knees until nightfall. Anna later told me she had kneeled there for four hours before security finally helped her away. When she left, she was still clutching the soup container tightly in her hands. Anna said, "The blood from her knees stained the gravel red." I lowered my eyes to the blueprint. The tip of my pencil dragged across the page, leaving behind a long, uncontrolled line.

Larry didn't leave the Neutral Zone immediately. He went to Nora's new school the next day instead. The school was having an open day, and the playground was filled with the kids' and pups' excited laughter. Some were playing soccer, some were riding on the swings, and some were learning how to protect their heads and throats in case of danger. Larry stood outside the fence and spotted Nora at once. She was wearing a light-blue shirt, and her long hair was tied back in a high ponytail as she followed along with the self-defense moves.

"Oh, by the way, here's ten thousand dollars. Give it to Damian for me. I finished all my paperwork, and I'm leaving tomorrow morning." Clara's eyes widened in surprise. "Tomorrow? Isn't that too soon? I thought you still had a few more days." I zipped up my suitcase and kept my tone casual. "I'm worried Damian might try to stop me if I wait until the official departure date. Leaving early makes it easier." Seeing my determination, Clara simply shook her head and sighed. She did not say much after that. The next morning, just as dawn painted the sky in pale gold, I rolled my suitcase out of the apartment. The only thing I left behind for Damian was a signed divorce agreement.

"Didn't I tell you that you're the only woman he loves deeply? One more reason I came here. I want to give this to you." She got stunned when the old woman suddenly handed her a familiar notebook that she was starting to recognize. To her surprise, it was the diary she owned way back in her high school days. The diary where she chronicled all her feelings to Thyago way back in her teenage days, the diary where it all began...

Whenever the thought crossed my mind, Derrick's face would involuntarily surface, making me sick to my stomach. Though I had moved and started my shop alone, I had the enthusiastic locals who had helped me with each step along the way to thank. I took a deep breath. This was the smell of freedom. My past self must have been out of her mind. Just as I finished getting everything ready, Crystal called. "Derrick is such a pain! He refuses to sign the papers, no matter what. I've spent an entire month trying to make him give in. But he simply won't listen to reason, and his words are plain vile! How did you put up with him for so many years?"

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. Just some old notes. Private shit.” Private. Yeah right. The word only made my curiosity burn hotter, mixing with the ache in my cock that hadn’t gone down one bit. While he stood up to grab another bottle of whiskey from the bar cart across the room, I leaned forward quickly and clicked on the locked file. A password prompt popped up. Fuck. I tried the obvious ones fast,his book title, his name, the date on the manuscript. Nothing. Then on a hunch I typed in a phrase from one of his filthiest scenes. The file opened.

Micha gaped. "How?!" The book continued. A certain person brought a book to the palace to clear his name. I'm sure you already know who it was. Micha gasped. "Beth?!" "Yes," the book answered. "She dared to approach the palace with evidence, despite Roosevelt's reputation." Micha frowned. "What book are you talking about?" Golden letters formed: "Princess Eloise's diary." My eyes widened. Micha nearly jumped. "Her diary?! Then everything will finally be known!"

She heard about the moment they first felt seen. One girl, Mika, said, “I used to think my voice was too loud. Now I know it’s just loud enough.” Another, Jessa, said, “Writing saved me. It gave me a way to breathe.” Leah transcribed everything. She wove their words into essays, pairing them with her own reflections. She included letters, journal entries, even text messages. She wanted the book to feel alive. As she wrote, the media attention grew. A national magazine requested an interview.