The Glass Is Already Broken Novels & Stories

The personal assistant bowed down his head and walked out of his boss’ room. “What actually happened just now? Illogically and irrationally, the thick, strong and highly-qualified glass could just explode and shatter to pieces. Shit! Shit! It absolutely doesn’t make sense! Moreover, I also lost my golden opportunity to drag my Sumico Baby into my hot embrace!” Back into her personal working office, Sumico was also still shocked, breathless and scared within her great disbelief. “That glass window is superbly strong, thick and qualified. Why could it just explode like that and irrationally shatter into tiny countless pieces as if… as if… as if it’d just been bombarded with a kind of nuclear m

He stood up, the glass still in his hand. “She doesn’t define me.” “But she marks you. Like an open scar. The thing inside the capsule felt it. It used that. Made you believe you would be seen, understood… loved.” “Enough!” he roared, throwing the glass against the wall. The shards scattered like small screams of glass. He was breathing hard, fists clenched, eyes moist. He wasn’t crying. But he was close. “I’m not weak.” “No, you are broken,” the beast replied with icy calm. “And if you don’t understand where the cracks are… someone will always use them.”

I am but I shake my head no. ”I'm here to break it to you that he isn't actually a good person. Remember what I used to tell you? Two shards of glass put together won't make a mirror. You're broken and he's broken. That constant push and pull that has been there since you were teenagers is a trauma response."

It shattered on the floor, the sound ringing through the air, and for a moment, everything went still. The two strippers screamed and ran off, panicked at the sound of broken glass, but I didn’t move. I just stared at the pieces of the glass, scattered on the floor, reflecting the dim light of the club. Everything felt like it was falling apart, just like that broken glass.

The word echoed in my head, louder than the sound of the shattered glass. This couldn’t be happening.

Like the soul of every silent moment I had ever endured had risen at once to roar. My window cracked, and the glass shattered into several pieces behind me.

The sound of glass shattering echoed through the room, sharp and unforgiving. The water splashed across the floor, its clear liquid mingling with the spreading pool of blood that was quickly growing under Richard's feet. The impact of the glass breaking, hit him like a physical blow, forcing his mind to snap back into reality, but his body was Slow to respond. He could only stand there, frozen in place, his legs shaking beneath him, watching the scene unfold like it was a nightmare he couldn't wake from.

What a touching scene! Callan grabbed the glass on the wine cabinet, raised his head, and drank all the whiskey in it. Then he smashed the glass on the table. The glass was broken in an instant. Callan was annoyed. He reached out to further crush the glass into pieces, and the pieces were immediately scattered all over the carriage.

The night sky looked beautiful but was as dark as my soul. I stood, and before I even knew it was in my hand, the glass I was holding shattered from gripping it too hard. The glass shattered as would my heart, slowly I heard a dripping sound hitting the ground, only it wasn't a martini… it was my fucking blood. I was filled with renewed anger and anxiety, the pills failed. Just then light from a headlight radiates through the room.

The footsteps approach and we all hold are breath. Time seems to have stopped. With a clatter, the glass I left in there skims across the floor. Spilling the blood all over the trap. Fuck. The glass breaks through it scattering the symbols and breaking them apart. Double fuck. His laugh echos out to us as he approaches the open door. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuuuccckk.