The Knife Of Never Letting Go Book Novels & Stories

Her disappointment stung harder than the IV in my arm. "Shawn is the head of a mafia family. Ruthless and cold. Do you think a man like that would ever be gentle to a woman who tricked him into marriage? Do you think using suicide will make him care?" She scoffed. "Grow up. If you pull this stunt again, no one’s going to save you." No comfort. No concern. Just shame. I stared at the tiny holes in my hand from the needles and wondered when exactly I became someone so easy to give up on.

But if he had to be honest, he didn't quite understand why he'd kept those women in his life after what they'd done to him. He'd also never seen the man as happy as he was after he'd gotten married to his younger lover. He hadn't met the girl before but he knew just by the joy in his eyes that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. So of course he didn't want him to lose her. "For your marriage to work, you have to let go of the past." Their many problems had only one solution, Dr. Scott didn't even need to be a psychologist to know that. There was no moving forward until he'd made that decision.

I snatched up a scalpel and swung it around like I'd lost my mind. I just wanted to clear a path for Ellie to survive. More and more people shoved forward. I struggled to breathe, like I was drowning. I wanted to stab every single person blocking the way. *** Third-Person POV Meanwhile, Pierce couldn't sit still. He kept refreshing the news updates, hesitating. "Ellie's still in surgery. Am I taking this too far?" Jared looked perfectly fine in his hospital bed. Pierce finally started to get up and head for the operating room, but Daphne hooked herself around his arm and pulled him back down.

And as I looked back, dragging my suitcase, I couldn't help but wonder, why had I held on for so long? Because clearly, letting go hurt, but what hurt more? Were the months that I had stubbornly held the double-sided dagger in my hands, gritting through the pain, hoping for a miracle, and must I add? The miracle never happened, just the pain. And just like that, another chapter was opened, the page still blank, but the ink was still there, and so was hope. "God! Sabrina " When she saw me, Ivy released a dramatic sigh, and I almost rolled my eyes.

Third-Person POV Ian was a step too late. The moment he yanked the window open, the hem of Sophie's clothes slipped past his fingers and fluttered away like a butterfly, plummeting toward the ground, leaving only mud smeared all over his hands. It was the same mud that had splashed onto her when he'd shoved her out of the car. The shock hit him so hard that his mind went blank. He stood there, frozen for a few seconds, before what he'd just allowed to happen finally sank in. Shouting Sophie's name, he stumbled and scrambled down the stairs.

“You are not she.” I had chosen the orchard for its openness, for the space it allowed me to step away if I wished. And yet even beneath open sky, even with room enough to retreat, I did not. It was not the closeness of the alcove that undid me. It was him. His knuckles brushed my cheek, then lingered there, as though reacquainting themselves with something cherished. “Do not speak of relinquishing me,” he murmured. “I will not yield you to another.”

It was Pierce’s head on a platter. "I got it," I whispered, a surge of adrenaline making me feel lightheaded. "I actually got it." I clutched the folder to my chest and turned to run back to the door. I could almost feel the victory, the sense that for the first time, we were the ones holding the knife. Clack. The sound was sharp and final. I froze. I looked at the heavy steel door. The electronic lock had engaged; a red light now glowed where it had been green. I ran to it and yanked the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

“And when you do… you'll know what your pride really made you lose.” He stepped out of the room and the door clicked behind him. I stared at it for a long time, the echo of his words curling around my thoughts like smoke. Pride. If only he knew that's the only thing keeping me alive. I downed what was left of the whiskey. And it burned like fire. My grip tightened again. The glass shattered in my hands. Blood slid down my wrist and I smiled faintly. “Torin,” I called, my voice echoing off the walls.

The edgy contact excites me. I wonder what he's doing right now, who he's with. Is he thinking about me? I move the blade to the center part of my hand now making small cuts there. I welcome the pleasure in the pain it brings. It's different from the emotional pain that I've now gotten used to. It makes me feel not so numb anymore. I do this for a while longer before I hear my dad shout, "Sweetheart," from downstairs. I quickly hide the blade under my pillow and then rush to my bathroom to wash off the blood. There's so much of it that I'm shocked at myself. This is the most I've done. Maybe I should stop before...

Meanwhile, my heart ached, tears rolling down my cheeks involuntarily. I, too, had wanted to be the one loved by my family, but I never was. Jeff pushed open the door to my room and saw my journal lying open. "List of times you were overlooked? Final warning? The 99th time—abandoned during your mating ceremony?" I shut the journal before he could take a closer look. I didn't want him prying into my secrets. "Don't be childish, Georgia. It's only a mating ceremony. We'll just reschedule for later. You don't have to write that down," Jeff said.