Top Books On Addiction Novels & Stories

I can’t wait to run to my room and talk to my confidant and best friend,Diary. Dear Diary, Today I felt alive.I never quite understood somethings people do that totally put their lives at risk,never desired the fast life.Now I completely understand.Flying though that field,my mind void of every other thing was wondrous.I might actually be getting an adrenaline addiction with just two exposures.Thing is though,I don’t think I would be able to run as fast with nothing to get out of mind.I think I would be ordinary if I was carefree.The I need all my anxiety,insecurities and doubts to push me across the finish line.

So perfect and all mine, I placed a soft kiss on her temple before resting my chin on her head while my finger played with her hair. I was so fucking addicted to oliva like a lovesick puppy and almost cringe at the thought but that's how I became now, it was so fucking hard to deny the fact now. I became addicted to the way she talks, the way her plump Tips will curve into a smile, the way she breathed, and even how fucking beautiful she looked when crying.

*************** CHAPTER 57 ~Trisha’s POV~ Seated in the luxurious study of my father’s estate, I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, my eyes fixed on the documents spread across the mahogany desk. They were detailed profiles, each page carefully outlining Arianna’s background—or at least what little there was to know. I leaned back in the velvet chair, a slow smirk curling across my lips. Damon Dark’s pet project wasn’t as untouchable as she thought.

I noticed what he was reading and threw the notebook away. "Not this study." "Professor, has it ever occurred to you that if you're trying to solve a scientific problem and make a breakthrough in history, why should we study addictive drugs instead of drug withdrawal treatments?" There was a different light in Professor Orran's eyes. "You know, it's easy to get addicted, but hard to break. This so-called pure drug you're working on, is it really necessary? It is a waste to give to people whose bodies have already been destroyed who will drink anything, even groceries from small shops, if they can satisfy their needs."

Most importantly, the person needed to be comfortable listening. Marcus opened another database. The search became narrower. Behavioral health specialists, clinical psychologists, correctional rehabilitation consultants. Mental health professionals with experience working around inmates. He moved through dozens of profiles. Some were overqualified. Others had no experience inside secure facilities. A few had backgrounds that would make even a routine employment check raise questions.

He raised it like a sick madman, displaying it in front of me. “Like an obedient little whore, you’ll shut that filthy mouth with this.” His approach became suffocating to the point heavy tears could no longer be restrained. They rebelled over my cheeks in terrifying amounts. Every drop burned my skin without mercy. “I’ll teach you what happens when you laugh at everything I say.” My body pressed against the wall. Being buried between those stones sounded kinder than sharing a room with this monster. My head moved in frantic refusal while my throat tightened. “But you lied. You’re addicted to alcohol and gambling. Why don’t you admit your filth?!”

“A colleague. A woman who can talk. Do you understand what that does?” He did not wait for an answer. He shoved two fingers into her and found her wet, of course wet, the paranoia and the punishment already braided. He made a sound that was not kind. “Of course you do. Close call and this cunt still opens. That’s the addiction. That’s why we don’t get to be sloppy in daylight.”

In my mind, I'd fantasize about some lecherous man charging at me, shoving me to the ground, and roughly forcing my legs apart. Then came the weekend. My roommates invited me to a bar. I'd heard there were plenty of good-looking guys there. It was like waving a red flag at my hungry inner demon. Soon we arrived at the bar. A few drinks went down smoothly. And I couldn't resist the urge to expose myself again, right there in the crowd. That craving was more addictive than poison. It felt like ants crawling under my skin. I couldn't sit still. But my roommates were right next to me. There was no way I could do that kind of thing in front of them.

Jared asked “That is because it is a past that nobody is willing to share with anybody. The secret of the witches are hidden from the rest of the world because it is safer that way. If there were records, then it would only be a matter of time before the witches get their hands on that kind of magic and take it to the next level. Keeping records of things like this would only do more food than harm and then the rest of the quarters would know no peace anymore. That is the risk of keeping records and that was the mistake”

I didn’t have any kinks. I strolled away, but I could still hear her moan. Love is a name of the sweetest feelings that comforts you, gives you pleasure, and lets you know you are special, but this was something beyond what I’ve heard about love. Being tormented and the pain you receive when kissed is not love, it is addiction. Especially when you have to beg him to satisfy you.