Triangulation Narcissist Novels & Stories

Cupping my face with my palms, I settle myself under the silence. Things have always been tricky and screwed up for me from my childhood. And the more challenging they were,the more I became adamant on crossing them. This situation feels the same. I am here to just win the competition and prove to my family that a female werewolf can be the leader of a pack too. Just like Lady Cassandra. Yet, here I am turning into Nancy Drew and trying to solve mysteries of this creepy place and falling into more twisted realms of truth and lies. And out of all this, the one thing that bugs me the most is Tristian Knight. He is nothing like what I imagined. I don't understand what kind of a person he actual

he said as I turned to him in disbelief of this man's cruelty. “But he has children, surely he got married and moved on from my mother,” I said earning a shaken head, “You don't understand, this man didn't just love your mother, he was obsessed with her after she left, he tried to find someone just like your mother and he thought he had come close when he married his children’s mother, but he didn't, so he killed her after his daughter was born and become dependant enough,” he said as my blood went cold.

What if they were right and he was friends because he pitied me. What if he leaves me like mom left me.. I opened the bathroom door with force, grabbed my bags as I let the tears that should have fallen since Friday night fall from my eyes . the reality was so clear now.. Nobody wanted me. I was just a distraction, an obstruction. I pulled my phone out as I searched for maxon's name. Scar: I'm going home maxon. Jerk: Are you okay?. Now? Scar: yes, I just feel sick.

That beautiful, amazing, square jaw of his that begged me to run my fingers across. Then came his narcissistic personality. He had the whole God complex going for him, thinking that woman worshiped the ground he walked on. Cocky and yet so alluring; the Devil reincarnate. It was difficult remembering that he wasn't good. He may have been mine, but he wasn't what I needed or wanted in my life.

Just went straight to his desk, pulled out his iPad, and began to type. He is writing to me again? So I have to act like I don't know that he could talk. It's already been 5 years and this narcissist still doesn't trust me. If not for his aunt Red and my dying sister I wouldn't be here watching him act like he doesn't trust anyone in this world. Little does he know the one who he trusts is actually against him. Fool!! He doesn't even know his real enemy. Then he turned the screen toward me.

I had just been too stupid and blind to realize the difference between the two of them. They were both cocky, charismatic, sensual, fun, sexy, and gorgeous. But the boy was tender and romantic, and would have given anything to keep me by his side. The man was narcissistic, impetuous, addicted to ever-increasing highs – of attention from women, of adulation from his fans, of acting like an asshole. And I had just been another drug for his addiction. Idiot. Idiot. IDIOT. Like a recurring dream that turns into a nightmare, I kept coming back again and again to our heartbreaking conversation at the very end:

“Do you see this? Sex used to be the way we communicate. Now, I am getting this impression that you are using it to avoid talking to me. What’s wrong? Talk to me. Please.” “Maybe, this is all happening because of me. If it isn’t for me, Jonathan and you would be on good terms.” I finally told him what is bugging me. He let out a breath of relief this time. “You are maybe right. If you are not there in this picture, these things never would have happened and I am sure as hell, whether we will be on good terms or not, he won’t be coming after me. But, we can’t let him decide what we do and whom we chose in our life, can we? He is an ego centric narcissist. The word doesn’t run in the way he wa

“See? Thαt wαs cαsuαl. Nothing else.” “Yeαh right‚” I teαsed. “Cαsuαl glαnces don’t come with blushing‚ Sαshα. Αdmit it.” “I’ll αdmit he’s the kind of guy every girl should αvoid‚” she shot bαck quickly‚ stomping hαrder on the plαtform. “He’s α nαrcissist‚ α cαsαnovα‚ α totαl commitment-phobe. He probαbly keeps α notebook of women’s nαmes αnd their fαvorite colors just to use them.”

Right to build a life so full and beautiful that I became irrelevant to it. I've spent three years in therapy trying to understand what I am. Why I did what I did. And the conclusion is simple and devastating: I was too broken to love you the way you deserved. Too damaged to recognize what I had until it was gone. Too sick to choose you over my own self-destruction. The therapists say I have narcissistic personality disorder with antisocial features. That I learned from my father to see people as objects. To value performance over substance. To believe that admitting weakness was failure. And all of that is true.

An unapologetic narcissist. “And in what way have I humiliated you, Mr Landon Armani?” My voice dripped with sarcasm and I slipped the hair that fell on my face to the back. “You are the one who has sexually harassed me, the one that I have never understood. Don't forget that you joined hands with your sister to lead me into the pit and you asked for forgiveness. You are the one pissed with the fact that I am mated to the triplets and you are the one who has always crossed the line,”