Trying To Sleep With A Broken Heart Novels & Stories

She prayed over and over again, begging for God's help and intervention. That night, Briana slept late, nursing a broken heart and wandering endlessly in the boulevard of broken dreams.

“Broken night?” Janice questioned. She had been led in as usual, and sat, still cuffed, across the table from Byron. “Hmm?” Byron looked at her, appearing confused. “That's what my mom used to call it when nightmares or something kept waking you up— a broken night.” “Oh,” now he began to understand. “Yeah, it looks like you had one.” “You could say that for sure.” “That's okay, I did too. I was dreaming about Lacey all night, Lacey and that damn snake.”

"A safeguard against the strength of their love. If they chose each other above all else, their bond would be unbreakable. But if doubts crept in, the pendant would shatter, symbolizing the fragility of their relationship." I clutched the broken half tighter. "So, the fact that it's broken now..." Morana interrupted, "Means your love is being tested. But it also means there's hope. If you can find the other half and mend it with genuine intent, your bond can still be saved." "But why can't I remember any of this?" I questioned, feeling overwhelmed. "Why does it feel like I'm hearing a fairy tale?" She gave a sad smile. "Because, dear Elain, your memories were sealed."

He took a deep breath and continued. "I can't take the weight of your love, I just can't. I'm getting lost on you, I feel like you'll be safe in the hands of another. I'm beyond damaged, I'm broken to the core. There are times I've felt maybe I'm not broken, just bent, but now, now I know I'm broken. Despite knowing broken things still work, I also know there's an expiry date. Broken things work till they don't."

Sniffling, I grabbed a pillow and lay by my side—as if that could erase the hollow in my heart—the aching desire to have him here with me. What was wrong with me? I'd spent years practicing how to be resilient...built walls around my heart, only to fall for the same man who broke me years ago? Where did I lose it? My pillows soaked with my tears...and somewhere around there, I drifted off to sleep. A sad sleep. *. *. *. *. * Mommy!!” their laughter pulled me out of sleep, the pitter-patter of little feet scooting across my room. I opened my eyes. It was morning.

Not like this. But to look at her now, unconscious, fragile, hardly breathing, something in me broke. I scooped her up into my arms, cradling her against me. She was so light. Too light. I swallowed. Damn it, Adeline. I had closed her out to break her. But maybe… just maybe… I'm the one who's broken instead. I tightened my arms around Adeline's limp body, my heart racing in my chest. "Stop teasing me," I muttered, rocking her gently. "Just wake up."

My legs started wobbling like jelly underneath me, and I almost fell back on the bed. “I’m fine,” I lied, attempting to suppress the panic that was already creeping in my chest. Nathan didn't budge; he watched me like a hawk. I took in a shallow breath, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened. "I’m fine, Nathan. Really. I don’t need you babysitting me." My voice was weak, but I hoped he didn’t hear it. I wasn’t fine. I hadn’t been fine since the day I’d been born into a world where betrayal was ordinary, not strange,

Y one final time whether we could meet. He refused again, saying he was busy with work and maybe another time. I steeled myself and sent the message I had prepared. "Darling, if we can't meet and I can't even hug or kiss you, we should just break up." I blocked him without a second thought. After the breakup, no one lulled me to sleep at night. My sleep deteriorated sharply, and the nightmares came one after another. In my dreams, a secretary led me to his office. I pushed open the heavy door alone and found nothing but darkness.

I don't know how long we sat there sobbing to each other through a door, but sometime later I heard his heartbeats slow down along with mine and we both fell asleep againist the door. Asleep were two broken souls trying to mend there broken pieces together because of the mistakes of many and the mistakes they have made themselves.

Would always. The realization followed me to bed, so I buried my face into my pillow and I cried. Cried as I hadn’t done for eight years. Cried as though my heart had been broken all over again, because it had. Because the band-aids I’d used to tape it all back together were coming unglued. You couldn’t mend a broken heart with band-aids. A doctor should know better. So, I cried. I cried and cried and cried, because my broken heart had come apart at its band-aided seams. And when the tears ran out, I lay, hollow and empty, in bed to watch the sun rise through the pale curtains.