When Her Death Couldn't Break Him Novel Novels & Stories

dad spoke again, and his words struck like arrows, piercing straight through my already bruised heart. Each syllable drove deeper, and it shattered the last fragile piece of hope I had been clinging to. Without hesitation, they all turned away from me. No second glance. No doubt. No mercy. I remained where I was, unmoving, frozen in place. And in that moment—something inside me broke beyond repair. In that moment, I died inside. ****tbc****

She covered her face with trembling hands. “No,” she whispered. “He… he used to be kind. He wouldn’t…” Her voice cracked. “He wasn’t like this before.” I didn’t know what to say. Watching her standing there, half light, half shadow, I realized that even in death, heartbreak could still destroy someone.

The clock ticked somewhere in the back of the room locking his jaw his palm met with the surface of desk with a loud thud as he rounded his body pacing around the room the shreds of glass break beneath his shoes. He couldn't kill her and he could never bring her any pain. She had woven a way through his heart that if he wants to remove her from his life he had to first claw at his heart to break the threads of her , threads of her smile, her eyes , her whole which were embedded deep in that pumping organ of his body and that would result him bleeding to death.

Just silence and the sharp citrus smell that would never leave that kitchen. The funeral was flawless because I made it flawless. I chose the casket, the flowers, the hymns, the eulogy. I thanked every mourner with dry eyes and a steady voice. People said I was “so strong.” They didn’t see me later, sitting alone in her armchair, staring at the spot where she fell until the streetlights came on. Something inside me had broken clean through. The good girl didn’t die that night. She just stopped breathing. What was left wanted to burn.

It jerks so hard that he nearly loses his grip on her. Whatever pain we just went through has depleted the last of our energy and I can no longer move. I watch helplessly as a light flame is released from his snout and aimed at the center of her chest. He takes a deep breath once the flames start and the sky ad clouds around us start to blur. I can sense that we are falling but I have no power to stop it. As the ground comes closer and closer I close my eyes and pray. I pray for death to rid us of the pain. I pray for death because without her, there is no life.

“You know, She will break him first. Mentally and physically. Then once he is completely broken, she will devour him.” “You dont know him,” I snapped. “He will fight.” “Oh, I hope he does. It will be more entertaining that way.” I whirled back around, fire boiling in my stomach, rising into my throat. “Why are you here?” He took a slow step toward me, head tilted like he was studying something behind my eyes. “Because I felt the ripple. Something cracked when she took him and you were at the center of it.” “What are you talking about?” “I’m talking about the fire you are trying to swallow.” He said. “The kind that doesn’t belog to mortals. Not really.”

Not as her guard. Not as her husband. Just as a man she didn’t want to be alone from. They sat side by side, close enough that their arms brushed. Neither pulled away. “I don’t know what this is,” she said softly. He looked at her. “Neither do I.” “But I know,” she continued, voice trembling, “that when I thought you were dying… something broke.” His breath stilled. “And it didn’t feel like fear,” she admitted. “It felt like losing.”

He needed to erase the image of her standing at the altar in that white dress, looking him in the eye and choosing Marco. His phone sat nearby, the screen cracked into a spiderweb from when he had hurled it against the wall hours ago. The battery was dead, the internal SIM card fried, completely cutting him off from the world. He didn't care. Let the city burn. Let his father’s empire rot. She had broken him, and now he was going to destroy himself in the dark. He poured another glass of bourbon, swallowing it down until his throat burned, welcoming the oblivion.

She really took her time with Byron, causing him immense pain if his screams and cries were anything to go off. Somehow, she’d made sure he stayed alive during it. It wasn’t until the end and his body was cooked that I felt the link break from his death. His family was sure to know he was gone now. “Rot in fucking hell,” she spat before turning on a heel and heading out the door.

It was the 911 mom had dialed earlier. "There's been a..." she sniffed in a sudden pause. She was contemplating what to say. "He shot the other man." "Where are you now?" Mom couldnt think clearly but she managed to say, "Church", she sniffed again "by my window". She dropped the phone and heard it fall on the shards of broken glass on the floor.