Willem A Little Life Novels & Stories

Lucien groaned and came with me, holding me tight. Afterward, as I rested against his chest, he spoke quietly. “My father was killed in front of me when I was sixteen. I took everything from the man who did it. I’ve trusted almost no one since… but you’re different.” I looked up at him. “That’s the most you’ve ever told me about yourself.” “Don’t make me regret opening up,” he said, but his fingers were gentle as they stroked my hair. Two nights later, the danger became very real.

The next day, Gabe updated his Instagram with a new photo. A blanket covered his lower abdomen. One hand held up the camera, deliberately revealing his chest and the ambiguous marks along his neck. On the other pillow, a woman's profile could be seen—eyes still closed. Caption: [So what? She's still mine.] The post was made visible only to me. No—also to Carrie. Because she had liked it. I glanced at it casually, then tapped "like" myself before going to sleep.

She had spent her whole life, only to end up with nothing in her hands. … Mom followed my wish and didn't take her own life. She faced no legal consequences because she had lost her sanity. For countless days and nights, she sat on a cramped bed in the psychiatric ward, staring blankly out the window. She kept singing something unconsciously, her voice faint and soft. Only by leaning in very close could one hear that she was singing a well-known lullaby. "Hush, little baby, don't say a word, Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird. And if that mocking bird don't sing, Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring."

said a older female wolf with cat eye glasses and the clipboard. "Rayven of the Fang Gibbous pack." the girl ahead of me answered. The older wolf wrote something down on her clipboard. "Cabin H please. Dinner will be at the pavilion at eight. Next!" The wolves eyes widened when she looked up and saw my hair patterning. "Name and pack." "Elma of the Waxing Tail pack." I noticed she flipped to the next sheet to write my details in a different section. "Cabin B, please. Dinner is at eight in the pavilion." Rayven had waited to see where I would be asigned, but her face fell when she heard we wouldn't be anything close to roomates. I joined her and her luggage with a shrug.

“Milan, you’re coming, right?” The question landed differently this time. Because suddenly the future felt uncertain again in ways Milan hated. Still, she answered without hesitation. “I’ll be there.” “You better,” Fatima threatened lightly. “I already paid deposits.” Lillian pointed toward the phone. “See? Real friendship.” “Financially motivated friendship,” Priscilla corrected. Fatima laughed. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it. Okay?” Milan looked around the hotel suite at the people refusing to leave her side despite everything spiraling publicly around her life.

He dresses up the tiny human and sighs in triumph as he finally returns him to the nursery. The tiny human is Prince Willy. One year old son to James and Millie Johnson. He always puts up his theatrics whenever it is his dad’s turn to change his diaper, fighting him with two frail legs. It is some glory moment to enjoy watching the show for Millie, now Mrs. James, for a year and six months.