Written In My Own Heart's Blood นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I dug deep, reaching for the core of myself, the unyielding part that refused to be broken. The pain intensified, clawing at my chest like fire, but I didn’t let it consume me. “You don’t own me,” I growled through gritted teeth, my voice rising with each word. “My heart is mine. My strength is mine. And I will never let you take it.”

screamed Hilary. “It’s not my fault I have a bad heart, Hilary, and I'm so sorry for ruining your holiday. I didn’t mean to do so.” “Of course, you can’t help being sick. You're a defective product. Your biological mother must have taken one look at your face and seen how much trouble you would bring!” sneered Hilary. Amber sobbed quietly, each statement from Hilary cut her deeply and she could no longer bear it. She grabbed what was left of the groceries and fled into the night as Hilary’s loud cackles follow her. She pauses for breath and inhales sharply as she realizes she was in unfamiliar territory. Looking around in fear, she tries to make sense of where she was. All she saw was unfami

Here, I am free to explore the depths of my heart, to confront my fears and insecurities, and to channel my energy into a force that will stand strong against the encroaching darkness. Though my heart aches for your presence, I know that my path must be forged alone. The battles I wage, the challenges I face, are but a reflection of the battles that may one day come. And when that time arrives, I will be prepared, my strength a shield, my determination a guiding light. As I write these words, I am filled with a sense of purpose, a quiet resolve that courses through my veins. The mountains have become my refuge, a sacred ground where I confront my inner demons and emerge stronger with each pa

"You." My heart beat heavily…

One with my name. My blood. My crown.

I am not just a victim in this house. I am blood.

“The fire that feeds. Old words, in the old script, when she thought no one was listening. I will write down every word I can remember, and I remember most things.” In my lap, asleep, my daughter’s fist tightened in my collar and held on. I put my hand over it and made her the same promise I had made her over a monster’s walls. And this time I made it to the fire in my own blood as well. It could wait its turn. I had things to do.

I opened my eyes again and typed slowly: "About the courage of a child who teaches his parents to keep going even though the world often feels too heavy." This time I didn't erase it. My hand kept moving, writing one sentence after the next. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't beautiful, but it was honest. The words flowed, not from my head, but from my heart, from gratitude, pain, and love all mixed together.

Each stroke of the quill was a testament to the journey I had undertaken, the trials I had endured, and the triumphs I had achieved. "My dearest little goddess," I began, my words flowing like a river of emotion. "At long last, the day has arrived. The day I have yearned for, fought for, and sacrificed for. Before I met you, love... I was nothing but an outsider in my own home, I was just a misfit belonging to nowhere, but I was fine with it until I met you, my little goddess.

“Let us pretend that that was just a moment of weakness. It should never happen again!” God knows I am bleeding inside, my very own words cutting through my poor heart like a double-edged dagger. This is deep. This is so strong.