You Can't Hide From Yourself Novels & Stories

DO you ever feel like committing suicide or feel like shutting yourself away from the world and hide where no one can see or find you no one will be able to hurt you but life is not a dream everything is real no matter how you try you can never escape reality. MORNING Why me?

Hugo asks. “ What do you want me to do? Hide here in Chicago like a fucking rat? You know that can never be me. If they want to get rid of me, they will have to try harder.” Hiding is not something I do especially not from a fucking coward who wants to eliminate me secretly. I am a self made man and that means I am used to danger striking anytime. Just because I don't openly deal with the cosa nostra doesn't mean that side of me is gone.

“Lucian knows now, so why not everyone else? Why not let you be your full self wherever you are?” My full self? What would that even look like? Even in Moonglow, I had to hide certain things depending on who was on the phone, or when writing letters. To be truly honest about everything at all times… It was a new feeling, a new idea. I didn’t hate it. “It’s time to be your true self, Aria,” Cathy said. “You don’t have to hide anymore.”

“I cannot see the future. I just lay the path.” Thoth shifted, and she turned to face him. “Hiding behind a mask cannot change anything.” His head snapped up. “Me?” His voice, confused. She chuckled. “Who else is wearing a mask but you?” Thoth scratched his head. “No one.” “Exactly.” She walked to him and leaned down. “You hide yourself to protect yourself. But you are only keeping yourself away from what could be. You are hiding away, and I am worried you will miss your chance. If you don’t confess the truth. All of it. Then you will miss the thing you want most in this world.”

I can’t. But he already does. He already is. He stays. My breath is wild and desperate, the edges sharp against the edges of me, against the soft, vulnerable parts of me that I cannot contain, cannot keep, cannot keep hidden, cannot keep secret. The surface of my thoughts is an unsteady mess, an unsteady mess that threatens to spill, that threatens to leave marks, leave scratches, leave traces that I can’t cover, that I can’t hide, that I can’t conceal, that I can’t. I can’t.

But are monsters born naturally evil, or do they turn into one for some reason? It's been long overdue for me to answer that. A being like me, called a monster? I laugh at myself. I'm way more than that. It's funny how people are two-faced and yet judge another. Surely minding your own business doesn't hurt, but I guess, like me, they're greedy. Now, now. What are you greedy for, self? "Peace," I whisper under my breath.

“Evidence is the problem. We don’t have it. Because you moved the witness. Because you sealed the bunker. Because you’re acting like there’s something to hide.” The pouch under my jacket felt heavier. So did the burner message waiting in my pocket like a countdown. Silas lowered his voice just enough to sound reasonable. “If there’s nothing to hide, bring her out. Let council verify the claim. Let the pack see your control.” “No,” I said. His brows lifted. “Then you admit you can’t.” My wolf snapped up inside me, furious at the implication. I kept my face empty. “You want to see her,” I said. “You want to put your scent on her and call it concern and then use her like a pawn.”

And I know, deep in my bones, that whatever they’re hiding— It’s already inside me. And it’s not waiting patiently anymore.

Richard countered, “is never too busy for his parents,come on get your shoes.” The ocean air carried the salt of waves and the laughter of children as father and son stood by the shoreline. Richard let the silence sit between them before speaking. “In my years of business,” Richard said, squinting into the sun, “I’ve learned something. Problems… they aren’t walls. They’re doors and every door has a key. Sometimes it’s not force, but the right approach.” Sam gave a low laugh, humorless. “This woman doesn’t have a door,she’s all walls.”

“Ours.” She knew which ones he meant. They’d drawn them in quieter moments: no disappearing into self‑blame, no turning every mistake into proof you should never have tried; no retreating into ‘we’re the Peace Pair’ myth when it was easier than saying ‘we’re tired and we failed at this piece.’ “I’m not allowed,” she said slowly, “to vanish into ‘I ruin everything I touch.’ That’s just another story I can hide in.” “Right,” he said. “And I’m not allowed to say ‘see, openness is dangerous, we should go back to simple orders,’ just because watching them shout at you made my hackles go up.”