You Can't Hide From Yourself Novels & Stories

“This isn’t about fear, son. This is about survival, our survival as supernatural beings in a not-so-supernatural world. This is survival about our kind.” “No,” I said bitterly. “This is about control, Dad.” He stood too, looming now. “You better watch your tone.” “I’m sick of watching everything,” I shouted. “My tone, my steps, my breath. I’m sick of hiding. What fun is it if I can't be myself?” “Hiding keeps you alive. It's done for years and will keep doing so.” “Or it keeps you comfortable,” I fired back. “Because as long as I stay locked away, you don’t have to worry about me embarrassing you.”

He chuckled, "Were you talking to Mike? Did you spill our secret?" Luke was undeniably striking. At school, he was an iceberg, cold and untouchable. But in private, he was warm and almost clingy. In the past, I'd have melted into his arms, blushing. Now I just stepped back, creating distance. "Didn't you want to keep us hidden?" I muttered. His eyes flickered as he caught the edge of my tone. Still, he pressed on with the question that always lingered. "You know we can't go public."

If someone asked me what superpower I’d choose, I wouldn’t need to think twice, I'd wish to vanish, to melt into the shadows and hide. The sound of his approach grew louder, each stomp was a cruel countdown. I tugged the thin blanket over me, it was not a real shield but the only shield I've got. I tried hiding before, beneath the bed, in my closet but he always found me. The chase only seemed to fuel his excitement, as if my desperation was just another twisted game.

he says frustrated. “Am I the only one that knows?” I gasp. Lucian places his head in his hands and groans loudly. “Is that what you mean when you say you won’t be able to hide anymore? Lucian,” I place my hand over his heart. “You shouldn’t have to hide who you are to make anyone happy. If they can’t accept you for who you are then… fuck them.” I shrug my shoulders before shoving in another handful of chips. “You are one to talk,” Lucian growls at me. “Who’s also in this room that is hiding their true self?”

“You call this thinking? Standing in the middle of the forest, trembling, afraid, avoiding me? That’s not thinking, Mara. That’s hiding.” Hiding. The word cut through me like a blade. That was exactly what I had been doing my entire life—hiding. From the pack, from my parents’ memory, from myself. From the truth that had been waiting for me for ten long years, buried deep under layers of fear and guilt. “I’m not hiding,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt, trying to assert control over the storm raging inside me. “I… I’m just trying to… make sense of all of this.”

I want this world to know that I'm strongest, nothing can beat me but, I act this way to hide my emotions, I hide my true self, even from myself. The beast inside me would eat it up leaving no trace of that one string I'm holding on to. When she suggested me the stuff about therapy claiming it as a mental disorder, it shook my insides. I don’t want to face that, I don’t want to be weak, the word would spread and the fear they have in their eyes for me will vanish turning into ashes.

It feels like it’s pressing down on me, pushing me deeper into myself until I can barely stand it. I keep thinking about what kind of man I am. Or what kind of coward. The evidence against Sandra and Marcus—it’s all there, laid out like a trap they set for themselves. I could use it. I could drag them down. But here I am, hiding in a lake house, pretending the world will stop moving if I stay still long enough. I whisper it out loud, just to hear my own voice: “What kind of man am I, if I can’t even fight for myself?”

I’m hiding. "What the fuck am I doing?" I whisper, staring at my hands. They are shaking. "Leading a cult? I’m not a prophet. I’m a graphic designer who got horny and broke the internet." I look at the mirror on the wardrobe door. The reflection stares back. Disheveled hair. Wild eyes. A white slip dress stained with grass and sweat. I look like a villain. The kind who starts the fire and then cries about the smoke. "You are hiding," Echo’s voice whispers from my phone on the mattress. "From them. And from yourself."

It felt like the whole world was unraveling, and she was trapped in the middle of it, unable to break free. She traced her fingers over the cold glass, as if seeking some comfort from the woman she had been. But there was no comfort to be found in that reflection. The woman staring back at her wasn’t the one she had once known. She didn’t recognize the way her eyes had lost their light, the way the corners of her lips turned downward with each passing day. Her mother’s words rang in her head: “You cannot hide from yourself, Isla.” The truth hung heavily in the air. It was a truth Isla had been running from for years. The lies she’d told herself. The denial of what she truly wanted. Of what s

“How? Everyone saw that video. Everyone thinks she’s a monster now. And I… I did that.” He didn’t answer right away, just kept holding me, one hand on my back. “You’re going to have to face it,” he said finally. “You’ll have to be honest, with yourself and with others. But running won’t help. And hiding behind Madison won’t either.”