Built From Broken Novels & Stories

Wrinkling his nose at the smell emanating from it, he shimmied away and twisted into the slender gap between it and the next. He moved as such until he reached the towering, distorted building that he vaguely recognised as the cell block. It was morphed almost beyond recognition, so many new chambers and cells added in mouldy, rotting wood that the whole structure looked about a second away from collapse. The wind coiled around it, threatening to knock it apart with every gentle exhale.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” My fists clenched until my nails dug into my palms. I wanted the pain. I needed it to keep from falling apart. “To leave me,” I whispered, every word trembling. “To leave us. And then come back—just to destroy everything I’ve built?” My voice cracked on the last word. Built. The word itself hurt. Because I had built this life. From nothing. From the ruins he’d left behind. Every inch of stability, every shred of dignity, every moment of peace — I’d clawed it out of a life that had tried to swallow me whole.

Neither does Roman. We stay connected. In this fragile moment. ###########

“You already have me.” He turned around in my arms, lifting my chin gently. “I just needed a reason to make you smile this morning.” “You are the reason,” I said, truthfully. And yet—despite the warmth, the sweetness, the safety—we were still on uncertain terrain. That’s the thing about rebuilding something that once fell apart: no matter how strong you make the new foundation, some part of you still listens for cracks.

Totally broken. `

I asked. “Give me the truth." And then Sofia held out her little finger. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. I taught her about the little finger promise when she was 4 years old and I was 8. We promised never to lie to each other. A little finger promise could never be broken. She remembered this. I didn't deserve that gesture, I broke my promise. But not anymore. Sofia deserved the truth that I had denied her for so many years, even though in the end I would lose her for good.

She walks with elegance and prudence but could speak a curse that would leave you both lost and confused, shattered and broken but most of all deeply in love. That's how I ended up here in this situation I am in now, losing everything and everyone closest to me. Leaving me alone, depending on her for love, on her to put a stop to my lust, and on her to fill me up when I’m empty to stick me back together when I'm broken. I should have known that something was wrong, that something didn't quite fit together perfectly, no matter how many times Althea would beg me to look closer and pay attention.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” “I don’t know that. You say you aren’t going to hurt me, but the way you act sometimes hurts me. One day you treat me like you want me. Then the next you’re telling people I don’t mean anything to you. That we are only friends. I can’t take that. Not from you. I’m already broken, Dmitry. But you the power to shatter me.” His eyebrows wrinkled together. “Dani. For days now, I have been trying to tell you how I feel.”

Not since Lyken became my boyfriend. When Jada and Lyken broke up, she thought they couldn’t fix things between them. But thanks to the power of forgiveness, they are where they are now. Just as Demi Moore said, ‘The things people do to each other, they remember. If they stay together, it's not because they forget. It's because they forgive.’ And Jada agrees with her. Whether she likes it or not, what happened between Lyken and her will be forever part of their history. That’s something they can’t just erase.

Like I was reciting a script I’d been forced to learn. But I said them anyway. Because he’d told me not to break. Because that was the only thing I had left that still felt like mine—whether I followed through or not. My weight shifted, uneven and careful, as I tested my balance. The room swayed slightly, exhaustion pulling at me like chains, but I stayed standing. Barely. Just enough to keep from sinking back down and letting the pain win. “I won’t break,” I repeated, quieter this time, my voice steadier than I felt. “Even if I already feel shattered.”