Novel Trauma Novels & Stories

I honestly don't know what I keep expecting from him but if this is what marriage is well I have to take what I'm offered besides I was just collateral damage. ‎

Tina let out a soft chuckle, "Are you hungry?" Chinyere wanted to deny it but it was too late as Tina had stood up, grabbed her hand and was now dragging her out of the room. Chinyere gently took Tina's fingers off her hand and Tina turned back to look at her. Chinyere had always tried her best to avoid people from touching her since the night Chibinobim had raped her but they always found their way to do so. She didn't trust anyone anymore, not even the females in the house.

"What if she misunderstood something?" Adrian considered the question carefully. That was one thing I appreciated about him. He never dismissed difficult possibilities simply because they were inconvenient. "That's possible." The answer surprised me. I had expected certainty. Instead he gave me honesty. "Trauma affects perception." I nodded. Exactly. Then Adrian continued. "But people experiencing trauma don't automatically become unreliable." The distinction mattered. A lot. His gaze drifted toward the notebook. "In fact, victims often notice details other people miss." The statement settled heavily between us. Because deep down, I knew he was right.

I needed some timeline, an endpoint to look toward. "Months. Maybe years. Trauma does not follow a schedule, Alpha Winter. But I promise you, she will get better. It just will not happen overnight." Meanwhile, Nadia and I were struggling with our own trauma. I still had nightmares about being trapped. Time was moving in ways that made no sense. I would wake up gasping and Nadia would hold me and tell me it was over but my body did not believe her.

Before my eyes closed, I could see his eyes filled with shock and profound sadness. Please, Dylan… he shouldn’t have to feel sad. Aren’t I nothing but a burden to him…? I’ve lived my life with Dylan for several years now. At first, everything was far worse than this, so bad that almost every day felt like a war. My desire to abort Miles was overwhelming, until it slowly turned into something calmer. After giving birth, I sometimes relapsed and would hide in the corner of the room. Pathetic. “That’s what often happens to people who experience psychological trauma. It’s very common,” the man speaking let out a heavy breath. “You’ve done something truly remarkable, Sir Dylan.”

"That's more specific. Severe trauma can sometimes trigger autoimmune responses, particularly if there was significant blood loss or organ damage. The body's immune system can essentially turn on itself." I looked at Hugo, trying to decide how much to reveal. "Someone I used to know... their appearance changed dramatically. They looked ill, almost skeletal."

“What is a textbook case... to some degree?” “It means I’ve studied about people like him. They face deep trauma and their defense to it is never letting themselves truly move on from it because that would mean acknowledging every last detail. This could lead them to acts of violence, substance abuse, and prepositioning to shove their fist up their therapist's ass simply because he asked a question.” “He didn’t?”

She continued, "And Gianna... isn't grieving one person. Five losses in two days. And every one of those losses attacked a different part of her." I felt my jaw tighten. Alessia noticed, "And Hazel was her safety. You keep trying to understand Gianna using logic." "I am." "I know and normally that serves you well," she smiled sadly, "But trauma doesn't always behave logically. It behaves protectively." I listened. "It's called emotional numbing. The brain doesn't decide to do it. It simply does. The alternative might overwhelm the person completely." I thought back to Gianna standing beside Hazel's coffin.

Because I don’t know which wants are mine and which are leftovers from… them. His gaze drifted to the window. “I keep waiting for the options to appear,” he whispered. “And when they don’t, I freeze. Because what if… if I move without them, I’ll make the ‘wrong’ choice and… something terrible will happen.” Mila’s eyes were wet. “Trauma does that without help,” she said. “They just put it on fast‑forward.” He looked at her. “Can you fix it?” he asked. “Not… all the way. Just… enough that when I think about leaving a job or telling someone I’m angry, it doesn’t feel like… inviting the apocalypse.”