Novel Trauma Novels & Stories

Ina way the whole of everything was creating a hell in my heart, a hell in such a way that I felt that if he was eventually going to come back it shouldn't be when I was left alone. The idea of him walking into the room left driving me insane, in as much that wasn't what I wanted, I couldn't help it. It was as though my body focused on one fact of recent and that was to stay away from him as much as I could. The last thing I wanted was to be traumatized by the event, it was my way of getting all of this over with ana starting up with that new life I so much Craved. I was equating getting back to him in a way to several trauma. Truly, we did have many parts of our lives that we can consider g

I’d walk around the apartment aimlessly till morning. No one knew. No one but Aiden and I. My family, and almost all of the small town I originally lived in, before shifting to the city to attend University, knew what happened. But no one knew that it still had me ripped down to shreds. People assume so often that punishing the culprit just brings you peace, but it doesn’t. Because the trauma lives with you, it grows and festers like mould and chokes the life out of you. Sometimes the trauma is you. You are nothing but that. A living, breathing reminder of someone else’s cruelty.

"You didn’t just fail me, you made choices that made me feel like I wasn’t enough for you." Victoria's breath hitched, and she swallowed hard. "I was wrong," she said softly, her voice wavering. "I was so blinded by… by my own greed, my own confusion. I didn't know what to do. I didn’t see what it was doing to you. But, Nova, you have to believe me when I say that I never stopped thinking of that day. The trauma it must have caused to know that your mother, a woman you are supposed to trust the most in the world treated..." her voice broke. "Treated you like that."

I began, the words feeling like stones being pulled from a deep well, “I was lost after my mother died and my father married my stepmother. I grew up in a house defined by the same ‘quiet’ Stacy knew. I was the girl in the corner, the one who washed the sheets and stayed out of the way of my step-sibling’s hands. When I finally escaped, I thought I was free. I thought I had left the darkness behind.” I looked toward the window, where the city lights of the harbor were visible in the distance. “But then came the boat. Five years ago. When I fell… when I hit that water… the trauma didn’t just break my heart. It broke my mind. I woke up in that hospital, and the world was black. Not because my

She was dying slowly and painfully. “I am sorry my love. This isn’t fair to you. I should never have included you in my games. It’s okay I will make this go away” he said with tears in his eyes. He pumped her full of morphine. Holding her hand, the whole time. Talking to her and she drifted away peacefully. “Oh my god, that was all Charles wasn’t it?” “Yes. You see how trauma can change a person if they let it” “I need to work through mine”

Did I made a wrong decision to ask for divorce? But I could not lie, I know I am still afraid of what he is capable of, I remembered his eyes got darker the first time he laid his hand on me. The trauma can not get out of my brain. Like everytime I close my eyes, the memories were playing in my brain. That is when I decided to go see a professional to help me to get out of this trauma. So i can be a better human and mum for Niles.

A group of people who'd been manipulated, betrayed, and broken but had somehow found strength in connection rather than isolation. "We did it," Bea said, disbelief evident in her voice. "We actually stopped him." "We did," Ben agreed. "Together." "So what now?" Helena asked. "We all just go back to normal after everything that's happened?" "There is no normal after this," Miranda said. "But maybe we build something better. Something that acknowledges trauma while refusing to let it define us." "That's very philosophical for someone who just bent reality to defeat a sociopath." "I contain multitudes."

Except nothing ever really shut him out. Damon. His absence lived in me like a bruise I couldn’t stop pressing. I thought of what the neurologist had told me—how the brain was complex, how memory loss was never a straight line: Some memories may never come back. Some may surface only with the right triggers. Trauma can erase. Comfort can anchor. Proximity. Intimacy. Familiarity. Anything. Anything except me, it seemed. I sighed, the sound small in the steam-filled room, and shifted upright.

I wake up extremely late the next day. And bump my head against the headboard, followed by a loud groan. I think that is the moment Robert stirs awake. But I am already stumbling off the bed. Sheet hooking around my ankle, and I stumble over, hands thrown forward to prevent my face from crashing against the white tiles. Left hip coming into contact with the hard floor. A sharp jolt of pain cruise through my entire left leg. Omph!

"That's why I didn't leave you farther away. Summer, you never used to be like this. When did you get so cruel?" Then he slammed the door. Seconds later, his taillights vanished down the mountain road. The storm came out of nowhere, turning the dirt road into a river of mud. One hand over my belly, I dragged myself forward. The first time I fell, my knee smashed into a rock. Then I went down twice more. My fingers clawed through the mud, nails ripping back. Blood from the cuts on my legs soaked through my pants. Face-down in the rain, I screamed Adrian's name.