(COMPLETED STORY) It's Rose Adam's senior year of highschool, and she just moved to a suburban town known as Blakeson Canyons. As every trouble in her life seems to fall into place in this perfect town, she soon comes across a mysterious 17 year old boy, left alone and not talked to for his past, Blaire Weston. Warned to not talk to what's assumed to be a psychotic killer, Rose can't help but to get to know him to understand who he is, thinking that everyone is so quick to jump to conclusions. Little does she know, it would be the worst mistake of her life.

[18+ only] "Eric, Did you sleep with her ?" I knew his answer nonetheless I waited for his reply. I knew it would break me and shatter me into pieces but I prayed to hear a negative answer when I very well knew what I was expecting was next to impossible. "YES" He replied nonchalantly. His hair looked messy from how many times she would have raked her fingers through it. His naked tattooed back had visible red marks of her nails which only broke my heart into million peices. ********************** He was the wildest dream, She was a dreamer. He was the bright sunshine, She was even darker than a shadow on new moon night. He was hot tornado, she was cool sea breeze. He was the dew on new morning leaves, She was a wilting flower. He was a rising morning, She was a dark night giving in to light. He was never ending tranquil sky, She was a dry desolate land. Little did she know 'Dawn' and 'Horizon' moulded them together to form a captivating illusional beauty. He had scars, she was his cure. He had a wounded heart that never healed. She was a disgrace, that's what she was told. She had her secrets cremented at the back of her soul. She had her past. She was a venom in a silver bowl. She drew all the colors from his life as soon as she stepped in. His easy going life became a living hell. A HEATED LOVETRIANGE complicating three lives in a long run. A HEARTBREAKING STORY of ERIC CULLEN ❤️ VIONA WAFFLES

From the author of You, my Punishment and Have you..? 'Vincent Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would get the happiness inside him. Many people thought he was mad and stupid for doing so because the paint was toxic, never mind that it was obvious that eating paint couldn't possible have any direct correlation to one's happiness, but I never saw that. If you were so unhappy that even the maddest ideas could possible work, like painting the walls of your internal organs yellow, than you are going to do it. It's really no different than falling in love or taking drugs. There is a greater risk of getting your heart broken or overdosing, but people still do it everyday because there was always that chance it could make things better. Everyone has their yellow paint.' I closed the page of my laptop and sighed. The things I've been reading were not helping me to have peace with myself. I looked in the corner of my room. It looked gorgeous. The blue balloon looked gorgeous. Blue stands for communication, for trust. For logic and for calm. Blue is thinking, light, sun, sky. But to me, blue has the worse inside. To me blue is cold. Blue has lack of emotion. Blue is unfriendly. It was never there for me. No one was. Blue looked gorgeous from the outside, but from the inside it was empty. Empty as my soul. Nila was having a battle inside of her. Her mind wasn't logical. Things never made sense. She was trying to find something, but always ended up with empty hands. She knew that there was a truth somewhere hidden in the world. She knew she would find it. She started receiving letters that was going to change that. But what she didn't know was how broken she would be when she finally found it. How many broken blue balloons will there be when she has finally peace with her mind, peace with her own yellow paint. ~ Islamic romance story. I warn you for the grammar mistakes.

"I know that we will never be a real couple, but we can at least be nice to each other Aneel" I told him. I've had enough. Tears were starting to prick my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. He looked over at me in a weird expression. Like if I died in front of him, he wouldn't care. "You don't get it, do you?! I. will. never. love. you! I will never care for you. You wait, every day, for me to come home and have dinner with you like normal couples do- you are pathetic. You are nothing! Absolutely nothing to me. You are not even worth my words. You are a loser who has nobody- your parents? They are just like me. They knew that you were worthless and wanted to get rid of you" he said angrily. I was not angry at him. He was telling the truth. I'm nothing. Never was, never will. I nodded. He was right. He was so damn right. Sahra Ali is eighteen years old when she gets married. It was not a marriage out of love, no, she was forced into it. Shre grew up being abused. Her parents sold her for money. No parent would do that, so are her so called parents her real parents? She is trying to survive this marriage, because she believes in Allah and knows that He had a good reason that He gave her all these pain. Aneel Osman is a badboy who wants nothing to do with Islam. He was a muslim when he was younger, but when something bad happened, he blamed Allah for it. Deep inside he knows that it is wrong, but shoves that thought away. He began doing the things Allah prohibited. There was no one to hold onto or to pull him out. He kept falling and falling. And when he has to deal with that girl his parents wants him to marry, he is losing himself more and more. Read the description in the book for the fully version! This is a short draft! ~ Salaam guys, this story is edited! Almost everything has CHANGED and it is now a mature story. I like how it turned out. Thank you for all your support! It still contains small grammar mistakes. You have been warned:)