Kashia is not an ordinary woman. In fact, nothing about her is ordinary. She is stuck in her own world, killing people which she thinks is her way of doing public service. Until a client gave her a very special assignment: to kill the famous Harry Styles. Will Kashia still have the guts to kill him once she knows who he really is? (published 2012)

Carter Noel is a quiet girl that has gone through hell and back. Hoping to escape her past, she leaves to the UK in order to start a new life. Enrolling at Brentwood Boarding School, Carter comes across Harry Styles, a boy that reminds her of what she left behind. Everything she ran away from comes face to face with her but there's something about him that draws her back. Will her past keep her from falling in love or will it protect her from what she's afraid of? DO NOT COPY THIS STORY! *Copyright Violators Will Suffer The Consequences & my vicious wrath grrr* no I'm serious, if people copy this I will NOT post anymore!

I know why I loved to kill. It's all I ever knew. I loved the blood, the screams, and the way I carved my name into each victims flesh. I may be psychotic or mentally unstable but I wasn't insane enough to love her. She was scared of me and I liked it that way. I liked the way she bore "Harry" right across her lower stomach. It suited her. I just never in my life loved anything other than killing. Ridley was just different; I was different and not like the different I always am. However, she made me feel a different that can only be described as heart wrenched love. Love that eats you up inside because you know it shouldn't exist.

She had two main hobbies in life; drawing and stalking him. Ever since she entered her teen years, he had caught her attention, she stalked him like a middle-school love sick teenager, watching him from her window and sketching his one too many tattoos either or a sunny day or a cold winter night. Paz kept telling herself that she’s just a nosy neighbor and she was just intrigued by his mysterious vibe, but will meeting him change that?

"I have Art with you." His deep, raspy voice surges through me. My green eyes latch with his. I've never seen anything like them; they're huge and they sparkle, standing out against his dark fringe of lashes that brush his cheek when he blinks. His heart shaped lips curve into a sweet, inviting smile, pink and plump. His hair is dark and curly and shiny and... "Sorry, I have to go..." I push myself off of the ground with all of my strength, my fingers clasping around my bag and pulling it up with me. I hurry past him, my heart rate beginning to speed as my shoulder brushes his forearm. I'm terrified at this point. That small little touch...it made a sort of heat trickle all over my body, down to my toes. My whole body seems to go up in flames at the stupid contact our skin made, and when I look in the mirror of the girl's bathroom, my hair is just a few shades more orange than it's usual red, seeming like it's set ablaze. This can't be good. *** DISCLAIMER; This book is purely from my imagination and mine only. That means there shouldn't really be a duplicate one of me out there unless there's an alternate universe I'm not aware of. In other words; Do NOT copy my story, please. It's 100% mine from my brain, except for any characters that are being used fictionally. This story is a work of fiction as well. Thanks. (:

My name's Marcel. Nerd. Poet. Teenage Loser. You think you know the real me, but you don't. I wish you could see the true me, but no one has cared enough to. Until she came. All rights go to _smilelikeniall (myself). Everything is written by me. No copyright intended. Please do not claim my words and/ or ideas as yours. Do not repost my words without giving me credit. Thank you.

"Agent 864, I want you to hurt her, not physically, but mentally. Make her as weak as a napkin, exhaust her until she breaks as if she is being thrown against a wall like a glass vase. Suck out every single emotion she has and then bring her here - totally empty. I want you to destroy her." ~*~ There is something hidden inside the walls of Holmes Chapel, something - or someone - powerful without knowing it. Many seek for it, doing things for it the daylight could not even handle and with finally having found out who holds the secret hidden deep under her skin, Agent 864 gets the mission to rip it out of Olivia's body, but uses a very unique way to succeed. {Themes; psychological thriller, romance, mature, & science fiction.} Highest position in ranking: Mysterie / Thriller #1 / Sciencefiction #1

DISCLAIMER: This story was written in late 2012. I wrote Strings Attached as an adolescent with no idea how a healthy, adult relationship should function. This story is dark and twisted in a way that my teen mind couldn't comprehend at the time. There are more than a few scenes in this book with sensitive content. I--in no way--support rape culture and I do not condone my character's actions. However, as I said, this story was written in an ignorant state of mind. I will not remove this story from Wattpad. It is part of my past and though I am disappointed with the content, it shows how far I've come not just as an author but as a free-thinking adult. Thank you for reading. **Excerpt** "Say... it," She gasped, throwing her head back, cupping my face in her hands so that I was forced to meet her gaze. "You're mine." She held my gaze for a second more, before crushing her lips against my own, arms wrapping tight around my neck, pulling me down to her level. Arms sliding easily around her, she wrapped her legs around me as I lifted her up, lips traveling over her chest and collarbone. She moaned as my hands dug into her tender flesh, pulling on it, their violence a stark contrast to the gentle kisses teasing their way up her neck. Bright lines marked the paths that my nails had etched into her skin, marking her, beautiful red tattoos, spreading out over her entire body. Her small hands knotted in my hair, pulling harder and harder as she fought the urge to cry out...

When I woke up, I felt the ropes around my wrists. The air was cold and everything was quiet. I was the only one in that dark room until the sound of footsteps made ​​my heart race. I did not know what I was doing there, or how did I get there. I don't remember anything after the party, nothing after that tattooed boy named Harry.

Was it her beauty that reeled me in? The mysterious, deep, color her eyes contained? Or her addictive smile, smell, or even her personality? It was none of these things. The reason she's too afraid and too sad to even talk is what made her even more mysterious and captivating to me. Not talking for six years as a side affect from a tragic accident is what I learned had caused it; her sister and mothers death traumatized her. And my goal is to help her break free, to help her gain the courage to live her life to the fullest. To speak to me.