Story cover for Breathing Deeply by NatashaNorman
Breathing Deeply
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    Leituras 11
  • WpVote
    Votos 0
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 2
  • WpHistory
    Tempo 6m
  • WpView
    Leituras 11
  • WpVote
    Votos 0
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 2
  • WpHistory
    Tempo 6m
Em andamento, Primeira publicação em jul 15, 2014
Have you ever just stopped what you  were doing just to breathe? Have you ever taken the time out of your day to just breathe and say "No matter what, I can still smell and taste....I. Am. Still. Alive" I didn't either. I was too lost in my despair and confusion. Too deep in the abyss of darkness....till I saw his hand...till I fell in love.
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Fatal Attraction: Falling into a Cruel love (Boyxboy), de KatieHartx
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Why did he kidnap me? This happened 3 months ago. Many times I have tried to escape the clutches of his rough hands. Many times I have cried for help. But I need to get stronger in order to escape from him. Now, three months later, I think about this, but now my feelings are different. I wanted to kill him, to make him suffer the way he made me suffer. "Do it, kill him!" Is what I'm thinking. "Kill him and it will be over. I will be able to escape." The mask that was hiding his identity looks at me as I hold the knife to his throat. The whole time I been wondering why I didn't just slit his throat. He told me to do it, to finish him but I couldn't, I just couldn't. I couldn't hate him for the times he whipped me or raped me. I just couldn't. I looked at him holding the knife to his throat with a shaky hand. No matter how hard I try I can't hate him. No matter how hard I try I can't get the knife to slice Reidson's throat. Dropping the knife on the floor I look at his face. I couldn't see his eyes because of the white mask. Now the same hands that used to be so rough became soft and warm. He still beats and rapes me but I figured out why I didn't hate him for making me suffer like this with these same hands that hurt me so cruelly are now touching my face gently. I held his hand to my chest as I look at his masked face. His hand is stained with blood. My blood. I look at his face, I have fallen into a cruel love.
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Would it have changed anything if I had told you this before? Would it have sugarcoated everything and made it better? I guess we'll never know or maybe I'll never know. But most importantly had I stayed longer, had I admitted my feelings to myself and had I realized I loved you; maybe it could've been better. You only know, about me, what you've been told but it never really mattered to you because they were nothing more than rumors. But it's too late to turn back the hands of time, too late for me to come back, too late for you to still love me and too late for you to untouch me...