Story cover for He Broke Me by DunmolaAyomide
He Broke Me
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Ongoing, First published Jul 18, 2020
I hate him, he hates me.

I guess you know that type of a relationship,"it's hate-hates " and am sure it's not the type that goes with the saying "There is a thin line between  love and hate" cause this is different.

Now I think you've figured out the relationship that exist between I,Amelia Smith and he,Elijah Cullen.

Elijah is the schools its boy and probably has girls fallen at his feet,24|7 which am sure am not a part of though I might have had a long time crush on him.

But since he has made it his life mission to make me miserable, and the fact that he doesn't realize that I like him before he went ahead to fuck anything that has a hole between their legs,makes it possible to hate him with every fiber of my being.

But right now, he's planning to break me or so he said, I guess we're in the long run together.
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She swears she hates him. He's convinced he hates her more. But when secrets, lies, and late-night whispers begin to blur the line between enemies and something they wouldn't even consider, neither of them is ready for what's coming. *** Aliana is loud, impulsive, and dangerously unpredictable. She lies when she's scared, smiles when she's breaking, and keeps everyone away with her endless sarcasm and sharp tongue. She doesn't need anyone. Especially not him. Ali is silent storms and cold stares. The boy with the bad reputation, a past no one talks about, and a temper that makes people flinch. He wants nothing to do with drama, especially when it wears red lipstick and calls him names. They can't stand each other. So why do they keep ending up alone in the same room? Why does every fight feel like foreplay? And why does hating him hurt more than it should? ~~~~~~ He kisses me, again and again, raw and consuming, and then pulls away; I can feel his green eyes piercing my soul. "What you told me last time, say it again," he whimpers breathlessly. "What?" I manage to ask, confused, and reel him in again for another kiss. He pulls back again, his breath hot against my skin. "That you hate me, tell me that you hate me." "I hate you," I tell him almost instantly, the lie burning on my tongue. He kisses me harder and more hungrily, and the words slip out again from my tongue: "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." His murmurs deepen into groans, and at this exact moment, I ask myself how I'm still standing, still breathing, still present. ~~~~~~