lilly's writing
lilly's writing's Book(1)
NO PAIN NO GAME
Short stories NO PAIN NO GAME
Hi, I’m called Caroline and this is my story on how pain became my best friend. Growing up in a family of nine is an experience no one will enjoy in any life time. Having a narcissistic dad and very toxic mum, not to talk of my siblings I hate to love. Did I mention I was adopted, not technically but this wasn’t my family by blood and not by choice either, this was the family I just had to accept.
Always sacrificing and never getting appreciated for. As time went by, I became more aware of my place here, sad but true. I prayed every day for saving, Lord see me through for I trust you. Thinking that day had come when my mum told me I was finally going to meet my real family. The joy and excitement was one I couldn’t describe and was going to be the last in a long while. Clueless and naïve I trusted this woman who has never for one shown me love.
I can believe she sold me off for comfort. Furious but scared and frightened for my new owner was the devil you could try to picture but never imagine. Living with this pain as a reminded every day of my life. Abused and molested, an object not to be subjected to being a person. Can this just be a dream. A prisoner to life and a slave to pain. I can swear the heavens shut its eyes and ears on me. I must have been so bad in my previous life to have experienced this.
Waking up in a strange apartment in new clothes wasn’t something I had a plan. Was I sold again? Why are you surprised I asked myself while I looked around. This place looked so different, very calm and peaceful, somewhere I will love. There he comes to have a taste of his new meal. Why the pause though? Why is he calm? The silent scared me. A young man holding a tray of breakfast staring at me in a way no one has ever before. His eyes brought me comfort. This was my escape and freedom.
I couldn’t let go of the past. This man thought me how to be strong and I took this to my advantage to cause pain on anyone who came my way, living to kill before getting killed. The world was a jungle and I wasn’t going to be eaten. I’ve never seen anyone display so much toughness and love at the same time. I was falling in love with the image in his eyes for he was the only one who understood me.
Love was never in the plan and will never will I thought but this was where I felt safe. I gave in unknowingly and we became the mafia couple hated by all but in love with each other. Here comes an unexpected twist, he was the son of my owner, my abuser, my satan. I swear this must have been their plot to snatch life from me in the worst way. How can I love this man again?
I made new rules and new plans for revenge. He was my tool for revenge, I had to use him regardless of my emotions. First I had to get rid of my family and then him, satan. He helped me well with all my plans unknowingly so I thought. I couldn’t hurt him still, regardless of my plans.
He was my end. A romantic dinner I planned on a secluded island to do the deal. I wrote a letter and left behind willing everything to the poor and my workers. This couldn’t fix the harm I did but I hoped it brought some joy to the ones who read. He stared at me with those eyes now filled with tears. He had known all along but he didn’t stop me.
This was the answer to my prayers but I was to blind to see. Too late now for we had both drank the poisoned wine and help was never close. “ I love you and will always do “ he whispered as I made I silent prayer “ Lord, forgive me for I have sin. No one is to be blamed but me. Here is the answer to what I asked but I didn’t see. Now I know you love me and wanted me to experience it here on earth. I’m not worthy to be in heaven but wherever I go can I keep this treasure with me to remind me of you. There will always be pain in the game so I chose to end the game and release the pain. Thank you for this last moment”.
It was now the end of what could have been. MY END AND ME.
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The Truth About His Mistress
Gavin I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch.
Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son."
My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional."
His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp.
Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family."
He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back."
The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized.
How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family?
But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified.
They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation.
They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear.
I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust. When Love Turns to Ash
Gavin My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend.
From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down."
That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny.
But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded.
I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said."
Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off."
My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers.
I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal.
Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing.
As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury.
In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho."
How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me?
Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault?
Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred?
I would not be his victim.
Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done.
I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties.
This was not an escape; this was my rebirth.
Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises. When Love Died, Freedom Began
Gavin The jagged glass bit into Amelia Hayes' s cheek.
"Help me," she choked into the phone, but her husband, Ethan Caldwell, snapped: "Amelia, for God' s sake, I' m in a meeting."
A sharp blow, then darkness.
She awoke not in her blood-slicked car, but in her opulent master bedroom, the calendar marking three months after her wedding. Three months into a marriage that had already begun to kill her.
Ethan stood by the window, his voice softening, "Yes, Jessica, tonight sounds perfect." Jessica Thorne, his true love, the shadow over Amelia' s first life. The familiar ache in Amelia' s chest gave way to a chilling, new fury.
For seven miserable years, she had given Ethan desperate, unyielding devotion.
She endured his coldness, his brazen affairs, his emotional abuse, all for a flicker of his attention.
She had become a shell, a caricature, ridiculed by Ethan' s circle and condescended to by his family.
The profound injustice, the sheer blindness of his indifference, was a bitter pill. Her heart, once broken, now felt nothing but a hollow echo of unrequited love.
Then, at a gala, a cruel act involving Eleanor' s ashes, and Ethan, without hesitation, shoved Amelia, his accusations echoing: "You are a disgrace."
He comforted Jessica while Amelia' s head reeled from the impact. That was the final straw.
No tears, no anger. Just a cold resolve. She delivered a small velvet box to his penthouse. Inside: the wedding ring and a divorce decree.
"I. Want. You. Out. Of. My. Life. Forever," she stated, her voice clear. She was reborn to be free. Where Concrete Daisies Bloom
Gavin I' d finally done it.
My resignation letter officially landed on Mr. Henderson' s expensive mahogany desk, putting a ruthless period on years of being Ethan Cole' s secret convenience.
But freedom was fleeting.
Isabella, his fiancée and my tormentor, summoned me to Ethan' s TriBeCa penthouse, wielding an old, whimsical sketch of mine like a weapon, then slapped me clean across the face.
Ethan arrived, and instead of defending me, he smoothed Isabella' s perfect, glistening fake tears, dismissing me as someone who "meant nothing" -just "a release."
Emboldened, Isabella snatched my portfolio, spilling my architectural dreams-designs for community centers-and pouring red wine directly onto them, staining my future crimson.
Ethan then tossed a wad of cash at my feet, his voice flat: "For the dry cleaning. Now get out."
I stumbled out into the New York downpour, each raindrop a tiny hammer pounding home the gut-wrenching humiliation of being so utterly worthless to the man I' d loved.
How could he, the center of my naive world, watch as my dignity and dreams were drowned in wine, then casually toss money as if I were a broken possession?
But in that deepest moment of despair, something snapped.
I was done being their discarded convenience, their emotional punching bag; I would disappear and rebuild a life where my peace wasn' t for sale, no matter what it took. Worshiped Him, Whipped By Him
Gavin I was just a 20-year-old NYU art history student, interning at my dad’s real estate firm. But my world privately revolved around Marcus Thorne—my father’s handsome, brilliant business partner. My crush on him was pure, all-consuming, utterly naive. He’d always been so kind, a true gentleman.
At a charity gala, I watched Izzy Vance, Marcus’s associate, subtly ply him with drinks. When I tried to help him to his suite, Izzy "found" us, her perfectly timed gasp and a discreet phone flash sealing my fate.
The next morning, headlines screamed: "NYU Intern Olivia Chen Caught in Compromising Position with Marcus Thorne." Blurry, damning photos accompanied them. Marcus’s icy call followed: "Izzy found you taking advantage of me! My reputation is in shreds because of your childish stunt!" He believed her. Completely.
Whispers and hostile stares at my father’s office became unbearable. The kind man I’d adored now looked at me with absolute disgust. My dreams shattered. How could he be so blind? So cruel? This wasn't the Marcus I knew. This felt brutally unfair.
That week, the naive girl who worshipped him died. In her place, a colder awareness dawned: the world was not kind, people not what they seemed. He thought I was playing games, but I was done. This was my turning point. Weeks Before My Wedding, My Fiancé Forgot Only Me
Gavin My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away.
After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future.
Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me.
I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call.
"Total genius move," he boasted to friends.
His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding.
Heartbroken, I feigned belief.
I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies.
He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency.
After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first.
He even tried to cut me off financially.
How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster?
His betrayal poisoned every memory.
I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty.
His audacity left me reeling.
But I wouldn’t be his victim.
Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed.
I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter.
I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom. The Wife He Designed
Gavin My life with Ethan Cole, the charismatic tech CEO, was perfect.
I was his beloved wife, carrying our first child, convinced I was the center of his universe.
But when my father fell ill, Ethan disappeared from my life, only to reappear in a crushing photo: his arm intimately around my successful cousin, Olivia Hayes.
My world shattered.
The betrayal ran deeper than I could have imagined.
I discovered I was merely a meticulously chosen stand-in, a grotesque copy of Olivia, the woman he truly loved.
He even desired our child to have *her* features, a living link to his obsession.
Every tender gesture, every shared dream, was a calculated lie, meaning my marriage, my love, and my pregnancy were all built on his monstrous deceit.
A cold rage blossomed within me; how could I have been so blind?
He believed he owned me, that I would never leave, especially with a baby on the way, confident I was a compliant fool.
He was terribly wrong.
I would not be his vessel, his substitute.
When he least expected it, while he was still flaunting his obsession, I quietly underwent an abortion.
Then, using his arrogance against him, I meticulously orchestrated my escape, securing my divorce and vanishing without a trace.
He thought he was playing me; I showed him exactly who was being played, leaving him a devastating truth about his own making. My Savior, My Obsession
Gavin I was planning my wedding to Ethan Carter, the man I adored.
On the eve of our vows, he burned my family’s home to the ground.
He wasn't my loving fiancé; he was a monster hell-bent on revenge, blaming my surgeon father for his parents' deaths.
He shattered my father's career, bankrupted us, and forced me to become a servant to his cruel new fiancée.
He delighted in my suffering, completely unaware of the devastating irony.
The heart beating in my chest wasn't my own.
It was a transplant, and his relentless torture was causing it to fail.
I finally died.
But I woke up again, as a child. And this time, my parents remembered the horror too.
We spent years building a new, safe life.
I even found real love with a kind man named Liam.
I was finally happy.
Then, yesterday, the man who murdered me walked into my classroom, his eyes full of regret, convinced our story deserved a second chance. The Taste of Sweet Karma
Gavin For seven years, I was his eyes, his hands, his constant companion.
I nursed Ethan through his blindness, celebrated his sight's return, and eventually became his lover.
I truly believed our bond, forged in his darkness and my unwavering devotion, was unbreakable.
But in the quiet bubble of his Escalade, I clearly understood every crisp Spanish word he spoke into his tablet.
He told his best friend, Ben, that his elopement with Victoria, the woman who abandoned him when he went blind, was set for tomorrow.
He chuckled, assuring Ben, "Sarah doesn't need to know. She'll always be there. She's not going anywhere."
My breath hitched as Vicky's brazen Instagram pictures of her marriage license confirmed their triumph, dated that very morning.
He barely registered my presence, quick to dismiss me, focused only on a message from his new wife.
At my own birthday party, Victoria gifted me a yapping Chihuahua, deliberately playing on my deep-seated trauma from a childhood dog attack.
Ethan pressured me to accept it, blind to my terror, then watched as I was drenched and cut by a collapsing champagne tower, shielding Victoria instead of me.
Seven years of sacrifice, of pouring my soul into his recovery, all reduced to a casual dismissal and a public humiliation.
How could he betray me so utterly, so casually, after all I'd done, after I gave him back his world?
My love wasn't a doormat, and he was wrong.
He thought I'd always be there, but this was the final breaking point.
I would sever this tie that had become a chain and disappear.
I would contact Eleanor Hayes, his powerful mother, to help me vanish, for good.