I squeezed my way through the abundant number of people, trying to get to the exit. I bumped into a lot of shoulders, until I found an opening. As soon as the door was in my sight, I heard Jessie calling out my name. Her voice grabbed my attention, and I briskly turned around. I knocked right into a tall figure, causing me to lose my balance and fall. All the people dancing blocked my vision so I couldn't grab onto anything to prevent myself from falling. My arms met the hardwood floor as I tried to catch myself, sending a shock of pain through my arms. "Forgive me ma'am." Someone said while extending an arm down to me. "It's fine. No harm was-" ✰ Status: FInished NOTE*** This story contains mental illness and suicidal themes. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION! ***and mild cussing My grammar probably sucks I researched thoroughly on bpd to portray Damien's character correctly but I'm sorry if it's not accurate. I in no way meant for the portrayal of someone with a borderline personality disorder to be represented wrong or only seen from stereotypes. ★ Best Rankings ★ Assault- #1 Borderlinepersonalitydisorder- #1 Bpd- #8 Captive- #44 Selfharmawareness- #55 Darklove- #57 Mentalillness- #81 Copyright © 2020

~book the first~ Hello, reader. My name is Sage. I'm the ex-ward of Mycroft Holmes, currently living with his brother, Sherlock Holmes. I was recently inspired to take account of my adventures the past few years, just in case it's ever needed and because I wanted to. So, enjoy this epic tale of crime, drama, murder, and sarcasm. P.S. Whatever you do with this document, BE CAREFUL. It contains a great deal of insider information and blackmail material. If this were to fall into the hands of Moriarty, I'm afraid we'd be in deep trouble, so it's up to you to keep it safe. /please note: this is a FANFICTION. So a lot of it is FICTION, and doesn't follow the original BBC storyline fact for fact. So please, no comments about how "it happened this way in the show". Thanks./

Simply exhausted of all colour. Wasted. I didn't lie down. I didn't blink. I just sat there, staring into nothingness, waiting for something to materialise into my vision. Something. Anything. I had kept Sherlock away. Kept him away from his death, for so long. So long. Little did I know, all he needed was a little jump from a rooftop. It wouldn't take me long either, would it? I wasn't going to die. I needed relief. I needed disconnection. Disorientation. Oblivion. Ignorance. Because ignorance is bliss. It was in my hand, now. Like vengeance disguised in forgiveness. Breathe. Steady. Hold. Control. . . . Now. Pain shot through my arms and my palms, like my nails were being pulled out. It spread like fire, like ice cold fire, still burning like coals. My limbs were numb. I fell onto the bed, my mouth pressed into the sheet at an odd angle. I was too fatigued to change it. Too drowned to change it. Drowned too deep. To change anything. I'd never done this. Was I going to die? It'd be better if I died. What would that feel like? Flying? Better that this I suppose. Don't you think, Sherlock? [TW: IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING WITH PTSD SCHIZOPHRENIA DEPRESSION ANXIETY PANIC DISORDERS DRUGS OR ARE TRIGGERED BY ANYTHING ELSE PLEASE PROCEED WITH DISCRETION. GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF NEAR- SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND VIOLENCE AND ZERO CLOSURE LIKE LITERALLY NO CLOSURE]

When you think you've been through the worst thing to ever happen to you, something new comes to prove that everything you thought was safe isn't, and everyone you thought had your back doesn't. You're left to fend for yourself in a place that never wanted you to begin with. Even when you think you've escaped it, it comes creeping in to remind you that it's always been there to pull you back into its clutches. Along the way, you find comfort in a place you didn't think you'd find it. You find love in someone you thought didn't want it. You find solace within yourself when you thought you've lost it. It all comes down to you. Are you going to fight for it or completely drown in it?

While tortured and held captive as a prisoner of war, she became my reason to keep breathing. The force that fueled my will to fight. To survive. When I woke after the rescue to discover the life I thought I was coming home to was but a figment of my imagination, hallucinations brought about by pain, desperation, and isolation... it nearly broke me. Fifteen years since I first lost her, at last, we have a second chance. Holding her in my arms, finally feeling the warmth of her skin as she melts under my touch, is like a dream. She and her two little girls are now as essential to my existence as the air I breathe. However, just as things start falling into place, the universe steps in, threatening to take it all away. I used to think that choosing her cost me everything I'd ever loved, but now I see that in choosing her and her children, I have the chance to reclaim all that I lost. They are my salvation. My true path to redemption. Which is why I'll leave no stone unturned, why I will scorch this world to the ground if that's what it takes to save them. And when I do, I will fight to convince her once and for all they are meant to be mine, just as I was destined to be theirs.

Matteo:"you thought you could run away from me hun wifey"? Asked while roughly grabbing her hand Amelia:"N-no.. I wasn't trying to e-s..escape Ple-pls matteo I-just want some free-freedom"said while crying and fear Matteo:"amore don't you think it's been a long time since you got punished,that's why your talking nonsensical words"said with anger, next second Amelia was lying on floor crying with pain clutching her leg as Matteo SHOT HER LEG "this is the same leg that you used to escape see now I made it easy for you" Said with a sinister glint in his eyes

A Sherlock fanfiction. Moriarty is back, and everyone knows it. A tragedy strikes the Watson household. Dozens of little crimes pop up all over London. A Minister of Parliament vanishes. What does it all mean? And meanwhile, England's favorite flatmates are forced to re-evaluate the extent of their live-in relationship. This is my first Sherlock fanfic, so please do give me as much constructive criticism as humanely possible. Likewise, it's slash (imagine that). If John and Sherlock being in a relationship is a problem for you, you may not want to read this. On that note, I should likewise add that I intend this to be the darkest story I have written to date. Expect character death, torture, violence, sexual content, and etcetera. Enjoy.

Okay, don't worry. You're ready. They'd be lucky to have you. You're a badass, and if you don't get the job, then screw them its their loss. You waited impatiently in the elevator. The first person you notice when the doors open is a tall man with messy hair and mismatched socks. "Hi, I'm Jo Blaise. I'm looking for SSA Hotchner's office" you smiled. *Trigger Warnings: domestic violence, rape, child abuse, mental illness, swearing* *Note: these characters do not belong to me and are not created by me* best ratings: #4 in spencerreid #2 in criminalmindsfanfic #25 in criminalminds

Mycroft had always warned Sherlock that feelings can get in the way, especially when it comes to his chosen line of work. Typically, this would be the one thing the two brothers could agree on, however, when you reappear on his doorstep after years of no contact, informing Sherlock that your life's in danger, he's left struggling with both his feelings and what happened in your shared past. How can he possibly pretend such strong emotions have never existed when they still remain?

Warning‼️This book contains abtruse topics such as Dark love, Abuse, Violence etc. You have been warned. "I thought after 3months of dealing with my anger, when I finally saw you again the desire to skin you alive and add your pretty skin to my collection would have died down." he said camly looking at me. His game on pause for a second. My heart dropped to my feet. My eyes were wandering between him and the items close to him as I blinked the tears away. "Sylas- please. You have to understand-" I felt more scared seeing as his attention was back on the board and not on me. Dying was an exceptional thing for me but death by Sylas I couldn't even begin to imagine. "Sprich nicht."(Don't speak.) His native tongue did something to me. I gulped being unable to look at his eyes even though they were on the chess board. "What did you think was going to happen Mäuschen?" he asked giving me his full attention. Every Fibre in my body wanted to run, my mind was screaming for me to run but I knew that wouldn't get me anywhere, it would just make him more excited. "Lay your hands on the table." he commanded moving the chess board further from him. I now wished he continued with his game. I didn't want all of his attention. I complied to his instruction with trembling hands knowing I had no choice. "Which finger did you use?" he asked casually grabbing the hammer and standing up causing a sob to wreck through me. I harshly bit into my bottom lip to stop the begging that was at the tip of my tongue, I knew he wouldn't listen, he only just wanted his answer but I had no control over my tears. .. She wishes she never met him, but wishes only come true in fairy tales.