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Painful Love

Painful Love

Romance
last updateLast Updated : 2021-10-22
By:  Cedron's WingsCompleted
Language: English
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I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history cl once said that I had perfect s. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My s. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Angelina Valentine." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Angel," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Edwin. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.

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20 Chapters
At first
 "We should have taken a fucking flight. It will take a road to hell if we keep moving by your car," groans Mahone beside him, looking at the road impatiently.Lynn frowns after hearing about his favorite Mercedes-Benz. "There's no flight available within three hours. I already checked," he replies, gripping the steering wheel more tightly."Of course, you did.""Can you call Sam to ask where she is now? Tell her not to do anything__ stupid.""She will never do anything stupid, you know that and you're not helping her by telling this, okay? By the way, I just remember that apparently I don't have her phone number."Lynn sighs and pulls out his mobile from his pocket, then tosses it to his brother. "Tell her that we are coming, too.""We're not gonna make it in time, Lynn, if we're going to go by your car," he guesses the pin and unlocks it. "Still your birthday, huh? You should change the number, it's as easy as water," he scrol
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Closer to him
 I wake up in the morning, at least I think so that it's still morning. What made me wake up from my deep sleep? I glance around the bed and see that my phone is vibrating."Sorry, don't in a mood to answer," I mutter.I switch it off without glancing, because now I have no intention to go back to my house. My head is still hurting and processing the events what happened at yesterday.I sit up on the bed, brushing my messy hair. This house isn't mine, it's my Aunt Sicily's. When she went to Canada for a quite long time, she gave me her house keys and told me to look after it. I had almost forgotten about that until last night."Shit!" I wince in pain when I place my legs on the floor. Why didn't I feel the pain before? I thought a good night's sleep would reduce the hurt, but it didn't. How can I even move my legs after jumping from a three-storey ancient building? I think surprisingly. Then I look out the window in frustration, I can't make
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A Ball room
 "Do I look okay?" Lucas points at his outfit."No, you look like you're going to collapse," I answer and close the passenger door. "You need to loosen up a bit, Lu, you're not going to an interview. So, stay calm."   Today afternoon, I've come to the Greenham Manor with my friend Lucas, my grandparents arranged a social party because of my father's returning. It still seems like unreal to me, you know, that my father has returned. When he returned home, he looked quiet and sad, like he couldn't believe that he was back to his family. The news in television on paper are saying that an inmate has escaped San Quentin state prison name Adam Hirands, but no news are mentioning a thing about my father or Mahone. Of course, our family has already informed the mass media about my father's returning and ignored the reason of his missing situation, because it would cause more gossip and rumors.I smile brightly and tangle my arm with Lucas's, walk
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Nothing
"Ah...." Celandine observed the man curiously who just came out from the chamber, going downstairs. She noticed the small hand batch on his black robe, wondering what that might be meaning.     Suddenly everything around her changed.    They traveled dawn to dusk, past woods and orchards and neatly tended fields, through small villages, crowded market towns, and stout holdfasts. Come dark, they would make camp and eat by the light of the moon and the lamps. The men took turns standing watch. Celandine would glimpse firelight flickeringthrough the trees from the camps of other travelers. There seemed to be more camps every night, and more traffic on the kingsroad by day. She somehow knew it was a dream. Morning, noon, and night they came, old folks and little children, big men and small ones, barefo
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Poison
      His head ached. His senses were strangely dulled; a peculiar lethargy assailed every bone and muscle in his body.  Mathios rolled onto his back and sought to recall where he was. Eventually he was forced to resort to prising his eyelids apart in order to survey his surroundings and settle that pressing question. He managed to focus on the rough beams that supported the roof of the shelter, but this was not his longhouse. There were none of the familiar scents that pervaded his home—the aroma of baking bread or the smell of madder boiling over the fire to make dye. His stepmother’s cheerful chatter was absent also. Instead he was surrounded by silence, broken only by the occasional snuffle or snore. He turned his head to the right. Vikarr lay sound asleep not a foot from him. To his left he spied Ivar, just starting to stir.  &ldq
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Fear and Threat
  The morning air was dark with the smoke of burning goods. The old dry wood and countless layers of paint and varnish blazed with a fierce hungry light. Heat rose shimmering through the chill air; behind, the gargoyles and stone dragons on the castle walls seemed blurred, as if Moriah were seeing them through a veil of tears. Or as if the beasts were trembling, stirring . . . "An ill thing," Hadassah declared, though at least she had the sense to keep her voice low.  "Silence," said Moriah. "Remember where you are."  They were heading to the Garden. Hundreds had come to the battle gates to bear witness to the burning of the Battle of Blood. The smell in the air was ugly. Even for soldiers, it was hard not to feel uneasy at such an affront to the gods most had worshiped all their lives. Moriah was thinking about his ancestors. They had overturn
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Black Magic
   At the same night, Hadassah had started a big fire at the middle of the Battle of Blood, while she was in the possession of little Celandine's body.  The large vessel on the fire was filled with the sacred water for witches from Black Lake. It was an inaccessible lake inside a forest, only who had witch blood in their veins, could approach there. Beside the pyre, there were some ingredients which she would need to return back to her true self."Bonesbane," she muttered and picked up the tiniest bowl contained with a few bone shaped dark green leaves. She stared at the boiling black water for a while, then dropped the leaves into it and chanted, "Confundo."   The flames exploded around the pyre when the leaves touched the water, her ragged breath quickened. She took a sharp intake and knelt in front of the pyre and picked up the next ingredient. "Blood Soil," she muttered and poured the brown soil and tiny pebbles into t
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In a bad day
  The morning air was dark with the smoke of burning goods. The old dry wood and countless layers of paint and varnish blazed with a fierce hungry light. Heat rose shimmering through the chill air; behind, the gargoyles and stone dragons on the castle walls seemed blurred, as if Moriah were seeing them through a veil of tears. Or as if the beasts were trembling, stirring . . . "An ill thing," Hadassah declared, though at least she had the sense to keep her voice low.  "Silence," said Moriah. "Remember where you are."  They were heading to the Garden. Hundreds had come to the battle gates to bear witness to the burning of the Battle of Blood. The smell in the air was ugly. Even for soldiers, it was hard not to feel uneasy at such an affront to the gods most had worshiped all their lives. Moriah was thinking about his ancestors. They had overturn
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Ugly Truth
Mahone quickly adjusts the scope rings for the second time and pulls the trigger."Hey, wait, wait," Lynn calls out at the walkie-talkie from the down road. "Stop shooting.""Why? I haven't emptied the chamber yet.""Stop it, Mahone."    He sighs and picks up the rifle by its carrying handle. He glances at the .50 BMG cartridges miserably, regretting that he can't use them anymore right now, his brother forbade him. He pushes the gun into a plastic container and eyes the rooftop for the last time, if someone was here, fortunately it is empty. He grips the bag tightly and steps to the emergency elevator for exit, covering his eyes by the cap, because police will be here in any moment."How many bullets did you use?" Lynn asks, when they both already got in the car."Seven. Five missed. Before you say somethin' I would like you to remind you that I'm not a professional sniper.""Where are the another two?" he steers the wheel
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Thunder
Moriah was gazing at his reflection.  His tight black armor was made from iron, the breastplate was lined with transmuted thin craft of gold, the symbol of his army Wolf was carved in the left side of the plate. He saw his gesture in the mirror, as cold as always, two piercing and cruel eyes, small stubble around his chin. He blinked, slightly wondering why he was looking at himself, it was unlike of him.It was also a big day for him.  He moved to corner of his room, stooping beside the giant bed. There was a mark on the golden wall, just like a small scratch of nails, it couldn't be shown if someone didn't look carefully. He took a deep breath and pressed his palm over the scratch, to reveal his secret chamber under the ground. Since, it was going to be a great day for him, he would want to have a talk with his Lord.    With a buzzing sound, a passage emerged behind the wall, there were dusty staircases going down. Moriah picked u
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