Novel & Cerita A Thorn That Pierces Me

, Rose stomped her foot whilst expressing her deep disgust at what her mother is asking of her. “My sweet Rose, your thorns are showing… remember that young ladies need to be seen in society and present a calmness even when they don’t feel it inside”, spoke Opal serenely. “I know you would rather be out playing with your cousins but those boys are too rough and you are at an age where you can’t be rolling about playing in the muck!”, she continued.

Amara Blake POV The walls of my house were thin. So thin I could hear the clock tick in the kitchen from my bed. So thin the neighbors probably heard the way my mother smiled with her voice and slashed with her words. So thin I could almost pretend I wasn’t trapped inside. Almost. I sat curled up on the farthest corner of my mattress, arms wrapped around my knees, textbook open but untouched in front of me. Calculus formulas blurred on the page, swimming in and out of focus as the fight downstairs rose in pitch — another argument about the car payment, about the dirty dishes, about the way I “forgot” to call my father “sir” yesterday.

No, this was all her. “I will show you what power really feels like, Luna. What pain really feels like!” She roared in my mind. A loud, mind-shattering roar. My waist twisted, my ribs snapping as I felt her tearing through my skin. “Stop. It hurts.” I screamed, feeling the pain swirling like a raging storm under my skin. Thorns. Tiny ones. Lots of them were pricking my skin all at once. Every nerve came alive in my body as the pain chipped away at my consciousness.

The harsh elements seemed almost fitting, a cruel reflection of my inner despair. “Ouch!” I winced as a thorn pierced the thin skin of my toe, the sharp pain jolting me momentarily from my sorrow. The night only seemed to get worse. Perhaps the moon goddess had heard my silent plea. I was about to vanish in this desolate place, disappearing without a trace from everyone’s lives. Such grace! A faint, sarcastic smile spread across my face as I pulled out the thorn, watching more blood ooze from the fresh wound. Maybe my long-standing wish to die naturally was about to be granted. Yes, you are right! I was too cowardly to end it myself despite everything.

Until my feet touched more than one thorn, I collapsed to the ground, reaching for my foot as I cried out in pain. My heart was racing out of my chest. I could hear my own heart beat as I inhaled and exhaled deeply. I was sweating and the feeling of blood on my skin wasn't helping. I panted and all the energy I had, had vanish. I needed somebody to help. It was like I was meant to step on that thorn. Like I couldn't actually escape. Like I didn't deserve to.

Enough to see the shadow of someone at the far edge, blurred by grey. I didn’t look long. I bolted left. The path took me straight into a nest of thorn. The first scrape surprised me; the next dozen felt personal. I kept my head down and tore through, leaving a small offering of skin behind. The thorns grabbed my hair, and I ripped it free. My breathing got ragged. My heart felt too big and too fast. He feels me, my mark said, loud and sure. No. Different. Far. Hot. The promise of him pulsed once and was gone.

she asked, her voice barely a whisper. His hand finally rose, but not to touch her skin. He traced the air just beside her cheek, and she felt the ghost of a sensation, a whisper of coolness and static. “Then you will learn that a thorn’s purpose is not only to wound,” he murmured, his breath ghosting past her ear. “It is to anchor. To make you feel so deeply that you can never pull away.”

I couldn’t make out the words since they weren’t in English and I didn’t know any other languages, but whatever the language, there was a sad undertone to the song. I didn’t notice that I’d leaned forward onto the gate until I felt something pierce the skin of my finger and I let out a sharp gasp of pain. The song faded instantly as I brought my fingers closer to my eyes to watch a thin line of blood trickling down my index finger. I averted my eyes to the gate where my hand had been and saw for the first time that it wasn’t any normal rose thorn that had pierced my skin, but a thorn from a Black Rose plant. “Why don’t you come forward so I can take a look?”

I wondered again, resuming my movement and groaning loudly again as things got even worse and the trees were so tightly together that I had to squeeze myself to pass in between them. I groaned frustratingly again, my throat aching, as a thorn grazed my arm, sharp enough to tear my skin even when I was putting on a long-sleeved shirt that was layered enough to even act as a bullet proof. But the stubborn thorn had found a way to my arms, adding more pains and frustration to my journey to the unknown land, sang by my intuition. The pain from the thorn began to grow even more excruciating, surprising me very much with how such a little thing could disturb me so much and cause such a great unres

“If I’ve failed you, if you believe I’ve broken that promise… then I’ll punish myself. Until you believe me again.” Wait… what in the world? Did I hear him right? My throat went dry. “Thorne…” He straightened, eyes dark and wild, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt with agonizing slowness. The bandage around his ribs pulled taut, stained faintly red where it had bled through. “Every time you doubt me,” he drawled, “I’ll take the pain for you. Every cut, every bruise, every scar—let them mark me instead of you.”