Ahs Tear You Apart Novels & Stories

Like I'm something precious. Like I might break. I won't. I've already broken. This is me putting myself back together. The kiss deepens. His mouth opening against mine. Tasting like coffee and desperation. My hands fist in his shirt. Pulling him closer. Four months of tension. Four months of pretending. Four months of wanting him and hating that I wanted him. All of it pours into this. His hands slide into my hair. Tilting my head. Taking more. I let him.

I need to stanch the flow before my legs completely refuse to carry me. I reach down, grabbing the hem of my expensive, tailored shirt—the one Theodore bought to make sure I looked like a cherished, perfect daughter. With a harsh, ragged tug, I use my teeth to tear into the fabric, pulling until a long, thick strip rips free. My manicured nails, now split and caked with black mud, dig into my skin as I clumsily reach behind myself. The friction of the dry cloth dragging across the raw, open lacerations makes my vision go completely white.

“It started to bleed again and I got worried, I didn’t speak with Aiden he would still be asleep but I will tell him in the morning I promise” I frowned at him then looked back to Kiara, “So what’s the diagnosis doc?” I let a small chuckle escape my lips before snapping them shut again. She had a look of concern across her face. “Ok, what’s wrong?” “I think they put in stiches of some sort when you were in hospital previously, but it appears as though you have torn them open again somehow. We will need to take you back down to our hospital and redo it. That is not something you want me to do without some sort of atheistic”

Tesot bellowed in a savage rage. It was hard. Her world was breaking apart. She walked out of the house and when she had made a few steps she turned and gazed about the two houses that for the last three years she had thought of as her permanent home. Now she was being forced to give it up. Tears sprang to her eyes, slowly snaking down her cheeks; tears of agony. She could not fight them back. She let them flow. She did not want to leave. A tremendous bond held her to the place. Breaking it was so agonizing. She took a handkerchief to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

Something irreversible. “Start with his hands,” I said coldly. Leandro didn’t hesitate. The crack of bone came sharp and sudden. Antonio’s scream followed. It was raw, tearing through the room as his finger bent the wrong way, skin splitting under pressure. I didn’t look. Not because I couldn’t. Because I didn’t need to.

Ashley ripped her eyes away from them and rushed towards the washroom, completely ignoring Blaine and his amused expression. Her vision turned blur as another set of tears infiltrated her blue eyes. She slammed the door shut, locked it, and trotted towards the sink. And then she broke down. A sob tore through her lips as she hunched over the sink to support her weight. Her heart was aching. An ache different from all the pain she had ever felt. Searing, unbearable, and life-threatening. The ache intensified every time her mind recounted his happy face when he was talking to that woman. Had he really gotten over her?

His body tensed, movements becoming sharper, less controlled, like he was starting to lose hold of it entirely. My breath caught. This wasn’t sustainable. Whatever he had done whatever he had taken into himself. It was tearing him apart. And he didn’t even see it. Or worse, he didn’t care. The sky above us darkened suddenly. Not gradually. Not naturally. One second it was clear. The next, it cracked. A sharp, blinding line split across the heavens, like the world itself had fractured. Light poured through the tear, cold and overwhelming, washing over the battlefield in an instant.

The Child stands rigid before the largest tear in the air, a jagged rip revealing not sky, but a chaotic, churning vortex of color and void. The Weaver’s tapestry. Or what’s left of it. Their small hands clutch the Mirror shard, knuckles white. Their usual soft light is frantic, strobing. "Go," I rasp, the word scraping my raw throat. "Slow it down. Anchor… I’m here." The promise feels flimsy, stupid, against the unraveling roar. They don’t look back. Just step into the tear. Vanished. Leaving me alone. Alone with the screaming air and the threads.

A stern look set across his face, eyes dark and angry. "I said you will not read this stupid fucking book," he commanded while grabbing the book from the middle and tearing it in two. Tears ran down her eyes as she watched him rip the book into countless pieces. It seemed he had lost his sanity. Asher shredded the book into several tiny pieces. If only he could also shred his past like this. This book had triggered a deep-buried fear within him. He looked at her after he was done tearing up her book beyond repair.

“That’s not possible. She’s been dead for centuries.” “She’s not dead,” I said. “Not really. She’s part of it and part of me now.” Silas frowned, his tone laced with dread. “The Tear Drop is merging her magic with yours. That’s what it does. It carries fragments of every soul that’s ever used it.” Ashen stood a few feet away, silent and still as stone. The wind stirred his cloak, and for a second, his expression cracked and just enough for me to see fear. Real fear.