Beyond Noise And Anger Novels & Stories

If Alina looked at me with terror in her eyes… would I feel satisfied? Would I feel anything at all? Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? I used to want destruction. I needed it, to feel in control. The chaos, the blood, the screaming it was all white noise to drown out the silence inside me. But now… now there’s a voice in that silence. Hers. I curse under my breath and down the rest of the drink. It hits harder this time. Good. Because what the hell am I doing?

Singh said, lower now, uglier now: “You sound just like her when cornered.” Noah moved before thinking. His hand swept the glass off the desk. It shattered against the wall. Both men breathed hard in the sudden noise. Noah stepped back first, jaw tight.“Don’t ever use her to get at me again.” Mr. Singh looked at the broken glass, then at his son. “You think anger makes you a man.” Noah grabbed his jacket. “No. But it helps me leave rooms like this.” He turned for the door.

But I think he must have heard it because shortly before I closed my door I heard an angry growl and a glass break. Anger management. That's what he needs.

Nicolás admonished, patting and rubbing his back. Jonathan shrugged his hands off. "This shit is so messed up," he said drunkenly, twirling his fingers around his shot glass and staring into the crowd of sweaty dancers, grinding their body against one another. "She doesn't know nothing about me. God this hurts worse than being stabbed in the back. Literally. All my anticipation and the happiness I had felt when I heard she had regained consciousness makes this feeling twice as bad.” Amancio looked just as surprised as everyone who heard the news had been. Not in million years would he imagine that either of them could forget the other. But it was just his thirty sixth year, and it was happen

I said, "Think of your upcoming baby instead! You don't have to worry about our daughter anymore!" "I just closed a big deal. Let's do it together, my wife! We can succeed together! Don't be mad anymore!" I couldn't contain my anger. "Wake up! No matter how many deals you sign, it has nothing to do with me. Move aside!" Matthew hugged me, then quickly kissed my neck while muttering nonsensical words. I forcefully pushed him away and gave him a resounding slap. "I'll repeat it. Please stop harassing me. We’re never getting back together!"

"Who's making that noise?!" Upon hearing the abrupt voice, Ida frowned deeply and looked up, her anger palpable. They chose this tranquil estate for Howser's recovery precisely because of its quiet environment. Yet now, someone dared to create noise, disturbing Howser! As she glanced toward the source of the sound, she was momentarily taken aback. Nothing seemed out of place. Liam's fingers rested lightly on Howser's wrist, and with each gentle tap of his index finger—

I took a deep breath and hit play. The recording began with loud noises in the background, and then I could barely hear Cyril's voice, which was all shaky and weak. "Mommy… Mommy… It hurts…" It felt like a punch to the gut. Tears started pouring down my face uncontrollably. Then came the sickening voices of those two women. "Roxy… do you think they're… dead?" "Ugh, seriously? We finally got our acceptance letters and just wanted to chill for a bit, but then we ran into them. Why weren't they paying attention when they crossed the street? Talk about bad luck."

I could feel the level of anger releasing, a moment of raw sadness interrupting my thoughts, dragging on my synapses. "Turn that off!" Her demand managed to filter over the music, her voice shaking from her own heightened anger. I took a deep breath before opening my eyes. She stood like a beacon of hope, her long hair cascading down her shoulders and arms in a halo effect. I found it difficult to respond and when I didn't, she moved toward the stereo, slapping her hands against the CD player in an effort to stop the music.

I could feel the quality of his attention the way I had been feeling it all evening, with the specific awareness of someone whose attention has become a familiar presence rather than an intrusion. "You are angry," he said. Not a question. "Yes," I said. "Good," he said. "The anger is more useful than what comes after it." I turned to look at him. "What comes after it?" "The version of this where you start accepting the narrative they have built," he said. "Where you stop fighting it because fighting it is exhausting. You should stay in the anger."

The hurt and anger in her eyes threatened to spill over. "What the hell are you talking about?" He ignored her reddened eyes. Tugging lazily at his shirt collar, he leaned a step closer, the burn of alcohol in his breath brushing her face. "You heard me," he said, slowly closing in. "Or maybe… you're just mad 'cause after all this time, you're finally starved for attention." Out of the blue, Luther leaned forward, his kiss heavy with smoke and alcohol. He kissed her roughly, as though he was venting all his anger on her.