Novel & Cerita Bitter Rage

MONIQUE My therapist once told me about the four stages of rage. Annoyance, frustration, hostility—and then fury. I didn't think I had felt the first three, not really. But that final stage? The white-hot, blinding intensity of fury? I felt it now, burning through me like a fire I couldn't control.

Something snapped inside me like an overstretched wire. A tremor tore through me, but this time it wasn’t fear. It was rage—hot, bitter, uncontrollable rage that had been festering like an infected wound since the moment he threw me onto that bed the night of our wedding and told me he would make me live in hell. It bubbled up from somewhere deep and dark, spilling over like poison from a broken vessel. “No.” My voice came out hoarse, shaky, but I forced it louder. “No, Kael. My fear doesn’t belong to you. My fire doesn’t belong to you.”

“You’re a wolf, I didn’t expect your departure to be so slow and pitiful. It’s almost like you’re trying to suffer and drag it along rather than get out. And what was that…You can’t be sick.” I don’t know why, but his words trigger some deep anger in me, borne from maybe a lifetime of having it pointed out, and I snap. “I’m not a fucking wolf, I don’t have a fucking wolf, and I am moving as fast as I fucking can, given I can die from merely falling into a ditch the wrong way…. Because I DON’T HAVE A FUCKING WOLF!!!” The wave of rage somehow ignites enough energy to push me up to sit, then stand faster, and I brush down my cape with aggression, kicking my bag aside so it falls open, and bend

The more miserable I became, the more she flourished. Pure hatred began to simmer in my soul. I wasn't going to just take this. Why should I be the only one to suffer? If she never saw me as a daughter, then I no longer had a mother. At that moment, a thirst for revenge took hold. Since Mom was so fond of telling me to ignore what people think, I hoped she'd be able to follow her own advice when she became the victim. I wiped the tears from my eyes. Then, I turned and headed home.

I would never forgive myself if something happened to her because I was too pissed off to be reasonable. I answered the phone. Bitterness was audible. “Yeah?” “Don’t fucking yeah me.” She launched herself at a million miles an hour, expressing all the rage she’d kept bottled up inside the last few days. She was like the sun, solar flares jumping out everywhere. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to lose you. I hate this so fucking much. You think I like being alone? You think I like being hours away from you? You say that you’re a prisoner, but you have no idea what being a prisoner is really like. You don’t know what it’s like to be chained up and raped, so don’t sit there and act like you

It is a testament to the indomitable spirit that lives within her, refusing to succumb to the darkness that threatens to consume her. As the weight of this devastating loss crashes down upon me, a torrent of emotions floods my being. Anguish and anger intertwine, creating a tempest within my soul. The unfairness of it all, the cruel twist of fate that snatched away her loved ones on a day meant for celebration, fills me with a burning rage. It is a rage that reverberates through my very core, causing me to let out a primal roar that echoes through the desolate night.

Too bad the bastard will have to get through me first and unlucky him because I fight dirty. Robyn told us a little more about what Abby had told her. I must say with each passing moment the rage inside of me grew and grew. I have never felt this level of anger in 35 years of life. I thought seeing my friends being taken made me angry but the anger flowing in my veins now was on an entirely new level. Seeing this women so terrified awakened something in me that probably should have stayed buried. Only Maestro has seen me in this state of mind and he was not a fan. It is honestly a blood fueled lust and I won't stop until the object of rage is a bleeding crying mess in front of me. Mark my wo

Do you? Her expression morphed from smugness to rage, further fueling my resolve. "Why am I even bothering to ask?" I continued, my tone dripping with disdain. "You're incapable of understanding such feelings. Enraged by my defiance, Benita's grip tightened on my hair, but fueled by the anger bubbling inside me, I retaliated, seizing her hair in return and forcefully pulling her down. The squabble escalated quickly, with blows exchanged and tempers flaring. Her friends intervened, attempting to pull me away, but the rage coursing through me was unyielding. I turned on them, gripping their hair in a desperate bid to reach Benita. She met my advance with equal ferocity, her eyes blazing with f

I growled, jerking my head to the shocked woman who stood with her mouth open watching me. Rage had always been my weakness, after Elena. Blind, compulsive, and overwhelming rage. It was the same reason I had decimated the entire wolves of the Viper pack. Burnt them alive in their own castle, women, children, and lovers, and drunk in their anguished screams like sweet wine.

His once-controlled anger now explodes within him as he unleashes his frustration on his possessions. He begins breaking things, his actions fueled by a volatile mix of rage, hurt, and desperation. Screams escape his lips, his eyes bloodshot with anger, as he finds temporary solace in the destruction around him. His mind is consumed by thoughts of deep hurt and betrayal, the pain driving him to the edge of his sanity.