Blood Sweat And Tears Artinya Novels & Stories

He pressed his torn, actively bleeding fingernails directly into the sharp crevice of the massive stone wall, and for the first time in his entire miserable life, the great Aryan Singhania openly wept. The tears weren't just hot; they felt like corrosive acid burning down his freezing, dirt-caked cheeks. The quiet, muffled sobs aggressively shook his bare, bruised torso, sending excruciating shockwaves radiating from his violently shattered left arm straight into his failing heart. He didn't wipe the tears away. He just let them freely mix with the freezing mud and the fresh crimson blood continuously dripping from his mangled right hand.

A human, at least. I wring my palms, they felt sandy. I opened my palms, looking into them. They were covered in ash. My arms. My fucking body. “Oh no.” I tried rubbing it off, scrubbing them off with the back of my wrist. It was as though they were glued to my skin. I'm scrubbing them off more. More. I want to rip the top of my skin off. Tears welled from deep inside and coursed down my cheeks. Hot tears.

I simply let it wash over me seeing the dirt and blood coming off me slipping down the drain. I crouch to the floor to tired to hold myself upright any longer and give into the tears the earth-shattering sobs as I cry out all of the pain, stress, fear every emotion flowing through my body letting the water wash it all away. When the tears no longer flow a headache pounding a way I sit there still as the water licks at my skin, I can still feel his touch on me and when I think about what almost happened the tears start again.

My sight became hazy, clouded by tears and the reflection of the sun dancing on the polished marble beneath my feet. As the pain deepened, tears rained down my face, flowing freely like a torrential downpour. It felt as if a dam, long sealed, had suddenly burst open, releasing a flood of pent-up emotions. Each tear represented the weight of every heartbreaking experience I had endured. They were tears shed for the countless times the woman I considered my mother had subjected me to beatings. They were tears shed for the irreplaceable loss of my Grandpa. And, most importantly, they were tears of anguish over the futile attachment to someone that never truly belonged to me in the first place.

Are all things about our mate bond true? A tear of blood came out of my eye. Why am I crying? I don't have feelings for him. I whispered," I don't have feelings for him". I went to my dressing table, looking in the mirror, I again murmured," I don't have feelings for him". I said and I started weeping. Many tears of blood were coming out of my eyes. Trying to cover them with my hands, I covered my whole face with tears of blood. My face was red. I washed my face.

My tears rained on my palm. I wiped my tears out of my palm. I panicked when my tears smudged the ink written on it. “No... no...” I brought out my pen and wrote his name again but my pen won’t work over my drenched skin. I wiped my palm against my shirt and it was gone. His name was gone. I knew his name seconds ago but now I don’t. I grabbed my hair. This is driving me insane. I wish my tears could erase the pain I was feeling just like what it did to his name. I wish crying could ease the pain.

And so artistic. "You cried," The guy says playfully. "You have dry tears in your cheeks." I sigh, "I did." "Weird. Because I don't cry." "I try not to cry." I whisper, touching the tears in my cheek. "It just....happens." "What is in your hand?" "Mud." I look at my dirty hands. "No, your knuckles." He slowly takes my right hand, tracing the faint scars in the knuckles. From yesterday. "What are you doing?" I frown slightly.

Zia's fear increased [I don't want to die] she thought trembling her eyes were tearing "Why are your eyes sweating?" he asked [That's not sweating, those are tears] "Tears? What are those?" he asked, feeling confused [You don't know what tears are?] "Your eyes sweat?" [when someone is sad or afraid, a person cries] "hmm" The vampire lived a long life for centuries but has never seen a person cry. A new emotion triggered him. He found it interesting. "Name?" he asked [Ah?.. Zia]

Thankful to have spotted a pair of sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, that had been left sitting on the hallway table. No one could have ever prepared me for what I was about to endure as I entered my best friend's bedroom. The sight before me crushed every little bit of strength I had left in me. Artic's father and Ian stood over her body holding her down as she let out scream after scream of agonizing pain as her body jerked. Her face was an never ending waterfall of tears as they poured from her eyes. Ian, Michelle, Dale and I scrambled to maintain our hold on her arms and legs as her screams were replaced by gutheral growls as she tried to flay her own skin off, as she fought with whatever h

crying? The flashes of images end abruptly, and I double over with a gasp, holding on to the wall. There's something wet and warm gliding down my cheek. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I wipe it with the back of my hand. To my horror, it's blood. Blood? I'm crying tears of blood? What the fuck is happening? Is this even real? Or am I losing it? ...