Blood Sweat And Tears Artinya Novels & Stories

My eyes are drying out from crying but tears keep on streaming down my eyes. "Let her fucking go, Franco. This is the war you're bestowing between us." Matteo warned, Franco, pressed the knife deeper in my skin, slicing my flesh slightly, creating an open wound. I feel the blood trickle down my throat but I stood in place, still shaking in fear. I closed my eyes shut.

Her voice, once sharp and panicked, dissolved into a soft pleading tone, “Honey, you completely misunderstood me. I was just terrified for us, my love. The thought of seeing you stripped of the status you worked so hard for broke my heart for a second. I don't care about the money for myself, but I want you to have the world. I can’t bear the thought of those company shares going to your half-brother, Elias. Darling, don't be angry with me for being a frightened girl for one minute. Please believe me, I love you with all my heart. I will…….”

I look broken, my face covered in blood and tears, with the word MURDERER scrolling across the bottom of the screen in bold, red letters. I cover my face with my hands and let out a sob that feels like it’s tearing my chest open.

She stops crying and gets surprised about it trying to understand what it meant for her. Taking a drop of tear on her palms. She takes it to Vinixs cottage to search for what it meant in the spell book. After some minutes of careful research and findings. It is said that tears contain some kind of healing powers and can rejuvenate and heal someone who has been cut or bruised.

All the tension, the worry, and relief come pouring out in a torrent I can no longer hold back. I don’t fight it. I let the tears come, the sobs fill the room, because I know I need this release. Crying isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s a way to cleanse the soul, to wash away the poison of fear. After what feels like an eternity, the tears begin to subside. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. I’m exhausted, drained in every way possible. Lying down, I pull the blanket over me, still fully clothed. My eyelids feel heavy, the emotional and physical exhaustion finally claiming me.

“Slower this time. Just enough to watch your muscles fail. Your fingers twist. Your legs stop working. I want to see you crawl, broken, mute, useless.” My tears came like rain then—hot, bitter, and uncontrollable. They slipped down my cheeks in rivers, mingling with the dirt beneath me, soaking into the cold, unforgiving earth like offerings to a god who never listened. Each drop felt like a confession—of pain, of defeat, of everything I’d tried so hard to survive.

Blood flowed freely from a gaping wound on his forehead, pooling sickeningly on the floor. Tears blurred my vision as I tore a part of my top, ripping under my desperate fingers. I pressed the material against his head to reduce the bleeding, watching as the pale blue cotton immediately darkened to crimson. My fingers trembled uncontrollably, smearing blood across my hands, the scent filling my nostrils and making my stomach lurch violently. "Dad, please, please stay with me," I sobbed uncontrollably, my voice breaking with anguish. His blood felt warm against my cold hands, a horrifying reminder of the life draining from him.

A tiny droplet of blood wells up, a painful reminder of my carelessness. “Fuck!”, I hiss, eyes glued on the crimson red gushing out of the small wound. I let out a defeated sigh, dropping the file as I slump back into my chair. I’m not gonna cry right now, am I? Because if it’s tears I feel creeping behind the hood of my eyes, they better go back to where they came from. But with my thoughts, my eyes begin to prick, and the unwelcome sting of tears becomes more obvious. No, no, no. I refuse to cry. Not now, not here, not in front of them. I force myself to take a deep breath, willing the tears to finally retreat, to disappear back into the depths of my frustration.

I pleaded, going on my knees. Tears brimming down on my eyes cause I had no idea about the havoc I was about to wrinkle on myself. Sweat began to run down from my face to my feet, my blood began to be fucking hot. Oh no, I don’t know what the great Iye might do to me. My lacrimal gland got extremely filled with tears, unable to fucking control it as I let it flow so freely down my cheek. My catarrh got pulled up in my nose, fuck I couldn’t breath well.

Her once radiant face with powers and glaze, was now smeared with dried tears that left trails of sorrow etched upon her delicate skin. The traces of anguish are clearly evident as if her tears had crystallized and fused with her very being and being a proof of her strength in enduring the pain coming from polished chains and her struggle. “Don’t even think of my tears to be due to being helpless…” she said while heaving heavily, “these are the marks of the victory I am soon going to have over you.”