Born Of A Broken Man Rage Against The Machine Mga Nobela at Kwento

being couldn't process: the desire to be broken. ​The Newborn froze. The translucent glass of its skin began to crack, shot through with the dark, messy soot of my own reality. It let out a sound that wasn't a melody but a raw, human sob. ​"It’s too... heavy," the entity whispered, its golden light flickering and turning a muddy, industrial brown. ​The countdown on the scalpel hit zero.

“You’re sorry?! You’re sorry?! What do you mean you’re sorry? You just called my baby a fetus a minute ago! You have no fucking idea how in love she was with that baby! Our baby! Your apologies are nothing to me! I fucking hate you, you prick! You just ruined my world! Do you hear me? You ruined me!” I scream out at the top of my lungs. The rage cannot be contained any longer. I sit up from the stupid fucking chair, grip it in my hands and full force throw it against the light blue wall causing a picture to come crashing down. The serene photo is now broken, just as I am. I’m broken beyond repair, my Millie was drugged and our baby has died.

He paused and I could feel the beast inside me was fully awake by now. “Everyone is waiting for the time to see you broken one more time. Just like how my girl turned you to be a useless and powerless man. She will leave you like how your family did. No one can protect her, not even you even though people claimed you as the most powerful mafia. You will fail this, miserably.” I punched his face non-stop and the blood spewed from his mouth and nose. “I won’t allow it. It will not happen that way.” I enunciated each word, at the same time I make a promise to myself.

My hand gripped the steering wheel tightly, the frustration and anger yet to simmer down, they still curled tightly around my limbs and the grief inside my chest was still too heavy—too raw. The windshield wiper worked furiously to keep up with the rain, but the road ahead was still a chore to see but my mind was all over the place. How was I to confront them? The thought of seeing them brought a fresh pain of hurt to me. My chest tightened as I thought about the words the people were saying about me and the baby that I hadn't even given birth to. A lump formed in my throat. I barely registered where I was going as the lines of trees blurred into shadows and the road seemed to tightened.

I tried to imagine what it must have been like for him to stand beside his wife watching her trying to heal a broken soul and losing herself along the way. “I don't know what happened with you guys, I just know that all this hurt and anger she has is not from today. So, fix this shit. Fix what you did and maybe she can move on with everything else. You've been such a jerk all this time and I swear if you ever hurt her again I will end you Ethan, I swear I will end you," Tom was clinking his glass so hard that it might break. He looked at me with frightening eyes and I knew that he would keep that promise if he had to. He had always been loyal and had become a man willing to do anything for h

They would expect bending. I would not bend. Not because I was unbreakable. But because something in Ravenwood had already begun to straighten. And once that happens, no amount of pressure can force it back into shape.

His mother's words were gospel to him, and the more he mulled over them, the more he was convinced he had to confront Rowena, even if it meant ending her life. As fate would have it, Rowena was being pushed out by the doctor, clamoring for me to take the baby. The others recoiled from the lifeless infant, desperate for it to be someone else's problem. Not me, though. I had faced that horror in a previous life; the shock of a stillborn had already scarred me once. 'But why should I?' I pondered. I confronted Rowena, "Why should I be the one to take your child?"

Then, out of nowhere, Jay asked, "You're doing this for money, aren't you? Is a million dollars enough?" I sighed and replied, "Jay, we don't live in the same world. Our agreement is over, and so is our relationship." "I can give you three million," he replied desperately. I responded softly, "I don't want it, Jay. I've lost six years of my life. I'm done living for you." That was the last straw. Jay snapped, "Rachel, stop acting! I'll ask you one last—" "I'm not going back," I cut him off without hesitation.

Precise. The intent. I tasted the intent of the men in the white coats. Cold. Arrogant. They didn't want the ore. They wanted the breakage. They wanted to crack the egg to see what would hatch. Nergal. I felt his hand on the lever. I felt his ambition like a rot in my core. Then—the Fracture. Pain beyond biology. The structural integrity of a world failing. The scream of rock tearing apart. The silence of the vacuum rushing in.