Born Of A Broken Man Rage Against The Machine Novels & Stories

I'm broken. I came from a place where people scream at walls and forget their names. I clawed my way out of the asylum, but it never really leaves you. The madness clings to your bones. People like me don’t get to be fathers. We don’t get love. We don't care. My head pounded. The pain in my chest came in waves—rage, sorrow, grief.

“I am.” “Why?” He put his bread down. “That is a very long story, little songbird. The short version is that I was angry, and I was jealous, and I thought breaking something would make me feel better.” “Did it?” Kael, the child, asked. He was sitting cross-legged, his twelve-year-old’s body looking too thin in the firelight. The man let out a short, humourless laugh. “No. It just made everything… broken.” He looked at the child, his namesake. “You are the proof of that. You are the piece that should not exist. An anchor born from a betrayal. A paradox.”

Did he hire one of his men to know that I would be here? I feel all the anger I have for him rising in my body. This man in front of me almost killed me. I gave this man in front of me everything, all of me and he broke me. He broke me so badly that I had to flee from my home town. This man is the Devil’s incarnate. He broke me, my life and left me with nothing. And yet I am carrying his baby and he has no fucking idea. I hate him. I hate him so much I could kill him with my own bare hands right now. I wish he would just go to hell where he came from. He destroyed my life. Because of him, I cannot love again. Because of him, I am finding it hard to trust again. I hear Levi mumble something b

“Behave like a man.” Something broke inside me. Tears threatened but I forced them back with venom. No. I would not cry like boy. I would not give this old man that satisfaction. I turned, storming out, slamming doors so hard that the frames cracked. My footsteps thundered through the halls as my rage boiled past breaking point, spilling into madness.

Antara asked angrily She is not a girl who gets angry or disrespect people but after everything she can not keep herself calm. She vented out whatever she had inside her. Narmada stood unaffected with her words and kept her head down. "I know Antara! You have many complaints and questions and have anger as well and trust me everything is fine and justified. When I came here after marrying Anirudh's father I was feeling like you only. Helpless and so scared. I was submissive but still his father broke me to make me something he wanted me to be. I know I failed to raise my son. I know he is a monster but trust me I tried my best to stop him but his father never let me teach him correct things.

… I moved into the villa we had left sitting empty for six months, slowly unpacking and arranging my things. The entire time, I felt surprisingly calm until I found a sonogram report tucked away among the documents from my last business trip. The pain I had forced down and the confusion I had buried, suddenly surged back to the surface. It spread through my veins like wildfire, relentless, suffocating. A violent tremor ran through me as I clutched the paper, my fingers white-knuckled. Then, I collapsed to the floor. And for the first time, I sobbed—raw, broken, uncontrollable.

My palm stung, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain in my heart. "Jessica, please, come back," he pleaded, his voice trembling with desperation. "We can start over. I’ll make it right. I’ll make you pregnant again—we can have another child..." "Enough!" I cut him off sharply. Even the begging in his voice couldn’t quench the fire of my rage. He had always been cold and heartless toward me. "How dare you bring up our child? Who was it that caused me to miscarry? "Who was it that beat me black and blue just to please Lilith?

But after the accident, my nights had been filled with unbearable suffering. The only thing that had kept me going through those years of pain had been my love for Queenie. When I realized she no longer loved me, I had nothing left to hold onto in this world. As a crippled man, my existence would only burden my parents and son. "Mom, you're lying." Leroy pushed Queenie away. "You held a knife to my neck and said that only Mr. Francis mattered to you. That Dad and I didn't matter at all. "It's your fault I don't have a dad anymore. I hate you. You're nothing like my friends' moms. Their moms only love their dads, but you love Mr. Francis."

My muscles strained as I pushed with everything I had. I almost removed my hand, thinking of how I could easily lose my hand. But it was better to lose it than to lose my life. The door groaned, the metal bending under the pressure. I let out a guttural roar, my anger and determination fueling me. Finally, with a deafening crash, the door broke free, slamming to the ground.

Feeling indebted, I vowed to work hard and give her a better life. That first year, I was consumed with work and neglected Sarah, resulting in the loss of our first child – a girl. It took three years before we welcomed Ethan. Knowing how difficult the pregnancy was on Sarah, I threw myself even deeper into work. I completed every task without complaint, covered for colleagues, skipped meals, and worked overtime. Due to overworking, I was hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer multiple times, all for the sake of hefty bonuses. My physical appearance suffered from years of overtime work and unhealthy eating habits, far from my days as a "best-looking college heartthrob." Now, I resembled more of