Novel & Cerita Born Of Frustration

Refused to keep going. I growled low, picking up speed, the frustration building with each stride. The more I tried to shake off the feeling, the more it rooted itself into me, spreading like a wildfire I couldn’t control. It wasn’t pity. I didn’t pity her. It couldn’t be that. I wouldn’t allow it to be that. Damn it.

“But he didn't give a damn about me. He didn't seem to give a damn about if I lived or not. I was a mistake, he didn't plan for my birth. “ I sighed, and I was shocked by how bitter my voice sounded. It wasn't what I intended to say, but once it was out, it couldn't be taken back. When she spoke her tone was soft, as though she were carefully going through my suffering. “Why” As I gazed at her, my chest tightened. “Because I was different from them. . My strength was not enough, I was a pup who never thought I couldn't survive, born prematurely and always fragile. Whenever I failed him or failed to meet his expectations, I could see it in his eyes. “ The words were heavy as they came out of

How could a monster bring a new life into this brutal, terrifying world? The fear was a cold, constricting hand around her heart. It was a fear not for herself, but for the life growing inside her. A child born of Dante's grief, Alessandro's betrayal, and the brutal violence of the Greco. A child conceived in a moment of desperate defiance, a moment of tragic, misguided revenge. What kind of life could this child have? What kind of mother could she be?

I kept tearing at my work, squeezing the crumpled sketches in my fists before flinging them across the room. Each discarded piece felt like a small failure, a reminder of the chaos consuming my mind. Frustration twisted within me, feeding the endless cycle. When George walked in, the room was littered with my failed attempts, each one a silent proof of my struggle. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, the frustration and helplessness overwhelmed me, and I began to cry.

Just shadows and silence. “Enough of this,” I muttered, my frustration boiling over. I slammed my fist into a nearby crate, the wood splintering under the force. Emilio’s face flashed in my mind again, his smug expression, his betrayal. I couldn’t take it anymore. The anger, the confusion, the unanswered questions—it was all too much. With a roar of frustration, I hurled my phone at the ground. It shattered on impact, the pieces scattering across the floor like my broken thoughts.

"Ahmm, the third type, actually I just came from Dr. Quazano." She bit her lips and smiled. "Oh, so you have a lot of necros." "Actually, it's the opposite," I replied. I can't believe it. I've been reborn as useless shit in this world. Why does the world want me to suffer? I always start at the very bottom like a piece of shit. Though I am smart, and I have my other soul but for me, what I need here is a necro. I need lots of it.

Roman kept quiet as she threw blames at him, maybe it was his fault he had been arrogant and strong headed that's what got them into this mess. “He needed blood, he was born malnourished cause I didn't have enough money to eat well, they said they needed to give the baby blood and I wasn't a match for my son, his father was but his father denied ever knowing me, not to talk of having a child with me.” He deserved all the hate she felt towards him, all the anger, the bitter words he deserved all of them. “So..” “Don't tell me you are sorry Roman.” She cut him off before he could finish his words. “It means nothing to me at all, your apologies are a waste.”

After the day when Mrs. Cambri was killed, I'm so furious. I'm furious by the fact that I don't possess the ability to save her and his son from death. I feel so hopeless and weak. "AAAARRRGGHH!" I shouted while kicking my bed and throwing everything I can hold. I don't even know the things I'm throwing away; all the I know is that I need to release the anger I'm feeling right now. "D*mn it! D*mn it!" I shouted repeatedly. I almost bang my head to the walls because of frustration. I feel my hands getting numb but I can't stop. I can't control myself and it feels like I need to create more things that can hurt me.

“It’s just a stupid bull’s-eye. You can do this.” I turned back to the target and raised the gun once more. My fingers trembled slightly as I adjusted my grip. I couldn’t let the frustration win. My mind raced, hyper-focused on the need to succeed. Bang! Bang! Bang! Three shots, three misses. All painfully close but just shy of the mark. The frustration boiled over, and I let out a sharp cry, throwing the gun onto the nearby table. The metallic clatter echoed through the room, amplifying the anger simmering inside me.

Not even a coroner could tell the difference. Back in Sicily, I locked myself in my room. I didn't eat or drink, lost track of day and night, consumed by endless regret for the choices I had made. Even in my dazed state, I could hear my unborn child calling for me, begging me to save him. All those years ago, I had defied my father to marry Vito, content to be the woman behind the man, only to fail to save my own baby. The snake venom was agonizing for a grown man. What chance did my child, still in my womb, ever have?