City Of Anger Novels & Stories

he says with a forced smile. “ I will,” I blurted without a second thought. “ But that's a long time from now.” He beams and taps me on the back, like he could sense the storm swirling somewhere deep within me. My fingers reflexively clawed to his chest, and I was soon buried there. “ I am sorry… I am so sorry…” “ You have every right to hate me and the Hills…” “ Come on, child. Hate is for fools. Anger is human. I was once angry. So angry I couldn't afford to look in the news or on the streets because I might see her or run into her.”

I was simply slowly losing my mind in absolute anger. Rage is a cheap drug when you let it in your system. I prefer mine measured, poured into a glass, and swallowed in one tilt of the wrist. The city slid by in windows and wet pavement. I drove past a billboard with his face on it; I tightened my knuckles at the wheel in a bid to calm myself. I didn’t go home. I went to the office with no sign out front, the one with the elevator that arrives before you press the button if it knows your weight. Ray went ahead of me and had the lights on already; he’d left the car early because he felt my anger.

My mother already did that The anger in me was a raging inferno. My wounds, the ones I hadn't even bothered to tend to, felt like mere scratches compared to the burning ache in my chest. I needed to something, to release the pent-up fury I was feeling right now. “D'Angelo, anything?” I barked, my voice rough with barely contained rage. D'Angelo, our hacker, was a ghost in the computer room, hunched over the screens, his face pale with fear. He didn't even dare look at me.

I walked over to the window and parted the curtains, letting the morning ray cascading down into my bedroom. Staring down at the city from my window, I couldn't help the anger that surge through me as I remember Adrian's last words to me the previous evening. "Get out of this place, and don't let me ever see your stupid face ever again." Really? I scoffed, shut back the curtains as just the sight of the city was enough to make want to burn down the penthouse. Just what the fuck did he think of me? "Fucking bastard son of a fucking gun!" I gritted my teeth, rage ignited fury inside of me as I sauntered over to my bed and grabbed my phone.

I said. The strange thing was that I wasn't angry,I'd spent days expecting anger,feeling it build inside me every time I thought about the photographs, the lies, everything that had been taken from me but standing there at the window, watching the city wake up, anger was the last thing I felt instead what I felt was quieter than that and somehow stronger. It was clarity.

“How are you.” I looked at the three pieces on my screen. At the pointed questions and the sharpened implication and the coordinated timing of a Saturday morning designed to find me in my pyjamas before my defences were up. “I’m angry,” I said. He was quiet for a moment. “Good.” “Good.” “Better than the alternative.” His voice was even. “Anger means you’re still standing in it rather than under it.”

Yet, amidst the tempest of fury, a flicker of clarity emerged—a beacon of understanding that illuminated the path forward. I clenched my fists, the tension in my muscles a tangible manifestation of the conflict raging within me. This anger, this burning tempest, could either be my downfall or my salvation. It was a delicate balance, a tightrope I had to tread with utmost caution. I couldn't allow myself to be consumed by this inferno. No, I needed to harness its power, to wield it as a tool in my relentless pursuit of freedom.

The anger that had consumed me throughout the day now burned with renewed intensity, its flames licking at the edges of my sanity. With each passing moment, my resolve hardened. I refused to accept defeat, to succumb to the apathy that threatened to engulf me. I would not allow my anger to define me, to dictate the course of my life. Instead, I would channel it, transform it into a relentless determination, a driving force that would push me forward in my pursuit of happiness. As the night drew to a close, I rose from my seat, leaving behind the remnants of my anger on the table. The heaviness in my heart remained, but within it, a flicker of hope began to burn.

With the fate of the city hanging in the balance, they knew that they could not afford to fail. With hearts pounding and adrenaline coursing through their veins, they braced themselves for the battle ahead. For they knew that only by standing together could they hope to emerge victorious against the forces of darkness that threatened to consume them all. In the heart of the city, amidst the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, Antonio and Amari found themselves embroiled in a labyrinth of deceit and treachery. As they delved deeper into the underbelly of Chicago, they uncovered shocking truths that sent shockwaves through their ranks.

Arya wanted to scream her lungs out at him. She wanted to yell so loud until the windows cracked and throw anything withing reach. She didn't care if it was a glass or chair. As long as it was going to hit him hard and chase damage . Her chest was full of unbridled anger that was pushing against her ribs like it was trying to escape. Her hands felt shaky, not from fear but from how hard she was trying not to explode. Every part of her wanted to fight him, to tell him to leave, to never come back. She didn’t want to be near him. She didn’t want to hear his voice. And yet, somehow, she also wanted him to stay. That made her even angrier.