Crushed Novels & Stories

But was him finding a replacement during the three years I was away an act of loving me? Knock, knock. The sudden sound of knocking on the door made Charles regain his rationality. He let go and turned to the door. Susan’s delicate voice came through. “Charles, could you come out for a bit?” Charles stood up and opened the door to speak with her. “What is it?” “Zach wants to sleep with you. I’ve been trying to calm him down, but it’s useless. I’m sorry.” “It’s fine. I’ll go with you.” He comforted the uneasy Susan with a gentle voice before he gave me a meaningful look and left.

I run at him at full speed. “Oh no you don’t, Fucker,” I shout as I barrel into him. The momentum of my speed slams him into the wall of the stage, wood splinters and metal screeches as I push through the structure, using his body. Pain radiates from my wrists and I'm pretty sure I've broken them but I continue to push until I've nearly ripped a path through the middle of the stage. Warm liquid splatters over my face, blinding me as it covers my eyes. I wipe my face with the sleeve of my jacket and blink until I can see again. My sleeve is smeared with red and I look up to see a horrifying yet highly pleasing sight.

She fought with every scrap of strength, locking her jaw and letting out a low, guttural sound of revolt. In the chaos, there was a loud "CRACK." The bowl was knocked out of his hand, shattering against the floor. Thick, hot soup splashed over both of them as the porcelain exploded, the sharp sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.

CRACK. The three-inch-thick solid oak table shattered down the center, its heavy legs buckling as the wood splintered into jagged fragments, collapsing onto the marble floor in a violent spray of debris. The heavy decanter of Scotch exploded, sending amber liquid and crystal shards cascading across the polished stone.

He didn't what happened to him but his heart just suddenly started pounding heavily. However, it didn't take long when he saw a crimson liquid dropping out from their entangled hands unto the floor. Just then he felt a struck of pain inside his fist. As he paid more attention to it, the pain gets more intense. He suddenly felt the something hard and sharp burying on his palm. He gasped from the intensifying pain that his fist trembled inside Méah's hands. It was too late for him to realize that he had crushed a broken piece of the bowl into his fist out of anger awhile ago.

He landed a punch squarely on the sole of the attacker’s incoming foot. Crack! “Ahhh!!!” The sound of bones breaking echoed through the room, followed by a scream of agony. The attacker was sent sprawling to the floor, and his foot twisted at an unnatural angle. One of his legs was completely crushed. “What?!” The outsiders were stunned.

Smith let out a nervous laugh, clearly not understanding. "In this case..." Victor continued softly, tilting his head just slightly, "when have I ever been wrong?" The words barely settled— Before it happened. A sickening sound cracked through the room, one that sound like a crunch which stole Jane's breath instantly. For a split second, her mind refused to understand what she was seeing. Victor's hand had tightened on Smith's hands, causing it to be crushed. Not bent, not twisted, but crushed. Crushed in the middle, as if bone and flesh meant nothing more than something brittle, something fragile

His innocent question making Daniel to smile. "Really? Mom was so heavy?" Daniel laughed, his innocent words and eyes making him the most adorable kid in this world. "No son...to crush on someone...means to like someone..not to crush them with your weight." The boy's mouth opened in an adorable o , realising what his father meant. And then there was a twinkle in his eye like he had solved the most difficult mathematics question in his life. "Then I crush on you daddy! And I crush on mommy!! And I -"

CLANG! The h⁠eavy‍ c‍u⁠p crashed against the edge of the mahog‍a‍ny‍ t‍able, sha‍ttering tw‌o crystal g‍l⁠asses‌ b‌ef‌ore h⁠itting the flo‍or. Spic⁠ed red w‌in‌e spla⁠shed violentl⁠y in ev‌ery di‍rection.

The faint corrupted blood pact code still lingered there—like a scar that refused to fade. “The sovereign requires the closest contact with the fabric…” CRACK. From absolute darkness. A Baccarat crystal glass was crushed in one hand. Not shattered. Not broken. Compressed into crystalline dust. Fine fragments spilled through his fingers. Dark whiskey mixed with fresh blood dripped to the floor. Tick. Tick. Leo’s knees collapsed. He hit the ground. Dragged himself backward on instinct. Scraping. Desperate. The assistant dropped completely—hands over mouth, vomiting onto the carpet.