Cry Of The Unheard Novels & Stories

this it total thrill. The blood formed a puddle at his feet already, and it was still pouring as she placed her baby knife on the second ear. How louder would his screams get when she cuts it off? She certainly can't wait to hear that. "Who are the three others? Or your second ear with enter your anus" She gritted, her cold voice echoing in the dark room. Tears poured out of his regretful eyes, and he began urinating on himself again as Toyota held his head still.

Then yanks the window open. “Please sir, I promise I won’t tell anyone I cry.” He laughs at me. And it all happens in slow motion. The window flies open, and my body is flying in the air for what feels like forever before my body hits something hard. All the air in my lungs is gone and I can’t catch my breath, but I can hear people around me yelling and screaming... and then I hear her voice. “Go call 911.” “Fuck Stella, please be okay babe, you can’t leave me. I need you. She cries.

“Oh… God…” The words slipped out like prayer and a curse at the same time. I pressed harder, sliding the thick shaft along my folds, letting it part me. I was soaking now; the obscene, wet sounds filled the tiny cell alongside my ragged breathing. I glanced at the door—locked, thank the saints—then back to the candle. I couldn’t stop.

Dash could not stop crying when he heard my harsh words. "Uncle Howard! I want Uncle Howard. I don't want Daddy! He's scary. Mom, let's go." For the first time, Gemma, who always seemed to trust her judgement, sensed something was wrong. She grabbed Dash over and asked, "What happened?" No matter how composed he usually was, he was still just a child. He cried uncontrollably. "Uncle Howard is a good man. I don't want Daddy. I want Uncle Howard." The child I had raised for three years ended up betraying me.

Liora’s P.O.V. The moment the bond burned, the world didn’t go silent. It exploded! I collapsed onto the cold stone floor, my palms against it as my body gave up on holding itself upright. The air refused to fill my lungs. I gasped, choking on something invisible and brutal as pain shattered through my chest like glass breaking from the inside. My wolf let out one last cry and then disappeared in the darkness, leaving me alone as the pain tore my soul apart.

Pregnancy. The third wheel. Those words kept swirling in my mind, causing my eyes to fill with tears. I kept gulping down glass after glass of liquor, thinking maybe I could gather the courage to march up to them and throw it in their faces. But my body wouldn't listen. I remained frozen on the spot, trembling with hurt, and my voice was stuck in my throat. The people at the next table, tipsy from their drinks, suddenly started calling out to Adrian.

Alive enough. The denial split him open. He roared. The sound wasn’t a sound—it was a wound. A tearing. A cry dragged from the rawest part of his soul, reverberating off the stone and down the corridors like a death knell. The prison listened, and the others heard. Eirseth was the first to move.

Each tear that streams down her face is a testament to her profound anguish. As Nora's cries subside, her mind drifts to the painful circumstances that have brought her to this point. The realization that she has been used by a stranger, leading to an unplanned pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage, only adds to her profound sense of loss and isolation. The details surrounding her miscarriage remain shrouded in uncertainty, leaving her grappling with unanswered questions and a deep sense of sorrow.

she cried, curling herself in a corner, in a failed attempt to block the belt from hitting her face. Charles has gone blind with rage, his ears are blocked from the sound of his own curses, he can't hear her cries and he can't see her tears or maybe he just refuses to listen, maybe he just refuses to see her screams fill the silent house with terrifying echoes. The house sobs, and wails along with her, maybe seeing her get hurt, hurt the house, maybe it was just mocking once again reminding her she is nothing but a prisoner to be trapped and tortured in this luxurious house of echoes and screams

It was a cry that refused to be silenced, a cry that demanded acknowledgement and release. Tears streamed down the screamer's face, mingling with the anguish etched upon their features. Their body trembled, as if bearing the weight of a lifetime of pain and suffering. The sound seemed to emanate from the depths of their soul, carrying with it the echoes of past hurts and present struggles.