Death Tear Novels & Stories

Blood slid down my temple, darkening the carpet. Rosalind stood backlit in the doorway, the love bite on her collarbone burning my eyes like a branded mark of shame.

Alessandro's says his voice helping to soothe me this time, rather then scare me. "Breathe." He repeats once more, taking in a large deep breathe and holding it, making me follow his actions. My body slowly coming back into reality, as my hear rate slows down. The tears clearing from my eyes. Alessandro's hands brush up against my cheeks, wiping away my tears. I don't dare to look up, too afraid to see the disgusted expression I know he's giving me. Looking out the window, I notice we've come to a halt on one of the small roads leading to his estate. I start shaking again, knowing we haven't even arrived yet.

Theodore mumbles. I feel a sharp pain cut through my heart, one I haven’t felt in years. Along with my pain comes my anger. It’s no coincidence that my father died the same day as Ronan his best friend. The Inner Circle has something to do with this. I hear the small voice growl in my head and I flinch. I might have hated the man, Theodore King, but no one has the right to take his life from him, except me! “There might be hope after all.” Alex continues, watching me cautiously as he speaks. I feel my hands visibly shaking from the anger I’m feeling.

How did the wind blow it over when it was so heavy? Soon, my consciousness began to fade, and my eyelids grew heavier. I slowly collapsed into the pool of blood, my heartbeat slowing as time passed. I could feel my vitality slipping away. Before I died, I managed to dial a number, and I heard the sound of the door unlocking from the fingerprint lock. I assumed it was Harvey, but my eyelids no longer could stay open, fluttering shut eventually. But at my very last moment, I heard a phone ringing—and it was gradually closing in.

Her throat tightened, a pang of guilt piercing her heart as she read the words aloud in her mind. It was the same announcement from that day. 'Xiao Xun, they were the ones you died protecting...' Right then, pictures of the deceased started to merge into one. Miracle froze. Sweat dripped down her lashes, blurring her vision as her eyes widened in shock. Through the haze, she saw the figure of a teen emerging. She couldn't make out who that was, but it definitely wasn't somebody alive. His torn ribcage, shredded flesh, and snapped veins painted a horrifying tableau. Each drop of blood that fell to the floor echoed like a pounding drumbeat on her conscience.

"The kidney inside me… it was Jocelyn's… We were wrong about her all along…" Floating above them, I finally heard the answer I had longed for in life. So… after my death, they did feel sorrow. They did cry. It was just too late. Far too late. They would never receive my forgiveness. And I only hoped that in every lifetime to come, I would have nothing to do with them ever again. Joel ordered his bodyguards to drag Vivian toward the operating room. She struggled in panic. "What are you doing?! Let me go!"

Intense. Real. An affliction with no antidote. Because no pain can come equally to what I felt at that moment, how it was all ripped away from me when I saw life ever so slowly leave his eye; nothing can take away the vision of him as he slipped away from me. It doesn't matter which way you slice it, look at it or analyze it. It'll always come up with the same sum... same fact, that he is dead. And the man who killed him is still out there. Still breathing, alive and planning more ruin.

In the end, I died on a cold autumn night—no sunlight, no sunflowers. A breeze swept through, carrying away the last of me. I felt no regrets. This time, I'd be truly gone. Before moving on, I took one last look at the world. There stood Jayden before my grave, holding a bundle of sunflowers. Bathed in golden light, he looked just as he had the first time I'd seen him.

The blood had nearly stopped flowing. The position of his right hand was strange; his fingers curled as if trying to grasp something. I crouched down. In his open left hand, written crookedly in blood, was a single word: "Run". 02:14. One minute left. 02:15 came. Nothing happened. I was still alive. "Substitute death successful. Eric Dawson was killed at 2:14 in Parking Lot C. Remaining loop time: 48 hours. "Go to Parking Lot C. There’s something for you."

“The path of Death is a destructive force. It kills the curse, yes, but it carries a catastrophic price for the one who bore it.” Damien pushed off the wall, his hands clenched into fists, his body trembling with suppressed fury and anguish. “So my death saves her line but destroys her? Makes her a shell?” He looked at Sofia’s still form, the thought of her vibrant spirit being snuffed out, leaving only an empty vessel, was a torture more profound than any physical pain. “That is the path of Death,” Kieran confirmed, his voice somber. “It is seen as a last resort, a terrible price to pay.”