Deathly Loneliness Attacks Novels & Stories

Whispers, filled with hatred and despair, echoed in their minds, a psychic assault designed to break them. Maya felt a cold dread grip her heart as Xol'thul loomed before them. The sheer malevolent energy radiating from the entity threatened to consume them whole. Whispers, a cacophony of hate and despair, flooded her mind, insidious tendrils attempting to unravel her resolve.

It feels like she's looking straight through me. "Around the family, I'm okay. I feel safe with them. But when I'm alone, dark thoughts creep in. The voice in my head starts sounding like theirs. And I start believing them... that I really am evil." I pause to breathe. I look away from her and pull at my sleeves. Words are hard sometimes. "In those moments, I want to feel pain. Because pain from the outside used to quiet the noise. And maybe that's why they called me evil. A good person wouldn't want that." My voice cracks on the last part. A tear escapes before I can stop it.

on his knuckles were glowing with a sharp, agitated amber. "The 'Spring-Million' are calling them 'The Dead-Zones'," Avery said, her voice a "Sovereign-Melody" that smoothed the jagged edges of the room’s tension. "People walk into an alleyway in the Financial District and suddenly, they can't 'Feel' their neighbors anymore. They lose the 'Connection.' They become 'Individuals' again—the old, lonely kind. The kind that would kill for a 'Million-Dollar-Advantage'." The Anatomy of the Individual-Dissonance

Don't forget—I still have that video of you coming on to me the night you got drunk! I stared at him in disbelief. My voice was hoarse as I shot back, "Clinton Whitfield, are you seriously using that to threaten me? And you call yourself a man?" But he scoffed in response. Whatever trace of guilt he had shown before was already gone. "Don't forget today is the anniversary of your mother's death," Clinton hissed. "She spent her life teaching you to have self-respect. You wouldn't want her to know how shameless you've become since she died, would you?"

Lara Waking up was a chore. I really didn’t want to wake up but did it anyways. Life seemed pleasant at the moment. So, not wanting to get up isn’t due to laziness or no motivation. It’s because of Orion and Crown. I’m happy that they stayed until I fell asleep. Orion would have checked the house before he left, so I’m not concerned. A feeling of being safe came over me. I’ve been single for such a long time; I notice the little things. It’s been a while since I felt good upon waking up. Actually, I can’t remember the last time I felt good when waking up. I got out of bed, and then my ears perked up. There were voices in my house. It startled me because no one should be in my hous

“It happened only once. I know I shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have let it happen, but it was fucking freezing outside and I had a few sips of vodka to warm me up and—I know it’s no excuse—” “It really isn’t.” “I know!” Vlad said, frustration and regret lacing his voice. “It’s just—there’s something about that kid that makes all my men agitated, and I’m not an exception.” Eton's eyes narrowed. He had an inkling what had his men so agitated. It wasn’t even the girl’s pretty face or blowjob lips. It was the air of innocence about her. The urge to dirty her up would be nearly irresistible to men who didn’t have a shred of innocence left.

There was something about Instrumentals music that calmed my soul when my emotions became too much to bear. “You’re sister said you were the brooding type, but I didn’t believe someone who killed people like they were no more than a fly in the room could be so pathetic,” A low voice muttered from the far corner of my room. “Guess I was wrong.”

Uselessness is a new emotion for me and, combined with the overwhelming feeling of loneliness, the combination feels nearly fatal. It only seems to get worse by her waiting on me hand and foot. We have been back for almost two weeks and anytime I wince or get a little sweaty, she panics and fawns over me. She will make a great mom one day, but right now, I don’t need a mom. I need a mate and maybe a little space. It’s a little ironic how loneliness can make you crave alone time. It’s not that I need or want to be alone, really. But I need some space to breathe.

My flesh is smeared with my sweat as I sorely clench my jaw locking in the emotions that bound me every night. The clock reveals to me the time of my mourning. Three early in the morning, an ideal time to be awoken and to be shoved down into the hell of loneliness. The silence is severe, but what is more brutal is that he is not present to comfort me post horror. To hug me and love my terrors away. Why must the one whom your soul seeks never respond? Why must he reside in that endless stillness that cuts you and lurk behind towering cliffs knowing you cannot climb?

If he was still alive, he would have felt everything she felt and more, when she was killed. The feeling of your mate being killed before their time has been known to drive wolves insane forcing them to become forsaken wolves. Crazed men and women who shifted to wolf form and became wild killers. They are hunted by both human and werewolf for the terror they cause. Lately there has been more forsaken than usual. There was something happening and I need to find the reason for all these attacks. Before heading to the hospital, I decided to link Marcus for an update. “Marcus, anything new?”