Desperate Living Novels & Stories

I managed to whisper it out, not trusting my voice. "The company isn't doing well and is close to bankruptcy. This was the only way," he said. "So you're selling me off." I cried out. I couldn’t control the tears that fell from my eyes. I turned to my mom, who was close to tears, then to my brother, who couldn't even look me in the eyes. " No, sweetie, never. If we had any other choice, we would never have thought of this, "my mom spoke out softly as she cried. I stood up slowly, staring down at them, hurt and disappointed."

Daren asked in confusion as they all walked down the stairs. They could see Dotun in the living room with Dele on his lap as he caressed his head slowly. “What’s the problem?” Daren asked as he walked into the living room. “Ask your wife!” Dotun fired. “What are you both talking about? Make it clearer!” Melisa cried anxiously. Just then, Elsa and Charles appeared on the stairs and they both hurried down the stairs as they saw everyone gathered in the living room. “What’s the cause of this pandemonium that has deprived me of my sleep?” She asked angrily as she walked towards them.

I didn't want to die, and I certainly didn't want to live a life worse than death. "I made up my mind that way. I was going to jump off the roof of the busiest, most bustling mall. In the thirty seconds after my death, the mall's big screen would light up, showing everyone the suffering and pain I had endured. I would use my death to capture everyone's attention, to demand justice. "But just before I stepped onto the rooftop, I met you. Spencer, I met you. You brought me home, gave me resources, and let me study. "You took me to glamorous events, introduced me to people, broadened my horizons, and after each one, you kept giving me advice, guiding me.

Too bad for them, I actually did spit fire. "Fine, but I think you should scrap Everhart from your mind. Find another target." Desiree's voice cut through my musings, jarring me back to the opulent ballroom. "What! I can't do that!" She stared at me, mouth agape, eyes wide. The look, strangely enough, reminded me of the hamster my father accidentally squeezed to death. And I use the term accidentally loosely. I jolted, shaking my head to dispel the unwelcome memory. I sighed, meeting Desiree's dramatic gaze. She always had a flair for the theatrical, but she wouldn't say no unless it was a genuinely bad idea. "Why? Give me one good reason, and I won't contact him."

I'm pathetic. Drawing down the curtain with one hand, I light a cigar with the other, inhaling the smoke and exhaling perfect smoke rings. I feel so miserable right now. I need someone to transfer all the pain and mystery to. I decide to text Mr Craig, the manager of the brothel that supplies sluts to me. Luca: I need a slut who has absolutely no respect for her body. Craig: Any specific description? Luca: Must be shameless and well experienced. And willing to do anything I demand no matter how depraved. I'm talking broken bottles, chains, whips, hot rods, drugs, 5 hours of wild pleasure.

I could only believe William and follow him to the outskirts to live with his relatives. However, he brought me to a wrinkly old man instead. The house was run-down, dark, and covered in spider webs. The old man was afraid that I would escape, so he put a dog collar around my neck. However, I had just given birth. How could I have the energy to escape? I could only look at William helplessly. I no longer had tears to cry. “Where is our son? Did you sell him?” My blood had soaked the train seats because of a premature delivery.

I said, desperation edging my voice, that eternal debt to him feeling like crushing weight on my shoulders. "Just go ahead and name something," I said, trying to think quickly. Almost instantaneously, I saw flashes in my mind of every single possible loophole I could find in this nasty deal. Desperation continued to rise with every passing moment inside my entire being, like a tide that threatens to pull me whole and drown.

"Oh no. She'd better not die. If anybody asks, just say Laura tried to beat me up, and I was just defending myself. Got it? Throw her into the back alley. Not many people would go there. That way, we won't be responsible if she dies from excessive bleeding." When I opened my eyes again, all I could see was white walls. My grandma, who had been living alone in the countryside, was sitting next to me. "Bradley, you bastard! Your daughter is now hospitalized because of your adopted daughter! What the hell are you doing right now? How could you not come and check on your own daughter?"

Or disappear. But I didn’t have the luxury of guilt or honor right now. I had a dying father, a sick mother, a sobbing sister, and a hospital bill that could bankrupt a small firm. Desperation doesn’t ask for permission. It doesn’t give you time to think things through. It just claws at your throat and drags you down until you either fight or drown. And I wasn’t ready to drown. I stood up and walked to the hallway, trying to catch a breath away from the antiseptic smell and the low murmurs of nurses. My lungs burned with restraint. Everything felt sterile, controlled—except for the chaos clawing at my chest.

Rhea whispered shakily: “He’s in Phase Omega. There’s no precedent for this. No survival.” Lena turned on her. “There HAS to be a way!” Rhea grabbed her shoulders. “There isn’t. He’s becoming a living purge core.” Lena’s voice cracked. “He is NOT a weapon! He is NOT gone—he is—he’s ALEXANDER!” Rhea’s face softened for one moment. “I know. But he’s also dying.” Elias — Breaking Point Elias staggered, holding his ribs. Every breath felt like knives.