Escape The Fate Not Good Enough For Truth In Cliché Novels & Stories

The foundation of everything we rebuilt, the family we forged from will and sacrifice, will crumble into dust. We try words. We tell him we love him. We tell him he is everything. The words are true, but they’re just sounds now. They bounce off the wall the Bitter Seed has built. He hears the effort behind them. The choice. And the Seed whispers that choice is a weaker, colder thing than fate. We can’t convince him with language. The god of silence has made our words worthless. There’s only one thing left. The truth. Not the story. The feeling.

I mean, who wouldn’t get scared and run away if they experienced all these? Wait…runaway. Maybe I’ve been doing it all wrong since. Yes. If I actually want to escape this place, I have to be smarter. More strategic. “You can’t escape fate, Tessa,” Tyla called out through the mirror. “Running away is futile.” My eyebrow raised with alarm. “You can hear my thoughts?”

“Life’s a bitch, and it never seems fair? I don’t know why I keep pulling the short sticks, making me think death will be a welcome experience instead of something to dread? I can tell you, though, as soon as I get out of this realm, I’m getting my hands on fate and reminding them lives are not something to toy with. I’m not a chess piece, and you can remind your king of that, too.” “Truth.” I narrowed my eyes, glaring at him. “What the hell was the point of that question? It’s not like it’ll help you in any way.” “Oh, contraire,” he professed. Even when he tried to put a bit of sass behind it, he still sounded bland. “It confirms my suspicion that so many of your truths are because of your

"They talk about it like it is holy. Like the moon hands you your other half and that is proof the world is kind. The moon handed me Haydee. It gave me the most precious thing a wolf can be given, a true mate, chosen and certain and mine. And I threw her on a ceremony floor and called her beneath me. Fate gave me a miracle and I ruined it, because fate can hand you a perfect bond and it cannot make you worthy of it. The certainty everyone is so afraid of losing did not make me kind. It made me careless, because I thought a thing I was guaranteed did not need to be earned." He looked at me, and it cost him. "If you are asking whether fate is sacred, ask the man fate could not save from himsel

This is one of the many reminders that we are more alike than we wish to acknowledge. And if we continue to live the way we do right now - where the strong oppress the weak and the voiceless is swallowed up by the voiced - we disgrace the past and don’t deserve the future. Fate, they say, is inevitable… but fate, for me, is just another word for bad luck. Hence, fate is not meant to control us… if you fail to control your fate, it will control you. I am at a cross road where I cannot tell what is real and what’s not anymore… I just hope I’m not losing it.”

To think I didn’t even have his mark… yet another woman now does… this~~ all this is fucking shitty. For a second, I thought maybe I’d stepped into one of those ridiculous W******l stories where the heroine catches her man with his “fated” lover. The kind where the next line is something painfully predictable like “You’re just a chosen mate, she’s my destiny.” I stared at her, then at him, waiting for someone to shout Cut! so I could wake up. But no. This was my life. My tragedy written by some lazy goddess who apparently loved clichés.

My mother dragged me out of my biological father's brutality, and I thought we had finally escaped. Then she married the Don of the Falcone family. The woman who once fought to protect me completely changed. To secure my stepfather's approval and coddle his beloved Sofia, she stood by and let them turn me into a servant in the house I was supposed to call home. Every time I pushed back, they pushed harder. Every time I begged to be seen, I was met with contempt. My biological father's fists left scars on my body. This family's marks went deeper—into my bones. So I stopped. If they never wanted me there, I would stop breaking myself for their hollow approval. I would take my own life back. In

“Excuse me, Mr. Rain, but I don’t quite agree with you. Let’s forget that it’s Felicity Pax who made this and just look at the craftsmanship—” “What craftsmanship are you talking about, Ms. Lewis? I think both of you were just blinded. Crystal, by the fame behind the name, and you for being her best friend. But if you’ll be objective about it, you’ll see how tacky it is.” “You!” Mary’s nose flared in anger. Her nails dug into her palms as her hands balled into fists.

“It’s me. Look at me.” I couldn’t. My breathing was too fast. My nails dug into my palms just to keep from lashing out. I felt it—the snap in my chest, the pull toward power. Toward striking again. Terror hit like ice water. I staggered back, arms wrapped tight around myself. “I—I can’t—” The words clawed out of my throat. “I almost—” The prophecy screamed in my skull. If the calamity is not averted, one of the pair must die, and the packs will fall into chaos.

She had no idea where her family was, all she knew was that she had to get out of there, to find somewhere safe. She made her way down the hall, trying to remain quiet so as not to alert anyone to her presence, slowly and slowly she dragged herself out of the palace and walked all the way home that night. … . “Where is she? Jared asked no one in particular the next morning as they both met in an empty room. “I don't know.." Caleb replied, looking around the room. The bed was scattered, with blood stains. She was a virgin. Jared bit his lips in regret, it was all his fault and he felt so horrible at that moment.