Fated To Her Tormentors Novels & Stories

The four figures threw a giant chain over her body, the chain coiled around her, tightening immediately it got in contact with her skin, they held her down, her body spasmed uncontrollably, streaks of tears rolled down her face. My heart constricted at the sight, “You will spend a century in the pool of torture, a century in the sea of silence and a century wandering in the lost world. After your punishment, you will be thrown into the pool of endless reincarnation, you will re-incarnate endlessly in the mortal realm until you are able to redeem yourself.” Her mouth moved to say something, but no sound came out, suddenly her eyes locked on me, like she could somehow see me. She let out a wea

The chains of fear and submission that had bound her to their whims were now shattered, replaced by a thirst for retribution. "For every single thing they did to me," she declared, her voice carrying the weight of her past struggles, her experiences of pain and betrayal. Each memory etched into her consciousness, each scar etched onto her heart, had shaped her into a woman who was no longer content to be a victim of circumstance.

No matter how much she thrashed, no matter how hard she fought, she couldn't break free. And in that cold, merciless room, her screams of agony and horror echoed— A harrowing testament to the cruelty of fate, to the darkness of humanity. "NO!!"

I let out a sudden giggle, but I didn’t acknowledge Sherry or greet her by her name. “Pardon me, Sherry, she remembers nothing.” His sigh sounded long and heavy. “I was too late, she was tortured at the hands of Lenard Lee and his lackeys.” “But she… I didn’t mean for all this” Sherry was panicking. Her feet were jittery and her skinny fingers trembled. I felt sorry for her, yet I needed to keep up with my pretence.

he declared, with his eyes displaying blood shot red with madness. Uneece fisted her hands. Her mind was swirling with theories crashing against each other. No one called her that name for a long time. That name was a living nightmare that she had buried deep in her memories. It served as a reminder of her pain and suffering. Her tormentor—who experimented with her body against her will. It was that madman, Popa, that branded her with that name like she was a piece of property. The one who shattered her body and spirit, leaving her with nothing but the resolve to live.

He had instilled fear in her, but little did she know that escape from his clutches would only lead her into the hands of far more sinister men. Now, she found herself at the mercy of three men whose cruelty knew no bounds. They were the puppet masters, mercilessly pulling the strings of her life. The freedom she had yearned for, that precious breath of air untainted by constraints, and the sense of individuality she had once possessed were all snatched away from her. At the tender age of nineteen, she had become utterly helpless, and the passing of time had not brought her any respite. Helplessness quickly merged with hopelessness, leaving her trapped within the confines of a life she never

Fate had handed it to her as a gift, a rare treasure of vision and understanding, but it had also been a slow poison, gnawing at her soul until it finally consumed her. Her life unfolded like a tragedy pulled straight from the myths of old Greece. Love had twisted into betrayal, and even the bond between mother and son had shattered into bitter enmity. In the end, she had no choice but to bind herself with her soul, a desperate act to hold back the darkness. Trapped in that evil, she became entwined with defiant, restless children, their rebellion wearing away her spirit until finally there was nothing left, her soul fractured, consumed, and gone.

And not just any bomb—one meant to end her life. ‎ ‎How will she survive? ‎How will her child survive? ‎ ‎Her thoughts spiraled into despair as her pulse raced. ‎ ‎“Please don’t kill me,” she cried, her voice trembling so much it nearly cracked. “I will give you whatever you want… please just let me go. Please.” ‎ ‎She pleaded desperately, struggling against the ropes, ignoring the pain that shot through her arms. Her belly rose and fell with each frantic breath. She was pregnant, helpless, and tied down—if the bomb didn’t kill her, panic alone felt like it might.

He tried to argue, but even he didn't believe the words he spoke. "She'll eventually come after you and them." She stated matter-of-fact. "She'll find a way to kill you. Deep down you know she will. She's becoming more than what we anticipated and it will get worse." Her voice lowered, filled with urgency. "Please Zal." His eyes shifted back to hers. "Fight with me." He could feel their bond tremble from the unshed emotions within her.

Our lunge forward had jerked them all with us, some of them falling over and other glaring at us. Panic began seeping in, it was one thing to break free of chains, but silver ones also attached to a group of other captured women? We couldn’t just drag them behind us. Nya’s rage began bubbling as my panic crept higher, she chomped down hard on the silver chains connecting us, slamming her teeth down over and over. I could feel our teeth crumbling with the force and the chains felt as if they were as strong as ever. “Stop!” A woman close to us cried, “stop you’ll only harm yourself” she was coated in dirt and soot, nearly black from the filth, except for the streaks down her face and drops on