Figurative Language In The Outsiders Novels & Stories

No words. No hesitation. Just the rhythm of our footsteps against the dirt, the pounding of my heart in my ears. Fang territory wasn’t far. But it wasn’t close either. And every step I took felt like another step toward my **own grave**. Because they didn’t just **hate** me. They wanted me **dead**. I was the rogue who had humiliated them. The **traitor**. The one who had taken what wasn’t mine and left them **bleeding**.

Protecting *himself* from the taint of me. Tears mixed with the rain on my face, hot and shameful. Weak. Crying again. Always crying. Omega tears. Meaningless. I stumbled over a gnarled root, crashing hard onto my hands and knees in the slick mud. The impact jarred through me, a sharp, clarifying pain. I stayed there for a moment, gasping, mud soaking through my jeans, the cold seeping into my bones. The pack feeling was fainter here, muffled by the trees and the rain, but it was still there. A low, insidious thrum at the edge of my awareness. *Outcast. Runaway. Failure.*

My legs passed through the paralysis stage before the numb feeling unraveled into an agonizing pain. “Oouch!” I screamed “Pssttt! Hey! Hey! Garius!” “Garius!!!” I heard some strange whisper coming from somewhere but I was not in the right senses to understand what they were saying. “Shit! The fog is gone!” I’d learned the word “shit” from the humans in our caves, and for some reasons, I liked using the word because it helped me spell out my frustrations. “Garius, look over here!!!”

***end I tossed a box to Clay but as soon as he caught it, a burst of wind passed us by. As my black hair dances with its fierce blow, my skin is irritated from its sharp touch. It was wailing on how displeasing and how dishonest I am to what I am going to do. Tsk, metaphors. I led Clay outside to just to give him that. "Tea--?" he read out in enbafflement

I had a soft spot for one and if I saw someone eating a horse, my heart would sink. He waved his hands, dismissing me. "Of course not! That's a figurative speech. I'm famished. Where are the guards? Guards? A plate of food!" he barked as if he was the master of the dungeon. “Fuck! Stop being lazy bastards!” He shook the iron bars. “Fuckers! Where are you?” I stared at him in disbelief. “Aren’t you scared of what they might do with you?” He stopped and looked at me. The corner of his eyes crinkled. “Scared of those bastards? Woman. I am not scared of anyone.”

They believed that if I just gave in and said I was fine, all those crimes would disappear beneath a pile of money. However, I was no longer that little girl waiting at the far end of the long table for scraps of cold leftovers. Never again would I denigrate myself just to protect my family's reputation.

I realise I’m in a dark street with nobody around besides a man who makes me feel like a mouse in a trap. I force a smile, gesture aimlessly at the road ahead. “My friend will be with me soon,” I lied. “She’s coming back, such a ditz.” He laughs. “You just said she’d bailed. Make your mind up.” “Figure of speech,” I lied again. “She’ll be back… anytime now…” “Sure she will.” He takes a step towards me and I take a shuffle back. “You can drop the lost little girl shit.” “Sorry?” I keep my smile bright, even though my heart is thumping like a bastard.

His gaze lingered in the distance, overwhelmed by mixed emotions. The sky mirrored Percival's mood - overcast, without a hint of light. He opened the car window and took a breath of cold air. The chill traveled down his nose into his lungs. At that moment, he felt like he was breathing in shards of ice instead of air, freezing his insides. He got out of the car with an umbrella. Oliver walked on his right. The quiet street was filled only with the sound of leather shoes on the ground and their breathing. The dim streetlights lit up a pale yellow path, casting long shadows.

I struggled to push them away, but her words rooted themselves in my heart, planting seeds of despair. “You’re nothing, Sophia,” she said, her voice dropping to a cruel whisper. “A useless, pathetic girl who doesn’t deserve a man like Victor.” The pain was unbearable. I couldn’t stand there another second. Turning away, I walked toward the pool, my legs heavy as if dragging the weight of her words with me. When I reached the edge, I sank down, my knees pulled to my chest. The sunlight glimmered off the water, its calm, undisturbed surface mocking the storm inside me.

I said to shook my head. I still feel my blood boil as I cease to mind the glowing eyes as if their host been stiffened since the moment I shouted with a strange heavy voice with a warning. Can't actually thought of any way rather than using such a cute window earlier to going out, and as a result was falling to the outside in a highest altitude. “Who would have thought there's differ in height of the outside and inside?” I always try to feel myself better, think of everything as a mere path to walk in. And a mere hurdles was always expected.