Fyodor Dostoevsky The Possessed の小説・ストーリー

Inevitably, Douglas' words continue to hover like a dense fog, and he becomes unable to ignore them even in his sleep. Would you be able to lay your head down and sleep peacefully when your hands are full of innocent blood? Theodor was convinced that yes, this would be a burden that, although heavy, would be worth carrying. But chaining your soul to sin isn't as simple as it seems… Especially when you're no longer so sure that your ideal is worth the price of your peace. Lately, Theodor has been wavering… doubts arise in his head and make him confused, doubting truth and reality, accepting that maybe these things are just subjective, a matter of perspective.

My mouth opened countless times, closing and opening, no, I couldn't accept that, so I was going to leave it explicitly. Oh yes, of course Christmas, I sold myself to Santa Claus, which was more than a doll I got, when I sold myself, Even though right now, all I wanted was a taste other than the bruises on my body that Nikolai was real. In addition to a good snow day on a cosy morning, with the strategy of having a good Christmas, sleeping all day. And what more than that necklace to prove it? A man who seemed to have a lot of money, like a king, but who was Nikolai Dostoyevsky, or Nikolai D. ?

Third Person POV The room is well-lit, shimmering in an almost suffocating extravagance. Every surface is adorned with golden intricacy, catching the light from the crystal chandeliers that hang frozen in the ceiling. All while a piece of classical music is playing in the background. A man in a tattered white robe stained with blood sat chained to a white floral chair, its gold accents contrasting the desperation visible on the man’s face. Two men in suits flanked him, they were both equipped with guns, their hands gripping the chair into position as the man tried to wiggle out. The creaking of the giant double doors sent a wave of fear through the chained-up man and gestured that it was a s

Well, if he didn't explain himself to that dickhead of a cousin he had, then there was no doubt that he would be faced with endless teasing, one that he hated with his life. "Yes, I was supposed to find a red hair." He admitted and took a seat on the couch. Out of irritation and anxiety gnawing at his heart, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lighter, immediately stuffing one of them into his mouth and lighting it. "Care for some?" He asked Dante who kept watching him with disgust written all over his face. "That there is a sin against God, I'm sorry but I can't take it." He said directly and everyone just gave him a bewildered look.

“You think you meant so little to me?” Past tense? That was confusing. “I think I mean just enough to make you destroy me,” I said. “You don’t love people, Fernando, you possess them.” His eyes darkened, the kind of dark that makes the air shift. Marlo’s hand brushed the wall behind him, like he was ready for whatever explosion would come next. Fernando stepped closer, every movement sharp and controlled. “You want to talk about possession, Michael? Fine, but don’t pretend you’re some innocent victim here. You knew who I was when you got into my bed.”

As I read everything in my diary, it felt like the words were converted into a movie, and I’m watching it in my mind. Suddenly, all my repressed memories were returning… including the bad ones. “Please, let me go! I need to go to my maman and papa!” I shouted as my hands held onto the iron bars, but no one was answering me. “They must be worried about me now. Please, I’m sure that they’ll reward you once you bring me back!” “And we’ll have more money and power once we keep you captive here,” Eleanor answered with a devilish smile, watching me from afar.

Samantha glanced at the two women, and now their faces clearly showed fear. "Next time, we won't come back here if I see those two faces again. Their job is simply to serve us, not to gossip," her boss angrily said, raising his voice, which scared Samantha, and his gaze towards the two women was piercing. Just one look from him could make someone faint with fear. It was the first time Samantha saw that side of her boss like he was a demon you wouldn't want to confront or provoke. Samantha finally saw the real Lexus Del Fierro.

Dante Fuck! The picture frame hanging on my office wall shattered under the force of my fist slamming into it. What was that? What was I thinking? I wasn’t a man that lacked discipline, my still throbbing dick would beg to differ but I know who I am. I’ve risen to the top of the Cosa Nostra and instilled the level of fear and respect I demand because I always had my head straight and never let things get in the way of the familia or business.

His touch was rough, desperate, trembling with an insane kind of possession. "Say it," he growled lowly. "Say you're mine." Duaa's chest rose and fell rapidly under him. She could feel the raw madness radiating from him — the kind of darkness that could drown her. Fear clawed at her heart, but still — the tiny spark inside her, the fire that made her Duaa — refused to die. She narrowed her teary eyes slightly at him, her voice trembling but laced with that stubborn sass he hated and loved.

When he started trailing open-mouthed kiss down my neck, I was a goner and I started mewling his name loudly. Then, he stopped abruptly and told me in a husky tone, “Let me just lock the door, love.” I nodded almost unconsciously. And within seconds, his eyes were focused on me again. The burning desire I saw in their depths would have no doubt startled me if I didn’t feel the exact same for him. Then, as I remembered how I acted like a possessive mate, I couldn’t help but get flustered. “I’m sorry I got carried away,” I told him sheepishly. “I was just…”