Gratuitous Violence Novels & Stories

Violence never really was a last resort for me. It is a language I speak most fluently. There is art in destruction, a discord that often strikes me as beautiful. Like the splatter of blood against walls and floors. Like a broken body, mangled beyond recognition. It was amusing, usually. But tonight, I only feel rage.

Coco nudged me, making me look at her. "Wasn't that hot?" I furrowed my brows. "What was?" She scoffed. "The way he put that maniac and his pregnant bitch in their place." "That wasn't hot, Coco." She huffed, shrugging. "It was to me," she said. "You have lived with them for so long that's why you have gotten used to violence. You just called violence hot." She scoffed. "In this cruel world, violence is needed sometimes. Think about that."

He begs “Shh.”I say as I tilt my head. “Don’t say my name. You don’t earn that.”I say as My fist meets his jaw again, and this time he goes limp. Finally unconscious and I stare at him for several seconds, chest heaving not from exhaustion, but because beating him wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough, Violence never fills me; it only spreads, expands and breathes. it turns and spread into something slow, invasive, hungry. It expands through my ribs like smoke, curls around my spine, settles behind my teeth. It breathes, It waits and It wants.

Kurt countered. “No, he wouldn’t! You see, under point 4.1 it states that a Gang Member can use violence if they or their significant are under the threat of harm. I am still classed as Xan’s significant other, as you have not broken off the engagement officially yet!” Grace said. Kurt realised he was trapped by Grace, his eyes narrowed as he asked “What do you want Grace?”

The only reason I choose to take a cold bath instead is that I am fully aware that if I go to the gym in this state of mind, I would most likely also hit Moretti a little. The last time I hit him was two days ago, yet I can't stop thinking about it. I almost feel like I'm craving it. There’s something about landing a blow on his smug face that I adore. My insides get warm and sticky, and my bones become pliable after it works me so hard. I shouldn't feel that way. I am aware of that. It's not good. Violence is not good. It is wrong to hit a teammate. I will never do that again. Unless I'm provoked by him.

"You must be a person who usually uses force to solve your problems, don't you? I can't find another reason why you are so slow to catch on. If that's true, you might not be that smart as I initially thought. As for the answer, it is violence." "Violence? I am not sure I understand what you mean." "As I told you before. It's when you use force or any other means that can harm another individual in order to solve a problem." "Isn't it only natural to use force to solve my problems? How else can I find food in a day? How can I defend my and my parents' honor if someone insults it? This is already a world that is filled with violence. With no violence, problems can't be solved."

She looked like me the night he told me I was nothing. "Don't," I said, my voice cutting through the tension like a guillotine. Antonio froze, looking at me. "Don't do what?" he asked, his chest heaving. "Don't play the big, bad wolf now," I said, slowly rising from my chair. I walked around the table, the heels of my boots sounding like drumbeats in the silence. I stopped two feet away from them. "Violence is the tool of a man who has run out of ideas, Antonio. And clearly, you ran out of ideas regarding this child a long time ago."

WARNING SIGNS: LANGUAGE THAT IS UNAMBIGUOUS CURSING VIOLENCE, GUN VIOLENCE SELF-INFLICTED HARM BLOOD, DECEASE, and GORE VALENTINA’s POV I gripped the razor-sharp blade firmly. I paid no attention to how deeply the blade sliced into the flesh of my palm. My crimson blood that spilled out and stained the floor beneath went unnoticed by me. I felt relieved. Experiencing physical pain in my body was a wonderful diversion from the mental anguish that plagued me.

“Yeah, well sometimes violence is fun.” He grazed her jaw with his thumb before walking to the desk to examine her things. Indignation flared again. He twirled a carbon fiber dart in his fingers. Standing in front of her he was so tall he nearly grazed the light, shoulders broad enough to block her view. Her weapon gleamed. “If you prefer, we can use your method. Violence. Negotiation of the witless.”

"You mean 'treated like fuck meat' as you watch? You can say it, I don't mind." "Yes, I could say it, but I would prefer not to. Like I said, we are not wired that way, not so long ago it was justification for violence. But I must say, your willingness and delight in the act carried a lot of weight in the other direction. I like to see you happy. Plus I admit, I have spent a few weeks on the story, so I was ready for it. I am not up to seeing it every week... but when the opportunity comes up it is good to see you happy."