Guts Crying Novels & Stories

Then I leave. Downstairs, I pull out chicken broth, rice, ginger, garlic, and green onions. Comfort food. Easy on a stomach that's probably knotted with stress and fever. I'm chopping carrots when the first sob tears out of me. I drop the knife slowly. Both hands fly to my mouth, trying to trap the sound, but it's too late. Tears roll down my cheeks as I tremble under the intensity of my own grief. I cry for the boy who was cut open and told it was art.

"Even though my world is falling apart, I'd still want to make sure yours isn't, okay?" "Until then, let yourself feel. Let yourself be...human. Fuck the society. We're going to bring back your humanity, okay? Whoever said men shouldn't cry can go to hell," Jackson laughed, his shoulders shaking. I nodded, allowing a small smile. "When we're born, crying is the first thing we do. Crying symbolizes...pain, joy, a...feeling. It's... Crying is how your body speaks when your mouth cannot explain the pain anymore,"

I understand how she felt. In the history of cringe, I had never cringed so much in my life, steel rod clamped in warm hole? "Don't you want me to gobble your kitten I bet it will taste like fresh tomato juice?" It was my turn to cry. I felt worms crawl within me, not thunderbolts or sparks. I felt worms at his words. Drops of tears rolled down my cheeks as I cringed internally, the fact that he tried to make his voice huskier was worse.

my voice hitched and then cracked David hit the brake immediately and they all turned to look at Jordan on my leg The angry droplet of rain hit the car hard, tears I couldn't control streamed down from my face as I looked at him on my laps, crying my eyes out I wished I could go out so that it will wash away my tears, anxiety and pain. There was a lump in my throat and it was very hard to swallow. I didn't know how I felt, I couldn't explain or control it David cursed nonstop, slamming his hands angrily on the steering wheel, car seat and everywhere

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. And I cried. I cried without dignity or control without fear. The kind of crying that starts somewhere deep and biological and works its way out through your chest whether you want it to or not. The kind that sounds ugly. The type that tastes like salt and regret and too much whiskey but you're not quite drunk.

A scream pulled from me as I went flying down with all four legs waving all through the air. I had jumped off a cliff without even knowing. My scream got even louder. Lord, please, please not like this. Why! Why! Why! My intestines went up my belly and I thought I would vomit them out. My body shifted mid air, already seeing myself die with the tears dropping but I refused to die crying, die scared and screaming like a little bitch.

Or dying after all. My hands came loose in the next second, and I was lifted off the chair. Strong arms wrapped around my abdomen from behind and pressed hard. Once, twice, thrice; the food spewed out of my mouth. My throat burned, and a cough so violent shook my body that I doubled over, letting out more than what was inside, my vision blurring. Even the rubs on my back did little to nothing to soothe it. I didn't know what came over me suddenly, but I started crying. Full on sobbing. Maybe it was the frustration from all that was happening, or the lack of food clouding my judgement or simply the fear of death I might have just escaped.

There was this crucifying pain in my gut. It felt like something had ripped my guts open, gnawed them out and left them bleeding. I felt like a dying bird that is killed for fun by hunters solely for their own pleasure. There was so much pain that I was afraid to look down but I did. I looked down on my stomach. There was nothing there. Absolutely nothing. I touched myself in disbelief but I was completely fine. What? What is happening? Where is this pain coming from?

Tears leak out of my eyes with effort. I keep squeezing. A strangled cry emerges from his throat. His legs tremble. His look widens, and he finally looks like to realizes what is happening. He grips his dick and raises it. The fragrance of his cum is everywhere, mixed with the food and the unwashed sheets that reek of shit. My stomach churns, and I know I am going to be sick. My surface crawls with revulsion. My biceps go solid, then I twist his head.

I just knew where the toilet was, and I barely made it, collapsing to my knees in front of the porcelain bowl just as my stomach convulsed. The sound was a harsh, guttural retching that felt like it was tearing me apart from the inside. Hot tears sprang to my eyes, stinging from how much torture I was going through. My body heaved, and I held on to the cold rim of the toilet, my knuckles white, as I threw up my entire gut.