Guts Screaming Griffith Novels & Stories

" Right then, Isaac arrived to pick me up. Jeremy lost it at the sight of him and bellowed, "Violet Sadler! You've been with Isaac all along, haven't you? That's why you're kicking me to the curb now!" My steps faltered for a second, but I just shook my head and kept walking. I'd barely gone a few paces when a piercing scream split the air behind me. I instinctively turned to see that Jeremy had somehow grabbed a pen. He straddled Savannah and raised the pen, looking crazed as he drove it toward her throat.

A low, grating rumble shakes the ground, and dust cascades from the cavern ceiling. Evelyn grips my wrist. “I think you just unlocked it.” My heart pounds as the door groans, its heavy form shifting ever so slightly. A sliver of darkness appears where stone should be. I lean forward, straining to see what lies beyond. And then—a voice behind me freezes me in place. "Stop." The single word sends a jolt down my spine. I whirl around—and come face to face with Yohan.

Holt's eyes flipped in their sockets and felt as if someone ripped off his soul. ~AAAARRRGGGHHHJDSH A loud burst of anguish echoed in the area. Holt rolled on the muddy ground like a writhing snake trying to cover up the hole in the leg with his hands. Grisha, Alia and Varun turned their necks at Creed in fury. Justin pulled out his sword. "Gryffon!! You bastard…"

"I will say that you have a pretty good grip." "I'm sorry." I stare at him, then at my own hands. "I don't know what came over me." So that was my scream. "Well, good thing you got out before you killed me," Griffin laughs, a dry, husky sound that shocks me. He also notices and collects water in his hand. As the liquid flows into his mouth, I begin to recall the vivid images that were dancing in my head.

However, I can’t stop myself until I burst into the room where I can feel the traitorous bastard. "Son of a..." I growl, taking in the sight in front of me. Laying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood is Griffin. His torso is cut open and splayed out, showing all his organs and bones beneath. His eyes are glazed and blood seems to be leaking from them instead of tears. But that isn’t the worst of what awaited me. On the wall straight ahead was a message written in blood. Three words, just three words that sent rage and fear crashing through me.

“I think it would be even better if you go f*ck the meat grinder.” Griff laughed out loud and even jumped around in joy. He was even in tears as he laughed, but it was not known what was funny with what Javier had said exactly. Griff wiped his tears and said to Javier, “Alright then. Since you’re such a playful one, allow me to grant your wish.” After that, Griff waved his hand at his underlings. “Go on, go bring out the meat grinder. We’re going to have our eyes peeled as this guy here shows us how great it is to be able to f*ck it!”

Shocked, stunned, disbelieving, Griff lowered the binoculars – automatically and stupidly – then glued them back to his face. The man was on his knees now, and it looked like he was throttling Claire as she wrestled with him for the backpack. Every single one of Griff’s protective instincts surged up and forward, and suddenly, he wondered if he was about to watch Claire Worthington get killed on this lonely mountain road, in the middle of a snowstorm.

"I love watching trash like you squirm." He snatched the tongs from Johnny and drove them toward my mouth. I clamped my jaw shut on instinct, but the tip caught the corner of my mouth and tore it open. The taste of blood spread across my tongue. That seemed to delight him even more. "Pry his mouth open. Anyone who helps me out tonight gets a car. One each." The groomsmen needed no further convincing. They crowded around me, wrenching at my jaw. "You had the nerve to cross Danny? You've got a death wish."

He begins to cough and shake uncontrollably and I watch in horror as a gush of blood and brownish-black fluid suddenly implodes, reducing him to a pile of guts, bone and fragments of skin. The room becomes unbelievably bright and I drop the crystals when the rancid smell hit my nose. I barely cover my mouth long enough to walk a few feet but it's no use. I throw up the contents of my entire breakfast, hunched over as bright red droplets of my blood begin to mix in.

She tried to edge backward, but the reporters blocked her path. At last, Henry slid from his chair and dropped to his knees before my mother and the black box. "I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking so hard the words barely came out. "Grace, I'm sorry." My mother held the urn tighter and didn't answer. I stepped forward and gently placed the black box in front of him. "The person who deserved to hear that can no longer hear anything. Because of you, she lived her whole life without a clean identity. After she died, even a cemetery application was delayed because her records had already been stolen by you."