Hard Knocks Novels & Stories

He looks pleased with himself that he solved the puzzle. “I simply don’t want your money, Mr. Smith No matter the amount you offer me, my answer will remain the same.” He frantically takes out more notes and slaps it on my forehead. “You little greedy thing, acting like you’re all high and mighty.” I take a deep breath, ready to unleash all that has plagued my tongue. I have nothing to lose after all. It’ll be hard if I leave here but it won’t be impossible. I’ve lived out of the streets before, and I’ll do it again if it’ll protect the little self worth I had left.

Mistaking my behavior for defiance, Leon commanded Sylas and Lucian to pin me down while he carried out the punishment. “These tools were last used on the Duke of Yves. They are not lethal, but they will make you wish you were dead. “Even the tough duke confessed his deepest shame. How long do you think you can last until you break?” As the iron tore into my flesh, I let out a blood-curdling scream. Sweat broke across my skin in streams. I couldn’t even stop my tears from falling. A desperate plea escaped my lips. “Please, just end me right now…”

[68] ||Still On Flash Back|| Hardie was already in his grade eleven in high school and every thing was going on pretty well between himself and his father. The last three years was actually hell for father and son when Kendrick find out he has a hole in his heart which needs to be treated to avoid further implications on his health. Hardie had to put a two years stop to his schooling doing menial jobs to gather enough funds for his father's treatment, that was when Hardie was introduced to selling hard drugs with out his father's knowledge.

Before he was overcome by passion—he would immediately stop this. Ugh! Amel kicked Hardin's leg. As Hardin stepped back in pain, he held his leg. That was Amel's chance to escape. “Damn it..” Hardin hissed. “I’ve never been short of women. But getting just one is so hard and draining. I can’t even sleep with her.” Hardin punched the wall again. “Damn it!” ~~

Klempner I stab into the cement with my steel 'pick', then thump at the shaft with my fist, hoping for that rotten-tooth-in-socket nudge that might say it's finally working loose. Nothing... My stomach twists and churns. Beyond hunger now, my craving for food is a constant, griping, gnawing ache that drains energy and spirit. I could just lie down and wait for the end. Fuck that... My shoulders ache. My limbs ache. I keep changing from one hand to the other for my work, but now, knuckles and fingers are a mass of small cuts and abrasions which spike painful reminders at me with every move I make.

I pleaded with the guy with the mask on, and the other one kept kicking me. The other one searches my body like I’m some kind of whore. “Please, just take what you want. I don’t have anything else.” “Shut up, bitch.” the blood is flowing like a river out of my mouth. I can feel my ribs crack one by one as the person keeps kicking me. My vision became blurry. They kept hitting and kicking me until I could no longer focus on the pain anymore. I remember my stepfather used to keep telling me, “You're weak. You will never be able to defend yourself.”

He has only left me one choice, and that is to beg harder. ===========================

Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she sprinted to the door, grabbing her bag and laptop. The gold earrings on the glass table flickered before her eyes. She rolled her eyes, then quickly grabbed the earrings and walked out of her suite. Lylah darted through the hallway, weaving past people without slowing down. Her heels clicked rapidly against the floor as she rushed along the corridor. A big frown embraced Lylah's delicate features. Her day seemed determined to worsen as the day dragged on. As if on cue for yet another misfortune, she twisted her foot and collided with what felt like a hard, chiseled wall.

“Don’t you love her?” “I do! But that doesn’t mean I want to get married now! I don’t want to get married now! I don’t want to have babies now!” “Oh, sorry,” Natasha muttered. He glanced at her shivering body. “Oh, I’m Malcolm, by the way. Malcolm Grayson. What’s your name?” he asked. “Well, Malcolm, we will both die of cold or pneumonia if we stay out here for one more minute.” “Of course. Let’s leave, then. It’s stupid anyway, running away from something I’ll eventually have to face.”

Feathers explode into the air. I kicked the card table over, the laptop crashes to the ground, screen cracking. I stomp on it once, twice, the plastic splinters. The closet, if you can call it that, is just a metal rod screwed into the wall with a hangers. Black tactical pants, a couple of long-sleeve shirts, a leather jacket that still smells faintly of rain and gun oil. I rip them down, i shred the pockets with my keys, found nothing but lint and a spare magazine for a Glock.