Hate Hate Double Hate Loathe Entirely Novels & Stories

The most stupid thing I've ever heard. "You are so funny. Oh my god. I haven't laughed like that in years. Go ahead ruin him but don't forget to call me to cheer. I don't care that you know about his other business or what you could do. Do whatever you want ruin me for all I care, just don't show me your face cause I hate it. Wait do you want to show me the consequences as well. Go ahead show and leave." I say with a smile. "You have mental problems I am sure about that. Consequences? What the fuck is that suppose to mean? Why do you hate me so much? Not that I care I am just curious." He asks.

He also said he did not hate me again? Why did he even hate me before? Maybe because I'm poor or... maybe because I'm rude. If he didn't hate me, does that mean he likes me? Wait! the opposite of hate is like right? I paused my bicycle and stepped down. I want to examine how he reacted yesterday. If the opposite of hate is like? So when Raymond said; "Alice, I did not hate you, he actually meant, Alice I like you, right? " Huh! Can he like me?

Emmet had clearly said, when he had been alone, that he hated her, and that he was willing to stop for Jasper's sake, but only if he woke up. Hate... was a strong word. It was a strong emotion. Hate reached heights and depths that she had never personally reached. Hate achieved levels of contempt that even a good portion of murders didn't reach. Hate was cloying, heavy, and choking. It was calculating beyond the means of sanity. Hate was something that, once it had been given, one couldn't return it. Hate wasn't something that Lila hadn't even felt towards her mother. Yet Emmet had clearly stated that he hated her.

Riley began carefully, “that Thanksgiving dinner at your house was easily one of the strangest experiences of my life.” Priya straightened her spine. “Strange how?” “Imagine a table full of adults calmly discussing stuffing,” Riley said, painting the picture, “while Sloane and Chase sat directly across from each other, acting like they hated each other.” “That sounds perfectly normal,” Leah said. “It was *not* normal hatred.” I buried my face in my hand. “Riley.” “It was *athletic* hatred.” Jake blinked. “Athletic hatred?” “Competitive. Sweaty. High-stakes.”

I clasped my palms together, hoping he would see the desperation in my eyes. “If you have any ounce of conscience, Eve, then you’ll marry me. Are you not afraid of Arthur finding out? Do you want to be back on the street, homeless?” He pushed me out of his way, leaving me on the ground while I cried till I was tired. I hate my father, I hate him so much that I wish he would just go to hell. It was because of him my mother died, and now—just when I was about to start a better life, his deeds are back to haunt me.

Not the quick, white-hot flare of normal anger. No — this is darker. Thicker. Heavier. Hate. I’ve never hated anyone before. I’ve disliked people, sure. Even loathed a few in passing. But this … this is different. Amanda Dee is no mere irritation. I despise her. Hate her.

“Because if not, I’m going to impale you on the white picket fence in front of my house.” Scarily enough, he didn’t doubt her threat for a single second. 18 Baby Blues “I? hate you.” “I know.” “No words can describe how much I? loathe? you.” “Yes, I realized that long ago.” “I? despise you.” “Uh-huh.” “I? abhor you.” “Wow, it seems like you’ve been reading the thesaurus. I applaud you, Talia, I really d-“ “Fuck off!”

With a swift, deliberate motion, I spat directly onto his face, the act a visceral declaration of my disgust and loathing. "Screw you, Lucien,” I snarled, venom dripping from my voice. “I loathe you.” His eyes widened in shock, but his furrowed brows betrayed a flicker of concern. “I hate you so much, I wish the curse consumes you, that you suffer a death so agonizing, so merciless, that nothing – not gods, not magic, not even the most powerful witch– can save you,” I spat, tears streaming down my face as I hurled the words at him like daggers. “May the moon goddess herself forsake you, may your death be a slow, torturous march into eternal darkness, and may the curse be your eternal shroud.

“Why do you hate Callan so much?” Lucien scoffed. “Hate is a strong word. I prefer deeply despise.” Hazel narrowed her eyes. “That’s the same thing, genius.” Lucien smirked. “Not exactly. Hate is wild and uncontrollable. Despise is… carefully nurtured, like a fine wine.” Hazel rolled her eyes. “Oh great, not only are you psychotic, you’re poetic too. Fantastic.” Lucien chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “You’ll appreciate my depth soon enough.”