Hate Novels & Stories

“What does that mean?” “Nothing,” he chews. “Hate is subjective. It varies from person to person. Do you see me hating your brother the same way you think I hate you?” I shake my head. “But hate is hate, isn’t it?” “I want to hate-fuck you, I want to hate-kill your brother,” he shrugs. “See the difference, bambina.” My legs press together as I pretend to ignore his words. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“But how come? You’ve always hated me. Why were you hurt when I started dating Steven?” “Can't you see? Hate is the second strongest emotion to love. I only hated you because I loved you, because I couldn’t be with you.” What kind of crap show is this? I reached for the remote and changed it to a basketball game. Yes, this makes more sense. Sports, not stupid love dramas. Hate is masked as love. Ridiculous.

Abyss looked at Mango whose eyes blazed with hatred for him. The feeling was so foreign, and it hurt all the way down into the deepest parts of his soul. Her hatred for him was so apparent that she brought out all the evil in him to the surface. In fact, Abyss had been trying to find out Mango's bottom line and whether or not Mango cared for him, but now he realized that he could not bear it when he looked into Mango s hate-filled gaze. "Katherine, do you think it's justified for you to slander me like this?"

She hates this as much as I do. But hate won’t break this mate bond.

I hate the breach. And I hate him for making me hate him.

Chris asked, tilting his head. I shook my head slowly. "No, I don’t hate them. I just… I just don’t like their guts." "And what’s the difference? You still hate them, right?" Aby pressed. "There’s a huge difference between hate and dislike, okay? I dislike them. That doesn’t mean I hate them. And seriously, I still wonder why everyone adores them. They cause trouble every single day!" I exclaimed. Chris shrugged. "Well, that’s their nature. They love causing trouble. Their day isn’t complete without it."

“Admit it.” She shook her head, tears blurring her vision, a silent battle raging within her. “No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “I hate you.” He smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his lips. “Good. Hate is a powerful emotion, *cara*. It keeps you alive. It keeps you sharp. And it makes this all the more… interesting.”

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.”

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.