Heart Ripped Out Of Chest Novels & Stories

DAMIEN My chest hurt. It hurt so bad. Like someone had shoved their hand right through my ribs and ripped my heart out with no warning. Every breath burned. Every second dragged. I sat in my car for a long time after leaving Macey’s place, my hands gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart. The world outside blurred behind my tears, but I didn’t even bother wiping them at first. What was the point? Whoever said men don’t cry clearly never loved hard enough to lose everything.

I was not playing at anything anymore. I drove my hand into his chest with a single powerful thrust, breaking through bone and tissue until my fingers closed around his still-beating heart. His eyes widened in shock and pain, his mouth opening in a silent scream. I held his gaze as I ripped his heart from his chest, the organ pulsing once, twice in my bloodied hand before going still. His body toppled backward, eyes still open but seeing nothing.

I ask. The moment she parts her lips to give me an answer, the pain in my chest returns with full force. I double over with a groan, coughing up blood. My mate turns pale as she holds on to me, her eyes wide with terror. "W-what's wrong? Talk to me," she chokes out. The pain worsens, and I let out a strangled gasp, my knees giving out. It's at this point that I realize that there's no way around it. I have to take out the nails in my chest. Right now.

I could feel it, like a star imploding in my heart. My chest tightened so violently I couldn’t breathe. My lungs forgot how to work. My throat burned with the effort of holding back a scream that never came. My hands were fists but numb. My vision blurred but I refused to let the tears fall, because if they did, I’d never stop. My heart… my heart was shattering into something unrecognizable. A million pieces. No, more. Tiny fragments of something that used to be alive inside me.

Does everyone feel this way when they’re handfasted? A pain like I’ve never felt before rips through my chest so hard that I jerk and gasp. I choke on my own breath, fighting to get air back into my lungs. Frantically, I let go of the edge of the pool and tread water, running a hand over my bare chest. It feels like someone stabbed me, or punched me so hard they broke all of my ribs, but the pain passes nearly as quickly as it came.

Each heartbeat pulses agony through my veins. My breath catches in my throat as I gasp, trying to comprehend the visceral pain that courses through me. The crimson stain spreads across my chest. My knees buckle beneath the unbearable weight of suffering, and I crumple to the ground. The world spins, colors dancing in chaotic disarray. I feel the very essence of my existence is leaking away, leaving me stranded in a vast expanse of nothingness. Are these the final strokes of my life? I wonder with my eyes gazing down at my bleeding chest.

So why did it feel like there was a gaping hole in my chest? "Please do." The indifference in my voice was a facade, but he didn't know that. With a final scorching glance, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through my chest, leaving a hollow ache. The tears came the second he'd left the room. I collapsed onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably as I rubbed at my chest. Tears streamed down my face, soaking the pillow. I had done the right thing. I knew it. But God, it hurt so, so much.

Tariq The wound is high up on the left side of his chest, through-and-through, exit at the back below the scapula. The entry is clean. The exit is messier. Fragments of plate ceramic from the edge of his vest have come through with the round and are now somewhere in the muscle behind his shoulder blade. Possibly in the bone. The bleeding from the entry is bright red. From the exit it’s darker. And he’s lost too much already.

It shattered. It felt like someone had reached into my chest, grabbed my heart with a frozen hand, and squeezed until it burst. I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air that wouldn't come. The agony was blinding, a white-hot fire that raced through my veins, screaming at the loss of the other half of my soul.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the bloody wound on their chest. Or the hole where their heart had once been.