Novel & Cerita Heart Ripped Out Of Chest

“He’s dead boss… I’m the only one who made it out. I swear, Alpha... this man moved with the strength of ten men. He-” He didn’t finish. My hand went through his chest like a hot knife through butter, and his eyes bulged, his mouth frozen in a silent scream as I ripped his heart out with a wet, sickening sound. Blood splattered across my chest as he collapsed to the floor, lifeless.

“No… no, no, no.” I sit up too fast, pain slicing through my spine, but I barely feel it. Panic crashes into me like a wave, cold and brutal. I reach inward, past fear, past exhaustion, reaching for the bond. The bond that has always been there. And then, it snaps. The rupture is violent. Not a fading. Not even weakening. A tear. It feels like someone is taking their hands and ripping something out of my chest. I scream as pain explodes through me, sharp and blinding, stealing the air from my lungs.

Pain exploded through my chest like a part of my soul was being ripped away, torn out by the roots and discarded. She was gone.

He felt a stinging sensation in his chest, as if his heart was shattering into a million pieces. ******************************

I'm too horrified to say anything at the massive hole in his chest where blood is oozing out like a river . I clasp one hand against my mouth to stop myself from throwing up . I can see his stomach below and his heart beating so rapidly . It seems as if it's threatning to pop out of his chest cavity . I need to apply pressure , stop the bleeding . But .. how do I apply pressure on this huge laceration. I don't wanna make things worse . " Get away from him " He says with such dominance and arrogance that it pisses me off . However , I can't afford to get angry because I don't have the strength to back me up . I'm weak .

My fists coiled tighter, shooting out to clutch at my chest. I think that, but why does my heart feel like its being ripped apart into pieces?

There was even a vehicular fragment stuck on the chest. Jason instantly approached that person and spoke with relief, “The heart is not damaged.”

It couldn’t touch the hollow ache in my chest. I punched again. And again. Until the wall dented, dust drifting down like snow, and my hand throbbed in time with my heartbeat—raw, pulsing, useless. I slid down to the floor, back against the damaged drywall, breathing hard. Blood smeared the white paint in dark streaks. My chest felt caved in—ribs too tight around lungs that refused to expand properly. She was gone.

I don't know how many other things I also sat there thinking that I was wishing I didn't do, or had done, or just plainly done differently. When I opened my eyes I looked straight into the wide-open, shocked and lifeless eyes of the man. He had a gaping hole in the middle of his chest where I could see right through him. I couldn't control the screams that left my body, trying to get up I slipped, and how I wish I never looked, but I did. It was what I was assuming was his heart that had been ripped from his chest. It was still clutched in my left hand as if I had been the one to pull it right out of his chest.

Every threat, fear, emotional moment, had tears streaming down my cheeks as I twisted my hand within his chest. I ripped his heart out with one swift pull. Blood squirted from the open hole in his chest and his head fell slowly to the side. Abe’s eyes remained wide open. I threw his heart across the room, stumbling backwards and backing away from his mangled body.