Hearts That Cut Novels & Stories

She groaned, "fuuuck.. you're wet." I giggled, "I know..." "Are you ready?" Before I could nod my head, all my senses came back and I could hear the song again.. "....My heart beats, for you, girl you know you are the one. Why you mad at me? Girl I know I made mistakes, I know I fucked up. But my heart beats for you baby I'mma go 'head scream it loud. But if you leave there's something I can't control, So let's do it one last time, a fuck for the road......."

Rey asked while crossing his arms. “I'll call it, Flames of Heart.” Excitement filled her heart when she picked up her phone to call Butter. “Hey, Butter!” Waverly beamed. A smile is stretched on her face. Butter chuckled. “You already finish with the potion?” Waverly nodded her head as if Butter is in front of her. “Yep! Can we meet? You agreed on being my tester.” she said in a singing voice. “I know, but—” Butter sighed, “I'm sorry, A. I'm out of the country, I'm in Spain now.”

It feels like death, just the same as bereavement and in quiet moments, it chokes my breath. Only Marvis whom I loved so much could be my assassin. It takes an inside job to attack one so resilient to emotional injury. That is my heartbreak. My heart has been shattered to millions of pieces that I don't even know how to pick and gather them so I can mend it.

I send up a prayer, and plunge the dagger back in her chest so I can cut out her heart. Twenty minutes later, it’s all over. The zombies lie where they fell. Harriet’s mutilated corpse is staining the grass red. The swamp is quiet. I stare at the heart in my hand. It’s still pumping away, despite the massive hole in it, but with every contraction of the muscle, it grows a little weaker. The corpse, however, is stock-still and growing colder by the minute. I throw the heart on the ground and step on it. The last of her blood spatters over my boots and jeans.

staggered slightly, catching himself before falling. “It’s all of them,” he whispered. “Every message, every voice, every choice they tried to bury.” Lena stepped closer, eyes wide as she looked into the expanding grid. “This is what they were afraid of,” she said. “Not the Heart itself—the connection it creates.” Adrian nodded, feeling the truth of it pulse through his veins. The Heart wasn’t just a piece of technology. It was alive in a way no machine should be. It didn’t store data; it remembered. It carried echoes of intention, emotion, history. And now, it was showing them everything. The lights around them shifted, coalescing into shapes—faces, moments, fragments of the world outside.

She relished the moment… while I hid the cutter under my body with one hand and pressed my gaping wound with the other. The crowd was bawling now and I paid attention to them to realize they were demanding for my heart. “Give us her heart!” “Give us her heart!” “Give us her heart!” They were chorusing. They sure liked to be entertained but unfortunately for them, I wasn’t going to be serving as an entertainment today. I was planning to keep my heart. I need my heart, and my heart is staying in my chest right where it belongs.

Everything we had has been a lie, a whole load of lies. More tears welled up in my eyes, as I stared down at my feet. I clenched my fists, quickly drawing in breaths, hoping the feeling would pass. I felt a sudden ache in my chest and slowly rubbed my chest, trying to ease the ache in my heart and gulped in air once again. It was so hard for me to breathe. I tried to clear my throat but the twisted lump remained drawing my voice together.

“THE HEART!” I saw it—felt it—a knot of veins pulsing at the crater’s center, red and gold, the CITY’S HEART, beating in sync with the fractures spreading block by block. I sprinted, dodging tendrils that slammed the ground where I’d been, each impact sending shockwaves that cracked my teeth. A vein whipped my ankle, yanking me off my feet. I hit hard, air punched out, but rolled, Dad’s knife—somehow in my hand again—slashing the tendril. Ichor burned my skin, but I was up, running, leaping over a burning tire, sliding under a tendril that sliced the air above me.

He looked at the horizon, where a single, black helicopter was rising from the other side of the ridge, its lights off, silent as a predatory bird. "They’re leaving," Dante said. "Wait," Ivy said, grabbing his arm. "Look at the fountain." The mountain of silver hearts was gone. In its place, the grey-habited woman sat on the stone edge, holding a single, real, human heart in her hands. It was still beating, connected to nothing, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic thud. She looked up at them, her eyes now the same shimmering silver as the twin in the photo.

My eyes stared at Brum who stared at me as if asking why I was staring at him. I swallowed my feelings before snapping my head back around the room. “ Yes, the fastest and most accurate way to kill a vampire is by pulling out their hearts. I think we should stop teaching our warriors to fight and start teaching them how to pull hearts as fast and as efficient as they can. We need to stop fighting for the sake of fighting. We need to go into a battlefield with the only goal being to kill thus that goal being nothing but to pull hearts. A warrior should be able to pull more than four hearts in a split second, they should be able to do it in their sleep. That would mean for them to not shift bu