Novel & Cerita Hurting Souls

As if the pain would crush my heart with thousands of knives. I touch my chest above my heart, the very same spot she punched her dagger into my heart. And it hurts so much I didn't know my wolf carries all the time. It was enough to bring me to my knees and that is saying something. He still suffers from that day. That is why he wants that girl. He doesn't want to be this way anymore. He wants to feel free and in love again. What a fool! She can destroy us again and he doesn't even realize it.

His degrading accusations and biting insults carve deeper into my soul, tormenting me relentlessly. Desperation drives me to block my ears with my hands as if by doing so, I could silence the cruel voices that haunt me. But they persist, clinging to me like ghosts of the past, whispering words that cut deep and scar my heart. The weight of his betrayal and the degradation heaped upon me threatened to drown me in a sea of despair.

And with that, turned and vanished, leaving me alone in the lavish room—a room now that seemed more akin to a gilded cage. I breathed deeply, attempting to shake my head into reality from the whirlpool of identity, obligation, and terror. And the subsequent silence afterward that recalled with it a breathy, remembered remnant of what we were. "Don't let them break you, Jasmine. You've always been a fighter." It hurt and comforted me—a memory of what I was, or what I remained to be somehow, in some hidden core of self.

Cristian thought that he would go crazy when he saw the inert body of his partner on the floor covered in blood. His body vibrated so painfully that the wolf stepped outside. Tearing at his clothes on the way he ran in the direction of the man who had hurt his wife, his soul mate, his half, the person he had waited so long for. The anger, the pain, the hatred; A mixture of overwhelmed feelings clouded all sanity, leading him into the abyss of revenge.

We complete each other, yet we are incomplete. Our journey has been the most beautiful one, yet it’s our most painful loss to each other. I love your soul and all that completes you. You always said, “Your scars are my scars”, but your tears and pain are all mine. All of me is all of you. Although we cannot be there for each other, I promise to remember every word, every feeling, and every smile of yours.

I don’t understand how I’m suddenly in this mess. And just like I expected, when I arrived at school, they were looking at me and I could hear nothing but whispers. In a small town like Hillwood, news spreads fast, so you don’t have room to make mistakes. And I never made any mistakes. But somehow, I feel like it’s a sin that dad left us, like I did something wrong. I hate how they’re talking as if me having a broken family affects our whole town.

This was a seething swarm of human souls fighting what felt like a never-ending war. Half-formed and steaming red, elbows knocked out teeth. Fingers poked out eyes. Teeth bared and snarled to bite and tear. They twisted and turned, feet kicking, arms reaching. Souls screaming for release, for escape. For safe passage. Their backs arched and their knees bent, pushing as yet more punched and gripped and pulled and ripped. More red ignoring the laws of gravity to spill and spread in a wandering sea along the ceiling as ephemeral skin tore in jagged gashes.

All three boys were fighting with themselves and trying to make themself relax with the problem they were facing in between their legs. Russell... Being the one attacked. Daniel being the one who unintentionally dig his grave. Because now he was suffering more. He had tasted the forbidden fruit. And Carson. Who had witnessed it all. And all of them were standing under cold shower thinking about how to face each other, and the only option was to IGNORE. "Fuck"... Russell grunted loudly. He shot his load in the shower that quickly disappeared with the water stream. And not to mention. He had experienced the best orgasm in his life.

The further I read, pushing deeper into the most forbidden sections, the more disturbing patterns began to repeat across different texts from different eras and different cultures: One phrase kept surfacing across different texts in different languages, translated dozens of ways but always meaning essentially the same thing: "Wounds without cause are the loudest calls of the cursed." Something had wounded my children deeply, carved invisible injuries into their very souls, and it wasn't physical damage I could bandage or heal. It wasn't any illness that medicine could treat. It wasn't even magical exhaustion that rest could cure. It was something far more insidious that operated on levels mo

What a disgusting disgrace of a human being! Holly Mary, mother of our Savior! Can we borrow your son to come die for this soul again? This one needs special deliverance and saving for God’s sake! What kind of human being is this? Is he perhaps suffering from a certain disease that he is trying to transmit to the whole world through sex or something? How can there be a disgusting, shameless jerk like him in the human realm? I feel Robby slowly take the phone from my hands, and I don’t object. I actually think I have had enough of that pathetic soul. He is nothing but a sick, rotten Dickwhore! A total shame to be associated with.