I Woke Up And Chose Violence Novels & Stories

And I knew I was either going to leave here unscathed or…the other way round. I waited with bated breath, seizing all forms of struggle so he could relax his hold on me. And just as I felt the cold sharp canines hit my neck, going for the kill, I stuck out my elbow and with all the strength I could muster, I hit him hard in the stomach. He groaned painfully, stepping back and of course letting me go totally so he could reel over as he held his arm around himself. “You bitch!” He screamed. For good measure, I kicked him in the face and he fell flat to the floor. I gasped, suddenly feeling like I had gone crazy because it was the first time being violent but I shrugged it off. I had no right f

Violence is a last resort. I chanted the mantra that had allowed me to get through college and grad school in record time. After I'd passed my GED at the age of fourteen, I'd gotten some hard lessons in being an adult. BJJ and an iron will have served me well. I wasn't going to ruin it on this arrogant man who probably saw me as nothing more than street scum to be washed from his shoes. My steps were soft, measured, as I walked through the living room into my bedroom. The disarray that greeted me added more fuel to my angry fire. My room was a fucking mess.

I had to stand on my tip-toes to reach him, resting my head against his shoulder. I stayed silent, trying to process the whiplash of his emotions. I had expected him to fly into a rage because I’d shouted at him—insulted him—but instead, he seemed to be crumbling. “I love blood,” he confessed into the silence. “I cherish violence. It’s the only thing that makes me feel calm. It defines who I am.” My eyes widened. I pushed back slightly, holding his face so I could look him in the eyes. Was he serious? Was this a confession or a warning? I waited, gesturing for him to continue, desperate to understand the darkness living inside him.

“Is it? I still came ready to pay extortion. Still played by his rules. Still let fear drive my choices.” “You protected our family. That’s not wrong.” “Isn’t it? I spent months telling kids at the youth center that violence isn’t the answer. That there’s always another way. And the first time I’m really tested, I fall right back into old patterns.” “You didn’t—” “I did. And Viktor saw it. That’s why he walked away. Because he proved his point. I’m still the same person I always was. Just with better PR.” He dropped the bags. Walked to the bedroom.

~ Emily ~ Morning light came slicing through them big-ass windows, hitting us just right—three bad bitches sprawled on that sectional like we’d been through hell and came back ready to plan the next war. My head was still heavy from everything we let out last night, but my blood? It was alive. Buzzing. ’Cause revenge got a flavor… and baby, it’s bitter, it’s hot, and it’s finally within reach. I was posted up cross-legged on the couch, drowning in an oversized tee, notebook balanced on my thigh, pen tapping like it was ready to choose violence any second.

I smiled back before facing Mason again, each word precise and merciless. “Because I chose the right person. And you… you belong in the gutter.” That was the final blow. Mason lunged at me like a man possessed, shouting, “I’ll kill you! You—!” Edwin’s expression hardened. Before he could get close, Edwin drove a sharp kick into his chest. Mason was sent flying, hitting the ground hard, blood spilling from his mouth as he lay there, unable to get up. Security rushed in immediately, pinning him down.

I woke up with a concert of drums in my head and an urgency that kicked me in the belly, threatening to shoot out of my throat. I got up, crawled to the bathroom, and vomited a lot. Furthermore, I make an effort to breathe while I make the oath of the dawn, “I do not drink again.” When leaving the bathroom, I am surprised to see a hand offering me a glass and the other two pills, I look at his face, and the floor seems to collapse. It was him; the cowardly dog was there with me. It is possible that the floor opened up and a river of lava flowed out of it. Filling me with anger, I slapped that glass, breaking it against the wall. “You are a bad man!” I shout at him and slap him in the face, a

“You don’t like hearing it, but it’s true. You’re your father’s son. Your first instinct is always to choose violence, because it’s all you know.” I move before I think, one hand slamming against the map. She doesn’t flinch. “I killed him,” I growl, voice low and rough, “Because that was the only way to keep this pack from disintegrating under the weight of his blood lust.” “And I hated him,” she bites back, eyes bright with an old fury, “But I still wake up hearing the sound his neck made when you snapped it.” Silence slams down between us. The lantern flickers. My wolf stirs, restless, prowling the edges of my skin. I pull back, forcing my breath steady, letting the shadow of violence blee

One who only knows violence. There was really only one way I could save anyone. It was the same way I destroyed everyone. Violence. Watching the doctor work with his hands, delicately examining her, trying to decipher the problem with nothing but light touches, I was both fascinated and bored. I could never see myself doing that. I'd rather punch another person to save one. That was the best and only way for me. "I don't think the Luna is in any danger," he said after a while. "But she fainted," Soren remarked.

The other half of my soul. Why had I done it? The question gnawed at me. I had never laid a hand on a woman before—never even considered it. Violence was for weak men, men who couldn’t control their impulses. And yet, in that moment of blinding fury, I had become exactly that.