Novel & Cerita I Woke Up And Chose Violence

Asked, "You planned this?" Kieran did not answer because he did not need to. The truth was already there. I stepped forward slowly toward the console ignoring the chaos, the shouting, the panic. Because this was the moment, the one I almost died for, the one I lost everything for, the one I came back for. My fingers hovered over the controls then I smiled, cold, certain and for the first time completely in control. I said softly "You wanted me to choose?" The man in black glared at me with rage burning in his eyes. I continued, "Well I choose destruction." I pressed enter.

"I did not stop. That is the truth of it. I could have stopped. I chose not to." I do not tell him it was justified. He knows it was justified. That is not what haunts him. "You were fifteen," I say. "And you chose your mother over your own safety." "I chose violence." "You chose her." I press my palm flat against his heartbeat. "Those are different things." He is quiet for a long time. "I have never told anyone that," he says. "I know." "How do you know?" "Because you told me like it had been waiting a long time to be said."

The elevator doors opened. I walked out quickly. Behind me, Ethan's low, urgent voice called, "Sophie." I did not hesitate. I did not stop. I kept walking until I escaped the crowd. Only then did the tears come. All the hurt and resentment I had pressed down surged up at once. At fourteen, I learned that my mother was in the ICU after trying to kill herself, and that my father had another woman outside our family. I had been lost and terrified.

I can still see the blood flowing from his wound, and it makes my stomach turn. I try to stand up, but my legs feel like jelly. I'm shaking all over, and I can't catch my breath. I'm hyperventilating, and I know I need to calm down. But how can I calm down when I'm trapped in this tiny room with no way out? I look around the bathroom, searching for an escape. But there's none. The door is locked, and the window is too high to reach. I'm trapped. I think about what just happened. I shot Victor. I actually pulled the trigger and shot him. I can't believe it. I've never been violent before, but something snapped inside me. I couldn't take his abuse anymore.

Victoriå I woke up the next day in a really good mood and decided that I'd make myself a nice breakfast. It was honestly rare for me to wake up this happy, and I wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. As bad as things had gotten in my life in the past few months, currently things seemed to he looking up and I was really happy about this. Getting out of bed, I slipped into my fuzzy slippers and went into the bathroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face before going downstairs.

" I sense trouble looming in the air." " We landed ourselves in this trouble, you say. " He paused and took a deep breath. Then, he raised the face of violence. Taking a bottle of cool beer from his table, he poured down some of the contents into his belly. Then, with one look, he launched the bottle on the head of his newly made adversary. The noise of shattering glass resounded through the whole place in the midst of the calm followed by a grievous shout of cry by the victim of the violence. The surprise hit everyone.

Getting shot in that alley was the second time I would get shot, first time I got shot, I was in a bar brawl. The guy pulled a gun after getting jumped by a couple of us, he shot and the bullet went through my arm. I thought that felt awful until I was bleeding out in the alleyway. Most of my days in America were violent, I had been shot, stabbed and I did some horrible things myself. When I got to the sanctuary in Japan, I thought it was over, I sought to put my violent past behind me but I could not have been more wrong. I realized my violent past was not over, it was indeed being kick-started. I failed to put my violent past behind me, I keep failing to do it. Violence just has a tricky w

But my father’s glare pins me where I stand. “Davon,” he says, his tone like ice. “Do it. Or I’ll shoot you both.” The shot goes off before I even realize I’ve pulled the trigger. The man falls forward, lifeless. My ears ring. My hands shake. My stomach twists. Grande places a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Good. Remember this moment. Mercy is for the weak. And we are never weak.” That memory burns inside me even now. It shaped everything. Violence wasn’t just part of survival, it was the only way to survive.

Before I could finish, he cut me off impatiently, "Yeah, work's calling. I have to go." He rushed out the door, and I didn't press him further. However, my doubts grew heavier. Was he really that busy? I followed him, and that was when I saw the happy family scene I had just described. I lifted my numb fingers and hit record, capturing the entire scene in front of me. When I returned home, I locked myself in my room and played the video on repeat. While I lay unconscious, someone else had quietly taken my place. What was the point of waking up at all?

he begged. I hesitated for a moment, considering his plea. But then I remembered how many times he had promised to pay me back and failed to do so. I couldn't let him get away with it again. Without warning, I pulled the trigger and watched as Vincent's body fell to the ground, blood pooling around his head. I felt no remorse, no guilt. This was the life I had chosen, a life where violence and brutality were necessary to survive. "Clean up this mess and pack those money," I instructed my men and walked out of the house to my car.