Knuckle Dragging My Life Away Novels & Stories

I whisper to myself in pain I feel my heart breaking into pieces,I'll never heal from this pain Katerina is dead and it's all my fault.... . .

My dress is falling apart in his claws, and he is dragging the pieces down my body while he is bending his head down to sniff my crotch and inhaling deeply. His hot breath tickles my clit, and even though I want him to taste me, he instead drags me out of the car totally, his hold tight around my calves. I want him to taste me because his hot breath tickles my clit. My body crumples to the ground, but I don't seem to strike my head as he takes me to the shoulder of the road. Somehow, I avoid injury. He holds me down in the slush while the grit and salt from the dirty snow cut into my skin. The shoulder is broken and muddy, and he is holding me there. When I put more effort into this, the dir

I mentally shaped each nail, touched each freckle, traced the length of each digit. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I concentrated. Panting, exhausted, I was about to give up. To lay here and let death take me. My big toe curled. Fuck yeah. I wasn't some pansy-assed sissy. I was Kiema Freaking Feuer. Suck it, douchewads. Wiggling my big toe around in circles, side to side, up and down, anything to keep the motion going. Soon my other toes joined in on the fun.

When Alice tried for the third time, he finally responded. "Alice, can you stop being so petty? Anna's in serious danger. Stop making a scene and just wait in the tent, okay?" In the background, Alice could hear Anna's voice. "Alexander, my chest hurts… Rub it for me again…" "Okay." Then came the rustle of clothing being removed, followed by soft, intimate gasps. Alice cut the mind-link. In that moment of distraction, pain shot through her ankle. The snake had struck. Mad with pain and fury, she grabbed a rock and smashed the snake until it was dead. Then, she limped back toward the camp. The moment she saw the glow of the campsite lights, her legs gave out, and she collapsed.

His fingers dig into my skin , making me cry even louder. “I did not want to do this…but you forced my hand love” he says love through his teeth. He steps away from my body , leaving my right hand drop the floor. He holds on tight to my right arm , and begins dragging me upstairs. My feet are frozen to the ground , I place all my weight upon my heels – trying to prevent him from dragging me to whenever he is going. He notices this and clicks his tongue in frustration. He turns around and closes the space between us. In a flash , I am swung over his broad shoulders and he continues his journey with me trying to wiggle myself off of him

My life was a living hell. I stood up and walked to the door. I banged with my fists on the door and yelled as hard as I could. My hands were beginning to throb and my knuckles turned purple, blood flooded out of my knuckles. I let myself slip to the ground and my butt came with a soft thud in contact with the cold stone floor. I gave up. Tears were running down my cheeks, and my body was shaking by every sob I gave. I laid down on the cold stone floor and pushed my knees to my chest for warmth. My eyes dropped close and darkness came to me.

I attempted to scramble away from it, but the harder I struggled, the more it latched on. The black tar wrapped around my body; it threatened to consume me whole. I fought against the substance; everywhere it touched felt heavy, cold, and numb. I kicked and scratched, trying to escape, but the more I fought, the more exhausted I became. The cruel goo snaked its way up my chest, closing in on my head. Was this it?

My fingers slid on my thighs drawing my eyes downward. Blood. I'd scratched deep gouges into my legs. It brought me out of my partial paralysis. I could never give Luke the key to my soul. I was the ice queen who needed pain and degradation to make life tolerable.

The adhesive tears a strip of skin right off my forearm. I don't even have time to register the sting. My legs quit the second my weight shifts. I hit the concrete on my knees. The missing toenails scrape against the rough, dirty floor. It’s a white-hot, sickening flare of agony that makes my stomach pitch violently. I don't scream. I can't. My jaw is locked in a useless, grinding spasm. I’m just dead weight. He drags me across the room and my knees bounce off the uneven concrete, bruising bone deep with every step he takes.

His body convulses, heels digging into the ground as his hands claw at the constricting band. I drag him backward until his weight hits the grass with a dull thud. His windpipe strains beneath the tension, his panicked gasps rasping wetly. I lift my boot and bring it down on his throat. The sound of his vertebrae snapping is like brittle twigs. The fight drains from his limbs, the life gone before his brain can process the end. The cigarette lies on the ground beside him, its ember dying with a faint hiss against the damp blades. I drop the hose, the rubber slipping from my fingers, and step over his body without looking back.