Knuckle Dragging My Life Away Novels & Stories

I dragged myself forward, fingers trembling against the smooth tile, knuckles scraped raw from earlier attempts to haul myself up. And then it hit again. "F-fuck!" I snarled, curling in on myself as my body betrayed me for the millionth goddamn time. I barely made it to the toilet in time. Again. My legs shook beneath me, weak and useless, as if my bones were being hollowed from the inside out. Every time I thought it was over—every time I dared to hope—I was slammed back into agony—a savage cycle of pain and humiliation.

That doesn’t mean accidents don’t happen and that doesn’t mean bad irreversible things don’t happen during accidents. Sometimes, they’re fatal. And other times, they just lead to death. But whichever the outcome, hopefully and gladly the latter, I’d be sure to drink my wine satisfied that every ripped part of my body has acquired justice by punishing the cause of it all. My nails dig into my skin, clawing my neck as I scratch it downwards till it lands just at the start of my collar bone. I’ve been doing this all day and despite my neck being sore, I haven’t stopped. I have an itch that doesn’t seem to be satisfied. Every second I’m aware of that wench living peacefully while I suffer, the i

it was as if someone was choking me. My hands flew to my neck, trying to rid myself of the invisible hand sniffing life out of me, but the force got stronger. Still staring at the mirror, my reflection laughed at me, a low, terrifying chuckle. Slowly, I went on my knees, my eyes were already blood shot, I was losing it, my life was slipping away.

I opened my eyes to come across the baffled ocean, ready to bring the apocalypse into my life with thundering emotions. “Then, you must be the happiest one, my fragile. I am correcting my mistakes.” He traced his finger over my jaw line while narrowing his eyes at me. He pushed me with so much force, I was losing my balance, but he took my wrist again under his possession and dragged me with him. “Marcc….. Nicoleeee ‘’ I pleaded for help went unheard. They were watching him drag me in front of the cross. They turned their faces away.

I wаѕ drаggіng оthеrѕ undеr wіth mе, and I knеw that wasn’t fair. I ѕtооd uр to tаlk, tо try to ароlоgіѕе, but my throat ѕtаrtеd tо сlоѕе. Thе mоnth that раѕѕеd hаd been long аnd dаrk. Every ѕіnglе second hаd been рurе torture. I’d barely еxіѕtеd and thаt wаѕ nо life аt аll, but іt wаѕ hаrd tо mоvе оn, tо fоrgеt hіm, to actually bеgіn tо lіvе again.

KILLIAN My vision blurred as I made my way down the hallway. My muscles were screaming, the addiction creeping into my veins, poisoning my insides. Apparently, my shattered wrist was the least of my troubles. A shiver ran through me and I winced, brushing my hair off my face. I needed some relief of sorts. I'd been fighting this for a while now and I have suddenly realized that I'm losing the fight.

Another grabs the back of my neck, pushing my head down like I’m some animal he’s trying to dominate. “Oh I swear to fucking—” I struggle, kicking, clawing, biting even, because dignity doesn't matter when someone is dragging you across your own damn floor. I manage to elbow one in the ribs, and I hear the satisfying grunt—but they’re too many, and I’m already drained.

my body slowly disintegrates... what will happen to me from now on... will I go to heaven? maybe hell perhaps... all I can see is darkness... where am i... I try to move my hands *tug* there was something blocking my hands from moving forward I check my foot and try to kick but there was this wood that is blocking me *tug* tug* I try to exert more energy in my arms trying to break this wood in front of me *tuuggg* tuggg* ttuugg*

Disgusting habit. “Let’s go, girlie,” the rogue said, giving up on trying to make me stand. He grabbed my ankle and started to drag me to the basement door. I didn’t have to pretend weakness. The wolfsbane caused excruciating pain wherever he was touching me. The floor was rough and I could feel my skin tearing on the floor as he dragged me over it. I cried out and struggled weakly. I didn’t want to go down into the basement. It was dank and it smelled wet and moldy. I was worried I would go down and never come back up.

If anything it gets worse, this deep cramping pain that makes my knees want to buckle. I groan low in my throat, sliding my hand up and down even though it feels like I am rubbing sandpaper over raw skin. “I'll kill you, I'll kill you if I find you.” I groan. Damnit...Argh I slide down the door and craws to the center of room, sitting on the carpet, legs spread, hand still working furiously. The groans turn into something closer to whimpers and I hate the sound of it coming out of my mouth.