Living Hell 소설 & 이야기

Hellen fired back. “Yeah, really? Don’t make a mockery of yourself, Hellen! I would probably be dead by now if I chose to stick with you in this misery. This den. This disgusting place and life. But I went out of my way and made my own life. I have acquired more than you can ever imagine. I can buy the entire city if I damn please, while all that you have earned in your entire pathetic life can even buy you a decent meal."

"Yes, this is Keanu's parents' house from 23 years ago." Les Halles was a city that created many of the worst memories, the place where Dhira had once carried a child she had never wanted in her life, though in the end, that child died. It was where Dhira's body had been treated like an animal, violated like a despicable woman, not even deserving to be called human.

My empire. Above ground, people come for the liquor, the music, the bodies pressed against each other beneath red lights and expensive perfume. Women grinding shamelessly against strangers beneath flashing lights. Men drown themselves in expensive whiskey while smoke curls lazily above their heads. Loud music vibrates through the walls hard enough to shake the floor beneath your feet. But beneath that? That’s where the real De-Helldoralz lives. Where people stop pretending to be human. The deeper you go into this place, the uglier it gets.

Aryan lay completely paralyzed in the freezing puddle of his own dark blood and filthy mud, actively drowning in his own silent, agonizing tears. The freezing, suffocating isolation of the underground cellar violently crushed his completely shattered soul. He was physically tethered to a rusted boiler like a diseased, violent dog. And in just a few agonizingly short hours, the harsh morning sun would violently rise again, mercilessly dragging him completely out of the darkness and forcefully throwing his broken, violently shivering body directly into a brand new, unimaginable level of absolute, terrifying hell. He weakly curled tighter into a pathetic ball, desperately begging for a death th

It is full of everything we have just set in motion, and it stretches from this room to the chapel to the courtyard to the unpaved road that leads to the world outside, and somewhere in Calabria a phone is ringing in a room where my uncle is waiting for a report that will not come. I fold my hand over hers on the watch. The gold is warm from her skin. I do not know what comes next. I know only that the oath I swore at Lorenzo's grave is now a lie, and the woman beside me is the only person in this house who has ever seen me without flinching, and the page against my chest is the fuse, and I am going to light it.

Chloe rushed over to hug me, but no matter how I moved, I couldn't catch her. Then her eyes filled with tears. She sobbed, heartbroken. "Mommy! Why won't Mommy come see me! I miss Mommy, I miss Daddy. I want to go home. It's so cold and hungry here. I'm so scared. My head hurts so much." When I woke up, my hands were numb. My face was covered in tears. A dull, aching pain pressed against my chest.

"We're going to live with it. We'll look each other in the face every morning and see the damage. We'll breathe this poisoned air. And maybe... maybe one day, there will be nothing left but ashes. No more fire to burn us. No more desire, no more jealousy. Nothing." It's the worst threat. A prophecy of hell. A life of apathy after the inferno. "You prefer that?" I murmur. "A slow agony?" "I prefer that to knowing you are in another man's arms. I prefer your living corpse to your life without me." MIKE

She comments further, her eyes searching mine. “That would be luxury, wouldn’t it?” I raise my brows, attempting to stand up only to remember that my bones still hurt and I need to be careful. “I wish he’d just do that.” “You don’t want to live. Is that it?” “What? This isn’t life. So yeah, I don’t want to live it. It’s hell living like this. I spent my childhood and teenage years in a prison they call an academy. It’s either you become a bleeder, breeder, or a feeder. If not, you’re damned to the cold room, and they say that’s a much worse fate than even a bleeder. Why? All for what? What did we do?”

It wouldn’t always be an illusion of what she secretly wanted to see here, currently, she was happy, so she was seeing things that made her happy, but should someone cross her or she gets upset, she will see Hell for what it really is. “Home, sweet home,” I said as we approached my Victorian-era style home. Abby’s face was somewhat surprised, “It’s…beautiful…” She said and I chuckled at her. “Come on, I want to show you inside.” * * Damien had his hand on my lower back as we walked up to the all-black house. I dreaded what I would find once inside his home. More of the Hell that Damien knew and loved with shackles and more burning ember to walk on. I took one last look at the sky above me an

Vary pours the last of her soft drink into her mouth, “how did your day go?” “Well, you deserve it best friend, my day was hell, had to talk to this girl who says she still sees her dead mother of five years and she believes what she’s seeing and called me Lucifer.” She barks out a laugh. “I almost bust out laughing because that was the last thing I expected to be likened to ‘cause I do hate Lucifer.” After laughing for another minute, Vary sympathises with her friend, who seems to get red with her crankiness. “You signed in to that drama, name-calling with crazy people, the moment you studied psychology in college. So suck it up and man up to the responsibility girl.”