Martyr Book Review Novels & Stories

"But the dead deserve dignity. We should cremate it quickly. We can't let some unclaimed body delay your generous gift to me. I'd feel terrible." Just then, Kip arrived. He tenderly brushed sweat from Jen's temple, his sigh heavy with adoration. "You're too compassionate, Jen. After everything you sacrificed—the self-experimentation, the pain—you still defend deserters. It hurts to see." My brother, mirroring Kip's heartache, was about to agree when a construction worker yelled, "Hey! What's that shining in there?" All eyes pivoted. A cold, metallic glint winked from within my decayed rib cage.

“She was alive. There was a mistake, it wasn't my fault, Alpha Sebastian.” I knew it, I knew this fool would get me angry, I shut my eyes, not because I was angry but because I needed to silence the drum of disappointment in my head. “ How badly hurt?” I inquired. “Enough to frighten her. Not enough to end her life.” I breathed out slowly. “Alright.” A pause came through. “Okay sir?” “Yes,” I replied. Martyrs are witnesses who are dead. Living people turn into liabilities. When the heart is still beating fear is more effective.

- I responded back, burying my thoughts deep. My face flushed realizing that he had been able to pick up these X-Rated thoughts so easily since I had been so deep into it. The book hadn't helped at all to keep my mind on my task for the day. It had been the equivalent of "See Spot Run" in the Draygonian world. Nerrian rolled his eyes and closed the book. He set it off to the side on a pile of books that never quite made it back to his shelves. I don't think this will work today. Nerrian admitted shaking his head.

"Maybe I'm just tired of crying." "Or maybe," he leaned closer, "you're realizing that martyrdom doesn't suit you as well as you thought it did." The words stung because they were true. I wanted to look away, to retreat back into the safety of silence, but something in me refused. Something that had been slowly building since I watched my habit burn, since Margaret's betrayal, since I realized that six years of suffering had earned me nothing but more suffering. "At least I had a choice in my martyrdom," I said cynically. "You don't even have that luxury."

I have chosen eight of my best fighters; their stealth, speed and strength combine should be able to take out an entire army of Crimsonhill. Marty was never one to train his warriors, and neither is he one who looks out for the wellbeing of his pack. As I look out from underneath a hood that covers my face, I see bodies; dead bodies piled one on top of the other right outside his pack gate, all rotting and filling the night air with the stench of death. Some were torture victims, others were pack members who tried to rise up against Marty’s inhumane rule and many who tried to flee the pack but were alas, captured and put to death.

Clay replied. My fingers twitched faintly against the sheets. Creates another. Selene’s voice cooled. “Explain.” “If she dies now,” Clay said, “she becomes a martyr.” The word settled into my bones. Martyr. Selene inhaled sharply. “Only if we allow that narrative.” “You think you can control grief?” Clay countered. “You think her supporters will simply accept that she succumbed to wounds?” “She attacked the beast,” Selene said. “She was injured. That is a fact.”

I don't want to reread or relive the last chapter of this book of my life. I have spent years hiding the hurt and heartbreak that consumes me. The need for antidepressants has come along with being repeatedly rejected and tormented by someone I care about. My belief is the pain wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the knowledge of knowing it's all pain Seth is inflicting on me. I am not sure what is happening but I don't think my heart can take anymore. I've spent all evening laying on this bed shedding more tears than I even knew I had.

“Sheriff.” “You did this to yourself. Not me! You screwed up your life. And you killed six people because you’re a deranged entitled power-hungry monster. You, Ghost, and whoever the hell else is helping you!” “Oh, Kirby. Those comments are beneath you. And you know better, too. We both do,” Marty said with deep resentment. Matt looked at Lawrence. Williamson had put in the APB, but Lawrence was wide-eyed at the sound of Marty’s voice. Matt shook his head. “Fuck you,” he said through gritted teeth.