Path Of Pain Novels & Stories

Derrick blocked my carriage and asked in a pleading voice, "Talia, can we talk?" I stepped down and looked at the man who had once brought me so much pain. I hadn't taken a close look at him during the ceremony, only noticing his tattered clothing. But now, seeing him up close, I realized how much he had aged. He was no longer the handsome man he once was. "If you have something to say, say it quickly. I'm busy." My cold response made him flinch, but he quickly masked it, replacing his expression with a soft, affectionate gaze.

“Help!” Johan uttered faintly, holding out an arm as he gasped for air. His face burned red with pain, veins like long straws could be seen around his neck. The poison had begun its work. Ercan took a step forward, then turned to Johan, whose head fell to the side as he gave up the ghost.

I couldn't even remember how Julia got hurt. I never did anything to her. Why didn't he believe me? I was willing to leave him on my own accord—I wasn't that pathetic. I wanted him to look at me. The hollow rumbling of the hospital bed's wheels echoed down the hallway. The sound hurt my ears. He never looked back. With a long beep, my heart monitor flatlined. My soul began to rise from my body. I saw a nurse calling for the on-duty doctor while rushing toward me with a crash cart. I felt a little guilty,

“You’re injured. You’re tired.” Arden’s legs shook violently. His breathing became uneven. He wanted to stop. He wanted to sit down. But then Ryder’s face flashed in his mind. Arden clenched his teeth. “No,” he whispered. He pushed himself harder. He turned another corner and finally saw an exit sign and the glass doors were ahead. Hope rushed through him. He stumbled forward, nearly falling as another wave of pain hit him. His hand slipped on the wall, leaving a smear of blood. Arden reached the doors and pushed them open.

Gasping for breath, I curled into myself, the intense pain engulfing every inch of my body like a merciless wildfire. "What the heck—? Ugh!" I groaned, my voice strained with the pain that gripped me. My muscles tensed, my skin prickling as if with needles. The torment was beyond anything I had ever experienced. I tried to focus on anything but the searing pain, thinking back to Rhea’s memories to find the origins of this pain. But I failed. I couldn't even think. The pain was too much! 'What's happening?' I wondered, concern tingeing my thoughts. 'Is this what Rhea experience everyday? Is she having a stroke?'

"Luke, there's something else you need to know. "The day I wheeled Natalie into the operating room, she was shaking uncontrollably. She had bitten her tongue so hard that it was a bloody mess. He paused, then hesitantly continued, "I reviewed her medical report today. Turns out, she has an abnormally high sensitivity to pain." Luke stiffened. "She must have heard our conversation that day," Harvey finished. Luke's eyes were filled with despair and dread, his entire body frozen as if his blood had turned to ice.

The night was gentle, with the lights shining brightly. I knew, at that moment, that my life was finally on its rightful track, free from lies and suffering; just the courage and strength to grow toward the light, wherever it led me.

I cried out as the pain blind me, causing me to fold into myself. Just as the pain reached a fever pitch, a presence enveloped me, like a storm gathering strength. It surged through me, powerful and undeniable, awakening something deep within. A tug in my chest pulled me in three different directions, each path radiating a distinct energy. It was a call I couldn’t ignore, beckoning me toward an unknown destiny. In that moment, everything shifted. The pain receded, replaced by an exhilarating clarity. I felt myself expand, my senses sharpening, as if the world itself was alive.

My small, pale hands were entirely swallowed by his, his fingers thick and calloused, his skin burning hot despite the freezing rain that had soaked his clothes. I picked up a bottle of medical-grade antiseptic spray, my heart doing a slow, heavy thud against my ribs as I looked at the damage. The skin across his primary knuckles was entirely shredded, caked with gray gravel and dark, clotted blood from where he had repeatedly slammed his fist into something solid. "This is going to sting," I warned softly, lifting my eyes to meet his. "Pain is an irrelevant data point, Phoebe," he muttered, his voice flat, though his gaze remained locked onto my mouth. "It is merely an electrical signal tra