Ppg Angry Novels & Stories

She dragged her by her hair angrily and slap her which makes one side of her lips burst. “When I ask you a question, you answer immediately bitch” she said angrily as Roseanne nods in tears as she held her cheeks in pain. “I can’t wait to see what your own death will be like” Angie said as she smirks and walk away to her room with Soberth behind her.

Belle was beside her, laughing softly like this was all some kind of joke. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I could feel the anger rising inside me. My blood boiled to the highest point and I could feel my wolf snap in it's cage. “You—” My voice came out in a harsh whisper. “You just ruined everything.” Angie shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Oops,” she said in a sarcastic tone“Guess you’ll have to start all over. Oh well.” I stood up slowly, my fists clenching by my sides. “Apologize,” I demanded “Now.”

"Do we have to do this? Can't we talk calmly?" Angela sneered, "I'm only in peace with the person I like. I'm sorry that you're the person I don't like, but you prefer to appear in front of me. You're in a really bad mood. I'm so calm that I didn't scold you in a very bad mood."

I scream as I angrily throw the glass I was holding in my hand and its shattered pieces spread across the floor. I can feel anger rise in me as my eyes turn yellow and my fingers partially transform into paws. I walk over to the sitting area where I lift up the couches and angrily throw them against the wall, caring less about the ruckus I’m causing in the living room. I walk over to the flat screen TV and angrily push it down from the cupboard. A few servants rush into the living room but none of them has the courage to approach or try to stop me. They very well know what they’ll be getting themselves into if they attempt to do that. I scream in fury as I pick up the glass table at the

Angela Loud angry voices woke me up. Jumping off the bed, I stared at the door unblinkingly as if expecting the owners of the angry voices to barge into my room. They did. The door opened with a loud noise, the hinges crying out. Aaron was the first to stomp into the room in anger. I’d never seen him this angry ever since I was brought here which made me almost ask him what the problem was.

“You fucking daughter of a stripper! You’ll see what I do to you!” Her eyes blaze with fury, her face contorted in a mask of rage. The venom in her voice is evident, each word dripping with hatred. I can see the veins in her neck bulging, her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles turn white. She is trembling with anger, barely able to contain herself. I chuckle, amazed at her audacity, her blatant disregard for the situation she's in. Her anger only fuels my resolve, strengthening my determination to see this through.

Anger erupts in my chest like an angry volcano. Without thinking, I stomp in his direction, making sure to go close enough to feel his breath hitch. “How dare you keep us here for hours without any form of explanation or apology, you incompetent street urchin?! Is this how a multi-billion dollar establishment operates! I’ll make sure your boss terminates your appointment today, just wait and watch.” He doesn’t seem moved by my angry outburst. He doesn’t so much as blink. His expression remains stoic, disdainful. “I am not obligated to apologize to you, Miss Montessori. I would suggest that you watch your tone —“

At our class reunion, my so-called best friend, Shannon Drew, pulled out a box stuffed with folded notes. A line was taped across the top— [Draw one of Mia Martinez's hopeless-romantic quotes.] The room burst out laughing. Someone pulled a love letter I'd written to Damien Byford senior year. "Damien smiled at me today. I want to give him all my tomorrows, too." Someone else grabbed one from college. "It's okay if he doesn't text back. He'll think of me when he's not busy." Damien had never replied to a single letter. I'd always figured he'd tossed them years ago. Then Shannon drew letter No. 99. Leaning against Damien, she laughed as she read, "If you ever decide you don't want m

"This morning, I borrowed some dog pee from the neighbour. She was really generous. I poured a little portion in your coffee to add some flavour. Thought you'd like it." "The neighbour's dog?!" I bark. "That dirty disgusting dog!" "I think you just described yourself." "You are insane! You are crazy! You need to see a fùcking therapist! You have issues! You are sick in the head!" "You have a lot of anger sitting on your chest and it's ugly." She pauses and demonstrates. "Breath in. Breath out. Let go of that anger. Do it again. Breath in..." "I'm angry because you put the urine of a fùcking dog in my coffee!!!"

London Pissed? No, no, no, no. Angry? Ha! Don't play with me. I gripped the edge of the mahogany table, grounding my teeth so tightly that I wouldn't have been surprised if one broke out due to the force. My fingers dug into the table, ripping through its well-refined wood in seconds.