Pretty Evil Novels & Stories

He stood up and walked to where he used to out his books, he took a small but old looking book and came back to where he was sitting, next to me. "I read it in this book , there is a certain theory which say that people might have ghost clones, these clones looks and dresses exactly like the original you and they can do anything you can do. Sometimes if you are lucky you can have a good clone but if you are unlucky you are likely to have a bad and evil clone , which means you are unlucky because yours is evil" he explained. His explanation shocked me , i have never heard such things and I've never believed in ghost theories.

The great Cassian Hale, who hated bullying because of his dead sister, had shown a tiny crack of pity. Good. That pity was exactly what I needed. I would use my pitiful life — the debts, the orphan story, the fragile girl act — to enter his world. Slowly. Carefully. I would get close to him. Make him trust me. Make him want me. Then I would destroy everything he loved. His wife, Hanna. His friends Darren and Hans. His perfect empire. Just like he destroyed my mother twenty years ago.

However, Claire suddenly widened her eyes and pointed at the woman assaulting me on screen, shouting, "Honey, I know who that person is now! It's not me!" She looked at me with loving eyes and said, "Honey, there's actually something I've never told you. Ever since my legs were paralyzed, my mental health has been unstable. I often dream that I can stand up, only to wake up and realize I'm still disabled. Later, I became so disoriented that I couldn't tell reality from dreams anymore." She continued, "I've seen a doctor about it, and she can testify for me! I must have been in a dissociative state, so I manifested a second personality. She's the one who hurt you, not me!"

Perfect employs the flawed logic of a math teacher who accepts homework that could have been copied off of each other, just as long as it shows the right equation. One clever guy cut and pasted an image of Salvador Dali’s melting clocks to represent the habit of unpunctuality (“Wait lang”) he had developed after he got addicted to computer games. Yssy pasted images of wine bottles, pills, a car crash and prison with an accompanying backstory that’s actually stolen from Lindsay Lohan’s life. Another guy (Nathan) was more truthful and posted a picture of an arguing man and woman.

Percival clawed his way to his current position, getting his hands dirty with all sorts of shady business along the way. He's not a good person - he'll do whatever it takes to get what he wants. He's petty and holds grudges like nobody's business. When he's out to get someone, he won't let up until they're totally destroyed. He's like a honey badger - even with blood pouring down his face, he'll keep fighting till his opponent's down for the count. He's full of aggression and isn't afraid of anyone.

Elijah shouted, staring at the remains of his laptop. "What right do you think you had to play me the way you did?" she retorted. "You’re not even that special," Elijah scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Neither are you—you’re not even that good in bed," Valeria shot back with a smirk. "Maybe it’s because I’m afraid to look at your ugly scar," Elijah snapped, and Valeria's eyes widened in shock. "What did you just say?" she asked, her voice low. "I said your scars are ugly. Now I get why you hide them from everyone. The great Valeria—beautiful on the outside, but a mess underneath. Let’s just call you ‘Valeria the Scar Girl.’"

Wolves collided with the shadows of those wings, thrown across the room as blood and instant death erupted. Vivica froze, eyes wide, her chest rising as she watched the devil himself descend upon them. The dark blue aura surrounding him pressed against her burning skin, sending a thrill along her heated skin, and desire, through her. All the rumors about him turned out to be true. He was the Devil. The real Devil. Finn stepped forward deliberately, each movement slow, lethal, deliberate. He stopped just in front of her, the room now deathly silent except for the beat of her pulsing heat.

“I hate how full I am. I hate that you didn’t even ask. I hate that my mum thinks you’re respectable.” His lips brushed my neck. “I love that she does.” I gasped. “Oh my God, you’re evil,” I hissed, my voice cracked and trembling and way too high-pitched to sound intimidating. “You’re not just evil. You’re like evil with a capital E. Like if Lucifer had a cock and a mansion and a fucking six-pack and ruined girls for fun while their mums were on speakerphone thinking he was a God-sent father figure..that’s you. “That’s who you are. You’re the reason I’m going to hell. You’re the reason I’m going to wake up tomorrow with a cross carved into my thighs and no hymen and a permanent tremor in my

“Organ harvesting, child trafficking, cocaine cupcakes, underage hit squads. Jesus. What’s next? Baby fight clubs?” Bain exhaled through a sharp grin. “Let’s get her back.” “And then,” Vulture said with a dark smile, “I’ll personally find Valeria, drag her liver out through her nose, and use it as a coin purse.” The baby made a sound suspiciously like a fart. “…Well said, my tiny accomplice.”

Vulnerable. His tactical vest was gone, ripped away in the previous skirmish. He stood in a torn black t-shirt and combat pants, his left arm—the Obsidian Hand—pulsing with a dangerous, unstable violet light. The cracks in the black crystal were spreading up past his elbow. "You're ugly, Val," Jack said. He rolled his shoulders. "You used to be the pretty one. What happened?" "Power," Valerius flexed, and the air rippled. "Evolution is rarely aesthetic, Jack. It is efficient."