Razorblade Tears Novels & Stories

The blade is serrated, and I notice three notches missing as I bend down closer to look at it. “Fucking shit.” I mutter. “What?” a healer asks. “Serrated. And it’s damaged.” My heart sinks, thinking there may be loose silver pieces lingering in his now gushing neck wound. He takes his gloved hand and grabs the blade, moving closer to the light to get a better look at it.

I groaned but didn't pull away. Instead, I let the blade sear deep into my palm, tearing down my skin, and causing blood to pour out like a stream. “What… what are you doing?” She stuttered, barely holding onto the handle as it only drove the knife farther into my palm. I shut my eyes and moaned a deep throaty groan. The pain spread all over, messing with my mind. Her soft whimper made it oddly satisfying. She sniffled and released shaky breath from her pouted lips. Her eyes blinked back tears, all to not run off in fear.

Through the rearview mirror, her figure grew smaller and smaller. At first, she hurried away in quick little steps. Then she broke into a run, her high heels striking the pavement faster and faster. Only then did my composure finally shatter. Covering my face, I let the tears spill through my fingers. The direction Delilah was running was the exact opposite of the road that led home. The path that was supposed to lead us to happiness had ultimately fallen apart because of betrayal.

Something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in so long. I smiled weakly and reached up, pressing my palm against the side of his face. "I’m okay," I whispered. He gave me a tight smile back, one that barely reached his eyes. He leaned forward like he wanted to rest his forehead against mine, but then I felt it. Pain. A sharp, searing pain in my stomach. I gasped. Kieran’s eyes widened, confused at first. Then I saw it—the horror. I looked down. A knife. There was a knife in my stomach. I didn’t even feel it go in, not at first. But now... I couldn’t breathe. My mouth opened in shock, and blood bubbled at the corners of my lips.

Every eye in the room shifts to the screen. A woman appears, half-hidden by curtains. She looks around, cautious, then reaches for the dress on display. My breath catches as she begins to tear at it. Fabric rips under her hands, deliberate and brutal. Gasps erupt across the hall. “What is that?” “Who would do something like this?” “Oh no…” The cruelty of the video unfolds without mercy. The room explodes into chaos. Shocked voices overlap, disbelief buzzing through the air. Andrea grips my arm, his voice rising.

Alvar Mate's tears are the sharpest weapon, piercing my heart easily. I’ve been sitting in silence in my study for an hour, but the pain won’t stop. It’s like my chest is in a vice, squeezing tighter by the minute. Blade bares his teeth, mocking me. ‘It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if you’d just marked her as I said. I don’t know what you’re thinking, being so hesitant. Like a coward.’ ‘I want more than just possessing her. I want her heart.’ I snap back. I don’t want to force Rylee to do anything—except when it comes to leaving me.

My eyes remained fixed on the floor as she patted my back. “I don’t have all day. Are you going to accept Raphael or pay him back?” How could I pay for all of this if I didn’t accept? My vision blurred as a single tear fell onto my lap. “This is not the time to cry,” she snapped. “You better speak before I throw you out of my room,” she suddenly became impatient.

Everything happened so fast that Vega could not even recall anything at the moment. "Please do not die on me, please, Reynold." Reynold was in so much pain as he was shot in four different places on his back. Sandy helped her get him into the house, but she couldn't stop panicking as Reynold's body became hot. "Sandy, why isn't he healing yet?" She asked worriedly. Her friend observed Reynold's injury since he was lying on his back, and she found out the weapon was coated with silver and wolf's bane.

Many times his eyes darted to the edge of the path he was passing. The movement in the thickets brought Orda to a halt again, his horse grunting and neighing softly. Orda drew the double-edged ax he threw onto his back. The handle of the object was rather long and silvery in color. Each blade bears a sign of a roaring tiger. “Whoever you are, come out,” Orda said, his voice was firm yet still. Even so, a drop of sweat seemed to be dripping down his forehead.

The Ritual That Should Not Exist Lyra’s POV The blade came down, pain tore through my arm, it was sharp and hot and then screamed. The sound broke out of me before I could stop it, blood spilled fast and it ran down my skin. Drips from my fingers fell to the ground, right into the marks. I watched it and I could not look away. The lines drank it and they darkened first and then they glowed faintly and then brighter. “No… no…”