Novelas y relatos de Relentless

I compliment her and she doesn't say a word which means she's flushing. We don't talk much and say good night before we go to sleep. Since I'm in Zurich we started calling each other every night before we sleep. Ashley said she became those nightmares since she's back at home. She sees always the same. Some women wearing all black in a dark room and telling her to go away from 'him'. She still doesn't know who this women is or she means. I thought of a ritual with her to forget her dream and now it became something important. It really helps her to forget about the nightmares and it even helps me to not miss her that much.

“So, Raphael, what’s it going to be?” George leaned forward, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “Are you going to get the help you need, or should I go ahead and file a restraining order? You know it’s protocol, bud.” Raphael’s eyes were hollow, remnants of the torment he had endured since losing his wife and daughter. The mention of a restraining order hit him like a punch to the gut. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he replied, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ll go to rehab. I’ll do anything to make things right with Marianne and Rose.”

I bawled annoyed of what he said. "I don't." "Stop lying Brigor! You needed someone! You need someone to help you! You're just scared to admit it since you don't want people to think that you're weak!" "I've been living alone for thirteen years now without the help of someone." "Stop lying! Someone helped you grow! Stop being denial!"

Dorothy said, trembling. "Hurry up, you lazy girls," the mother shouted from the other side of the room. Sophia was so weak she could barely walk; her body would collapse at any moment. She placed the wood in the fireplace and struggled not to faint over the fire. “You are slow and undisciplined.” Dorothy did not move. She remained still with the wood in her arms and her hungry eyes fixed on the table. No matter how much her brain ordered the muscles in her legs to move, she remained paralyzed.

“If anyone can get through something like this, it is Melinda. You might not know this, but she is very strong and persistent when it comes to save her loved ones. She even went through three rejections and lost her wolf to break the curse and keep the three of you alive. Honestly, I was completely against it and I tried to stop her several times, but she was obstinate.” Drawing in a deep breath, she continued, “What I am trying to say is that, if Melinda has made up her mind to do something, she will endure till the end.” “It is precisely because she is so persistent that I am worried,” My voice grew thick with emotions. “God knows what she might end up doing.”

Red hung up and blocked Clayton's number. Red resumed the paper work on his desk and made a resignation letter. Clayton drove back to his office and called Constantine. "Search for Emerald in each hotel in Westfield," Clayton said as soon as he saw Constantine. Constantine shook his head. Clayton who was always calm even when the whole world was falling down was now frantic. "Did you hear me?" Clayton snarled when Constantine wasn't moving. "Can you calm down? It isn't like you. How can you solve this mess if you go around like a headless chicken?"

The struggle etched across Sebastian's face painted a vivid picture of the physical and mental exhaustion that accompanied such an arduous feat. As Sebastian pushed through the resistance, muscles trembling with exertion, the air crackled with the shared energy of the room. Each push-up became a testament to resilience, a metaphorical ascent against the weight of fatigue and self-imposed limits. Levi's encouragement served as both a catalyst and a reminder of the camaraderie that fueled their shared pursuit of physical excellence.

“Please, you must ask them to stop the punishment, it’s outrageous and severe.” His gaze met mine, with a very steady and unmoved expression, the coldness in his gaze sent shivers down my spine. “I cannot stop the punishment, Cara, “ he replied calmly, without any compassion in his voice. “the punishment will proceed as planned. It is to maintain order and discipline.” His words carrying lots of weight and I was struck with disbelief as to how he was indifferent to the suffering of others. Everything he had done, I had believed there was goodness in him, a kindness that matched his imposing presence. But now, my doubts became clear he was actually devoid of compassion.

Why is it hurting? I feel my chest tighten. How can it be more tight when it should be emptier because of the vacancy in my heart? Why does the tears keep on coming? How can there still be any of it left? Hasn't I cried enough? I will never be enough, won't I? ****

The stretch is brutal and more than I want, more than I expect, more than I can stand, more than I can be. The low hum of it, the low and deep hum of the change, of the change and the light and the heat and the heat fills me, fills me and presses against the walls of my life, against the walls of my mind, against the walls of my humanity, of my humanity and of my sanity, of my sanity and my resolve. It presses and breaks and leaves more than I can hold, more than I can hold back, more than I can hold inside, inside. It is unbearable, unbearable and fast and wild, and it is raw and uncontrollable.