Novel & Cerita Rising Out Of Hatred

“Son-son how many times do I have to teach you? Hatred is more powerful than love. Love is a distraction while hatred makes one stronger.” “What if I've had enough of hatred? I want a distraction instead then.” I answered him bodly. Ready for any reply or come back he might have. He was about to reply but stopped himself as the aunt and niece made their way to us. Gods! Let this day end!

The notion that her hatred was just a covering over an uncontrollable need was intolerable. "No, I don’t," she hissed, her composure slipping. The admission felt like a betrayal, voicing aloud what she'd fought to ignore. She couldn't stomach the idea that her hatred was a mere curtain, veiling a desire she couldn’t control. "Child, hate is supposed to repel, not draw you into a lover's arms," he observed, calm as the eye of a storm. "Before breakfast, you were entwined. Does that sound like repulsion to you?"

I said, rubbing my chin. I’m never going to let him take what’s mine, he never liked father, and father never liked him, always trying to be alone and spiteful, I hated that, besides he pushed me off a railing when we were little, I’m not going to let him have his cake and still eat it. I picked up my phone to dial a number “It’s time I did things my way” I muttered, dialing. “Hey hot stuff” I heard her call over the phone, I rolled my eyes, she’s only attracted to the wealthy, just the type I’m looking for.

Present Valerie stood frozen, gazing through the hospital room's glass window, witnessing Dominic's army surrounding the building. Once intended to protect her, their presence now suffocated her. The irony twisted in her chest like a knife. She yearned to shatter the glass, escape the toxic world Dominic constructed around her. Valerie's priorities shifted; self-preservation eclipsed loyalty. Tears pricked her eyes as desperation consumed her. A solitary tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. Valerie's thoughts darkened, hatred simmering against Dominic. His grip choked her, draining life's vibrancy.

But from today, I don’t give a fuck about any of them. I would die in fourteen days time, but I would die knowing that I didn’t give any of these fuckers the satisfaction they were craving. Today, I embrace hatred over love. Today, I choose chaos over peace. Today, I choose hate. ** [ ~ Day Eight ~ ]

My mom lunged forward to stop him while crying out, "That's the only remaining photo I have of Cori! Give it back to me! Give it back!" Her cries of anguish fell on deaf ears. Evan tore my photo to pieces ruthlessly. My mom sobbed inconsolably as she clutched the torn pieces to her chest. This wasn't enough to quell Evan's rage. His bloodshot eyes soon landed on my desk, and he was ready to cause more damage. However, my mom shoved him away like a madwoman. Trembling all over, she shouted at Evan hysterically, "Don't touch Cori's things! You're on the same side as those who killed her! You all caused my daughter's death!"

Too different to be tagged as normal. This wasn't just anger, neither was it frustration. It was pure violent, murderous hatred. Hatred for Rowan, batred for his games, batred for what he did to Mira, hatred for ripping my life apart. And hatred for Darius, for looking at me like I was nothing. For letting me walk away. The moment that hatred stabbed through me, something else moved. No, it bloomed. Bloomed like a forbidden plant that had spread its roots so deep it was impossible to get it out without killing me in the process.

That’s good for me. I don’t mean that in any noble sense, I mean it in calculus. People who hate are predictable. Hate simplifies motive; it sharpens action and dulls strategy. Where professionals plan three moves ahead, furious amateurs charge blind. They mistake heat for planning; they mistake impulse for courage. Cassandra’s hatred makes her an asset if I can steer it.

Other times, there was heat in his gaze, a look that came across as raw and unfiltered. Cleo mentioned that he had his own demons to deal with. Would it be too much to ask if he went ahead and did that, while leaving me out of it? I couldn’t figure out why he hated me so much or why he insisted on this rouse. There had to be a reason for it, right? Not that it was an excuse or anything. Nobody deserved the treatment that he dished out. Did he know that I was a silver wolf? I had yet to let Thea run free, but it was possible that he learned it from my father.

And somewhere in that awful silence, with my cheek wet against the floor and my body emptied out by rage, one thought stayed alive longer than all the others. Hatred. Pure, clean, lucid hatred. For Sarah, the devil called my sister.