Sick Characters Novels & Stories

All of it. Was he sick for imagining these things? There was no doubt about it. But that’s who he was. Rotten. Sick. Fucked-up. ***

’s. “Hello, Sick,” the man croaks in a hoarse, raspy voice. “Rick says the time for games is over and it’s time to end this.” “I’ve already killed half a dozen of you assholes,” I spit, drawing Borden from its sheath. “Bring it on, fuck-wit.” The F.U.C.K. just smiles and opens his mouth as if he were going to scream but he makes no sound. After a brief moment of confusion, my brain explodes and my entire body begins shaking in a violent seizure.

This side of Callahan, I found absolutely fefching. "Aww, don't be so moody, wormy. I just wanna play." "Sicko. You are a sicko and you're fucked in the head." I pursed my lips, a trace of displeasure running through me and puncturing my bubble of merriment. “And what makes me sick exactly? The fact that I find amusement in the things humans of this century do to entertain themselves? Or the fact that I like trying it out?" "Let me out of this goddamn handcuffs and I’ll tell you exactly why I think you’re sick."

However, this character was very difficult to cast. That was because not only was the character's appearance ugly, but the character was cunning and vicious, and at the same time, she also had a pitiful side. This character was once forcefully taken advantage of by a few men in the early stages of the story. After that, one of the men was sick, so she was also infected. She was originally a victim, but the victim chose to harm others. She wanted more innocent people to be harmed to make herself feel better.

"How dare you try to look like me! It's time I take that face back, don't you think?" I heard a sickening crack as my nose broke, the pain making my head spin. Their laughter echoed in my ears. "Of course it's fake! No real nose would break that easily. Hilarious!" "And she even copied Darcy's hairstyle! Cut it off!" "Right! She even tried to wear a white dress like Darcy. Let's take that off her!" I tried to fight back, but the three of them overwhelmed me, punching and kicking until I was dizzy and couldn't do anything.

He cocked a brow at me, and I sighed. "Ok, fine. It was a pretty funny movie." "But I think what's even funnier is how the writers manage to exaggerate everything. Like Tammie for one, how is she so nice, caring, smart, talented, and good natured. It's like she can do no wrong. And I don't think it's possible for anyone to be that perfect." I made air quotes at the last word.

I saw the bodies on the ground, but they were surrounded by a pulsing yellow aura that read [CRITICAL CHARACTER FAILURE]. "What is that?" I whispered, staring at the strange text overlaying the scenes I remembered. "That," she said, pointing at the red text, "is what happens when a character breaks script. That's what happens when the Luna—who is supposed to be soft and compliant and conflicted—turns into a sarcastic wild card who won't play her role. You've corrupted the file."

"I'm so sorry! I never should have lied to you, Brandon!" She suddenly went pale and hacked up a huge mouthful of blood onto the floor. She froze at the sight of the bright red blood on the floor, her gaze turning vacant while muttering repeatedly, "It's my retribution. It's my karma. I shouldn't have deceived you, Brandon…" Queenie was stunned. She didn't really want to deal with Hazel, but she still had someone take her down to the ER anyway, and the examination revealed a serious condition—Hazel had already contracted stomach cancer, which had reached the middle stage.

UPSTAIRS WITH ETHAN_ In Ethan’s room, the machine was beeping fast. Nurse: *"Ma’am, his BP is dropping."* Victoria: *"Give him the medicine."* The same poisoned medicine. Ethan’s face turned even paler. 8:00 PM. THIRST_ Olivia was dying of thirst. Throat dry. She whispered: *"Is anyone there? Water..."* Answer: Amelia’s laugh. *"Die of thirst."* Olivia closed her eyes. In her mind: Ethan. *"I won’t give up..."* She turned on the recorder. Whisper:

I sit on the couch and he sits beside me then shows me a contract on the coffee table. "I'll show you the contract but I need to tell you something before you decide anything," he says as he leans back against the couch. "Okay Master," I say and wait for him to start talking. "I'm only allowed to take you as my sub if I'm honest about myself. You can say no if you don't want me to be your Master when I've told you. I'm diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder. Which means I don't feel empathy or remorse for anyone. I see myself as the most important person in my life which is why Marcus doesn't think I can be a good Master," he says carefully. I frown as his words register.