Smile Behind The Pain Novels & Stories

Painful, expensive resistance. “Yes,” Louelita said. Talia lowered her eyes. “She says it when they want me faster.” No one moved. Ezra’s expression emptied completely. Omar stared at the floor. Sister Maria closed her eyes and crossed herself, not from habit this time, but because shame had finally reached somewhere deeper than procedure. Louelita felt the cold room, the soap, the lower stairs, and the removed cards braid themselves into one brutal truth. The phrase had never been comfort.

"Babe, I went through hell to find this pain-transfer system. It's the only way to save Maia. I'm asking you to make this sacrifice." The familiar voice was right in my ear. Bruno Howell was staring at me with loving eyes, waiting for me to agree. Looking at this two-faced man, I felt my teeth itch with hatred.

At first she thought he was bluffing until he brought the iron close to her skin and held it even tighter. "Jude please I am begging you in God's name... Please don't do that." She knelt down and rubbed her sweaty palms together, but he didn't listen to her. He however pushed the silver plated flat end on her skin and supported it with his other hand. The tears she cried that day were fresh. Quite different from the others she had gotten used to. The excruciating pain from the heat of the pressing iron on the back of her hand sent weakening signals to her spinal cord. She kicked her legs one against the other, but he wouldn't stop. She screamed until Junior came running down and threw multip

Having no luck reaching the bottle, she pulled the little footstool from beneath the marble counter of the cellarette before climbing on top of it. “You don't need to be scared. We have all had painful pasts, some more than others and we each have different ways of reacting to certain things. Some resort to suicide, some reach out to people immediately while others just prefer the silence. They prefer to endure the torture, too scared to say anything. They smile through the pain, through the agony. They're hurting so much inside but they have no choice but to put on a brave stance in dire need to block out the outside world,” her voice grew softer with each word until they were just a stone

I no longer asked myself if it had been worth it. That question belonged to people who feared loss. I had already paid. And what remained was something no one could take. Standing at my window that night, the city glowing beneath me, I felt no pull backward. Only forward. Only present. Only mine. I raised my glass—not in celebration, but acknowledgment. This was what remained when the smoke cleared: Clarity. Authorship. Peace without submission. And the quiet certainty that pain, when faced fully, does not define you. It sharpens you.

"Marcus, you're unbelievable! I never want to see you again!" I got into my car crying and drove away. I went to a bar alone, pouring bottle after bottle down my throat while my tears kept flowing. When I was nearly unconscious from drinking, Henry came to find me. "Why did you drink so much?" I clung to his arm, sobbing uncontrollably. "I've already decided to give up, so why does it still hurt so much!" He gently stroked my hair and said, "Georgina, stop looking back. Look forward—maybe happiness is waiting for you there."

How could he possibly still hold any feelings toward me? I slowly lowered my head and reached for the food on the ground, pitifully eating like a disgraced mutt. Suddenly, Emily's voice, underlined with malice, rang in my ears, "Why aren't you eating the meat, Marina? I'm sure you need the nutrition, right?" Numbly, I placed the meat into my mouth. My sense of taste had long since been dulled from all the pain I suffered, so all I could feel was that the meat was slightly different from anything I'd ever eaten before.

“I asked Doctor Mark. He said we can come in whenever we want, but the result will be out in a week or thereabouts.” “Then we better get going. Call Rachel and have her come over. I think Amber would appreciate some company.” I instructed and left the office to change into something better. I always knew it. My life had never been this beautiful, and I’d never been this happy with a woman. I knew it would never last. Something must disrupt these beautiful moments for me. Maybe I’m not meant to be happy. So whenever happiness roars its beautiful head up in my life, bitterness and pain spring up immediately to overshadow it.

He was standing by the door, his shoulders slouched in exhaustion, his eyes shadowed. Then he smiled. But it wasn’t the smile I wanted to see. God help me—I pray I never see it on his face ever again. It shattered me. It was the kind of smile people wear when the pain has stayed so long, it starts to harden into something permanent. “Surprised to see how much of a mess you made every aspect of my life become?” he asked. I didn’t answer. My throat was tight. I didn’t know what I could say that wouldn’t sound insulting. Or worse—pathetic.

People who live in hell, it is not that they do not hurt, but they have just lost the qualification of shouting pain. Jane Mo Bai, in Jane Tong's heart, deeply inserted another knife. And she, in the elevator's door, the moment it reopened, raised her head, looked into the mirror in the elevator, raised her fingers, on her face, pulled out a smile, sniffled, put away all the hurt, tilted her head to cheer up, and said to herself, "There's still half a million dollars of huge debt."