Sweet Shackles Of Pain Novels & Stories

With that said, he grabbed a fork from the table and stabbed himself. Splurt! Sharp pain spread from his wound, and it hurt so much that Adam broke out in cold sweat, but he did not make a single sound because he knew that Ginnie had once gone through much greater pain, and this was what he deserved. Ginnie just watched emotionlessly as his face turned paler and blood soaked through his sleeve. In the end, she shut her eyes and said before she left, “Stop doing these pointless acts. The Ginnie you loved is dead.”

My wrists are raw and bleeding from the tight metal bindings that have kept me prisoner for days. As the first shackle snaps open, I wince at the sharp pain that shoots through my arms. But it's nothing compared to the relief I feel as the weight of the chains is lifted off me. I flex my fingers and try to soothe the aching in my wrists as he moves on to the next shackle. With each snapping chain, I feel a sense of liberation, a glimmer of hope that I might be able to escape this place. The pain of the shackles is replaced by a deep sense of gratitude towards Savio, who seems to understand my desire to escape.

“Justice Served—But At What Cost?” His face was everywhere, though none of the photos captured the monster he truly was. Just a well-dressed man in expensive suits, half-smiles that now made my skin crawl. They turned him into a symbol—of fear, of failure, of everything wrong with the system. Carter was still recovering. Three surgeries. Dozens of stitches. Metal in his bones and a lifetime’s worth of pain etched into the lines of his face. He didn’t complain. Not once. But I saw it—in the tightness of his jaw, in the way his hand trembled when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Rebecca froze where she was, hoping no one saw her walk in with the guy who had just alarmed everyone. After everyone settled again, she looked up at the crowed. Finally, Hunter thought. “Shackles.” Rebecca began. “Shackles and chains holding me down. They are tight and burn around my wrists. Oh God, they burn so much. I know where the keys are, but I can't reach them. These chains are short and prevent me from moving immoderately. Don't pity me, no. I'm used to the rough grinding sound they make when I tilt, I'm used to carrying their load on my wrists.”

Then it cuts off. I’m freezing, shaking so hard my teeth knock together, when someone stamps down hard on my ankle, snapping it cleanly in two. The pain forces a scream out of me like nothing I’ve ever made before, my whole body jerking around it. I whimper and try to get away, but I can’t. The pain and the cold crash over me together until I can barely think through either of them. I try to fight, but my hands are bound, stretched out on either side of me, a collar around my neck, the cold bite of silver digging into my skin. Every movement sends searing pain through my broken ankle where the shackle bites into it, and panic blooms so fast it leaves no room for anything else.

Annabelle’s POV I fell to the floor as my jelly-like quivering knees failed to hold me up, the tears which I had tried so hard to suppress, finally started to flow and this time I did not try to stop them. I let them drop naturally without thinking about how puffy my eyes would be or the impending headache that was going to come right after. Deeper than I could have ever dreamed, the pain was unbearable. Adrien’s terrible words kept playing in my head like a nasty reminder of how little I mattered to him.

"Something that should have happened a long time ago." I pulled against the shackles, testing them. The metal screamed in protest, and cracks spider-webbed across their surface. "I'm done being their victim. I'm done being weak. I'm done being afraid of what I am."

Jason, with magnificent boredom, cut a rope and toppled a whole line of torches in sequence so the ring went dark and the only light left was moon and the fire in my chest. I bit the last cord. It did not break like a story. It went like a tendon: a small give, then a ruin. Pain made the edges of me fizz. The shackles screamed because their purpose had been insulted by an unsanctioned edit. They tightened to strangle. The mark burned hot enough to feel like snow. The boy took a step toward me with a body that didn’t belong to him that second. He reached for the shackles, not the leash, and the bone in his hand dropped without permission.

A fresh crack of the whip and sharp pain across my arms, made me scream out. “Open your eyes, Whiskey” he demanded. I held them closed tighter and tried to shake my head, but it couldn’t move from under the shackle. “Last chance you little beast, open your fucking eyes and watch the screen” he roared, “No more, please” I pleaded, but my begging was only met with another whip across my arms. I tried to thrash in my seat. A desperate attempt to free myself, but all that accomplished was more pain in my restricted limbs.

Hopefully. I knew what I was about to do would hurt, but I had to get it over with. I pulled my hands up as far as I could behind my back and slammed them down with as much force as I could muster toward the floor. The pain was unbearable, and more tears made their way down my face. I knew that if I could just shimmy this shackle a little further up my arm I could grab the key. With my fingers touching the necklace I pulled it up and started with the lock. The lock was the easiest part of this whole ordeal. I dropped the shackles to the ground and looked at my wrists. They were covered in blood, which was to be expected. Some skin came off too.