Novel & Cerita Tears Of The Saints By Leeland

Doing nothing. My chest burns, my eyes sting. Before I know it, tears slide hot down my face. I wipe them away quickly, angry at myself, at my weakness, but I can’t look away. I don’t even understand why it hurts this much. The woman doesn’t stop. The girl curls smaller on the ground, and the world stands still around her suffering. My feet begin to move, dragging toward her, as if some invisible thread is pulling me. Then I hear it. A boy’s cry, raw and desperate. “Lila!”

I stood there, unable to respond as the cool air bit against my bare skin. Salvatore’s men were in the back but I could feel their eyes burning into me. No doubt they looked on in utter mockery of my humiliation. My jaw tightened. I wanted to scream, to fight, to do something—but all I could do was stand there, chest heaving, while the devil loomed over me. He didn’t stop until my shirt was hanging in tatters on my shoulders. Even then, he pulled the remains off, leaving me bare and vulnerable. I fought the tears that threatened to spill over, putting my hands on my chest like they could shield me from this desecration.

"Ismael Kiplimo!" He witnessed a shocked frightened look in her eyes. A shock of realization. Tears welled up in her eyes. It was obvious she was going to cry. She shrank down the couch and lowered her eyes covering them with a leso and broke into tears. She shamelessly cried like a little kid. Mary crossed over to comfort her. "Don't cry sis. It is alright."

Surrendering. My tears bursted, and I let it stream down my face. I guess it's not that greedy if I let Dad see the real me. The other side of me that I've been hiding for years. I am weak, wreck and broken. My chest was hurting and all I could do was cry and cry until my eyes hurt and my heart bleeds. It was the only thing that strengthened me. It's where I hope for the pain to subside. L "I saw him. I saw him this morning, princess. I saw him in your house with another woman. L I wanted to surprise you. But—Fuck!"

I did what he said, even though my eyes were already wet with tears. “That’s it, you’re still great.” I seem to have encountered the demon in the person of Ezekiel Bellevera, aka Mister Huge.

The Council's leash was not just binding me. It was resonating with the offerings. And I was the only one who knew that the Saintess's tears were not holy water. They were the solvent that dissolved the narrative's last resistance, the chemical that turned doubt into devotion, that transformed a school of frightened students into an army of true believers who would kill on command and call it purification.

There were also photos of them in bed together and… torn limbs. I immediately recognized the woman in the photos—she was none other than my best friend, Joey. The explicit and gory photos made my vision go white. I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to stop myself from puking. "You… You killed Joey?" I stammered. "Killed her?" Liam was still smiling. "I would much prefer it if you called it 'getting inspiration.'" My goosebumps rose when I looked into his eyes. They were cold and emotionless.

Time had unraveled here. Leya sat on the bed and wrapped herself around her waist with arms like she could fold back in on herself. Her dress clung to her, sticky, wet, sticky, heavy with shame, sour cream, and wine crust on her. Trapped in damp cheeks, all pounded up together in black clods where tears dried and began again. Her eyes were blank and empty, staring at the groundboards as if they could. Perhaps groan open and consume her. Her breast was rising and falling in small tortured gasps, each one a fight.

She could do nothing but surrender to the overwhelming flood of tears, her cries echoing through the empty corridor as a poignant testament to the regret and sorrow consuming her soul. She was still drowning in the pool of her tears when she heard footstep behind her, she turned as saw that it was Bree. Leanda wiped her tears, “What do you want?” She sniffled. Bree laughed, “Don’t worry, I will keep your dirty secret,” she chuckled. “W…what do you mean?” Leanda stuttered. Bree closed the gap between them, “The dirty secret between you and Lyall!”

She thrashed against Magda’s steadying hands, her eyes wide and unfocused, darting around a room she no longer seemed to recognize. "I have to open it!" Leela cried, her voice cracking with a high-pitched desperation. Her gaze was locked on the distant, invisible horizon. "I can feel the valley crying, Magda! It’s not just dead—it’s hungry. It’s like a hole has been ripped in the fabric of the world, and it’s screaming for me. If I don't fill it with the light, it’s going to keep pulling until it swallows Fennigan’s soul whole! He’s right on the edge, I can feel him slipping!"