Novel & Cerita Touch Starved Characters

He had been starving since they raided the warehouse and had not gotten the chance to get anything to eat. Entering the room he noticed that Daylen was awake and from the looks of things. He did not seem to be feeling well. He took steady strides to the bed and gently sat beside Daylen. "Are you hungry?" Syvan inquired him. Daylen stared at the bowl of porridge. His mouth watered at the mare thought of the food going into his mouth. He had not seen or tasted food in a long time. The last time he fed, he ate some leftovers the monster threw on the floor. For as long as he could remember all the food that he had been served was on the floor.

I was so hungry I saw stars. Everything had double vision. The book of 20-dollar scratch cards Mom gave me felt like a countdown to my death. Only one card remained. The 30 dollars I had won before this, even though I had been incredibly frugal, eating nothing but plain bread and canned soup for every meal, had lasted two weeks at most. My stomach felt like an invisible hand was squeezing it tight, cramping with pain. So I clung to one last shred of hope and called Mom.

It suggested that survival is overrated when the alternative feels like that. I didn’t argue. I let it have the movie. When it ended, I stayed where I was and did not give it the sequel. At some point, hours turned elastic. I dozed and woke without sleep between. When I startled, it was because she spoke—soft, through three floors, to a ceiling that wasn’t me. Goodnight… try not to starve. Starving is a profession where I come from. We make a virtue of it and call it restraint. We make a ritual of it and call it prayer. We make a wound of it and call it love.

The things included my tattered, patched-up old coat, the dusty work pants Dad wore for his act, the ledger of fabricated debts, and the tires of the beat-up bicycle that made sounds louder than the broken bell. Then, they lit everything on fire. Flames leaped up at once, greedily devouring these props all filled with nothing but lies. Mom sobbed as she watched the items burn. "There are no creditors. There's no 5,000,000-dollar debt. We have so much money that we don't even know what to do with it… You don't have to collect bottles or save up on electricity anymore…" Her hands trembled as she pulled out a black card from her bag, a symbol of unlimited wealth. She wanted to throw the card in

She’d just leaked quietly all morning, anger-silent tears, determined not to shake the bed. “Tell me again,” Draven said without looking up. Kade blinked. “Which part.” “Their terms,” Draven said softly. Kade knew exactly what he meant. He straightened a little. “Marla, Cassia, Tomas, Reed. None have eaten in two days. No water in two. They’re weak. Tomas is shaking. Reed’s jaw is infected or close. Cassia hasn’t stopped shaking. Marla’s quiet.” Draven’s lip curled at that last part.

I closed my eyes, trembling as tears escaped and fell into the food. "Happy birthday, Eleanor Shaw," I whispered to myself. "Keep moving forward—onward forever. Even if no one loves you, there's still light at the end of the tunnel. As Jeffrey said, you have enjoyed over 20 wonderful years of wealth and privilege. You've had it good." Just like that, I repeated words of comfort to myself as I wiped away my tears. I moved all my belongings that I had sorted out over the past two weeks in the living room.

"I don’t want… war." Mara capped the salve jar, her expression infinitely sad. "None of the little folk ever do, do they? But the choices of Alphas… they ripple out. They drown the small things." She placed the jar back in her basket. "Try the broth, Novah. Please. Shock’s a hungry beast. It eats you from the inside if you don’t feed the body. Strength you’ll be needing, I fear, ghost or not."

A Dark Fantasy Romance Unholy Hunger ✦ Some loves are not forbidden by men. They are forbidden by gods. •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• Before Time Learned to Count •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × ••••••

I found Zevarion, back pressed against an old tree. He looked up and smiled faintly when he saw me. That smile, the only warmth I trusted anymore. I handed him the food and sat beside him, the silence between us as comfortable as the shadows. “These people are beyond saving,” I muttered. “You saw what they did when given food, they turned into animals.” Zevarion unwrapped the meat slowly, chewing as he listened. “That’s what happens when people are starved for too long,” he said softly. “It’s instinct, survival. When you take everything from someone, all that’s left is the will to fight for scraps. And that’s exactly what Xareth wants.”

Scarlett sat slumped on the filthy straw pallet, back against the cold stone wall, knees drawn to her chest, silver hair matted and tangled from days without care. Exhaustion had settled into her bones like damp rot, weighing on her like chains heavier than the iron cuffs around her wrists. Hunger was a constant, twisting ache in her stomach, coming in relentless waves—sharp enough to keep her awake, dull enough to make every movement feel impossible, twisting, familiar now after a day and a half of almost nothing, and already her body felt foreign, weak, hollow.