Ugly Cry Books Novels & Stories

Laughing, I took my phone out, snapped several photos of her, and uploaded them to my social media account. "Ma'am, I think it's pretty pathetic of you to be eating in someone else's apartment that you've been hogging. Since you're acting like such a greedy pig, I might as well turn this place into a pigsty for you!" Anna's mother trembled with rage. Even the bits of chicken that clung to her hair were shaking, making her look even more amusing. "Harrison, kick this insane woman out of the apartment right away!" However, Harrison ignored her furious cries and took my hand placatingly.

Though I'm confuse, I casually said, “This wondrous of a place usually empty. People forgot to pay a visit or to even got themselves immerse to the world that this wondrous of a place offer them with sincerity. I thought you are highly affected by such a failure of showing gratitude to literature coming from them?” His eyes couldn't actually intimidating but there's a melancholy that I didn't expected to seen. My statement just now goes awakwardly, and I chuckled as that to forgot my place on this unknown and strange of a place. I cough and turn my head to the shelf that offer a variety of book that looks bloody yet comforting. “Oh,” I gasped, not able to hide my awed. “That's a classic...”

She poured herself another glass of cheap red, already on her third, and dropped onto the couch in her pencil skirt and blouse, buttons half undone. The city lights through the rain-streaked windows. Her laptop was still open on the coffee table, case files glowing like accusatory little rectangles. She should sleep. Instead she reached for the dusty old book she’d bought on a drunken whim two years ago at that weird occult shop downtown. *Daemonologie for the Modern Woman.* Stupid. But tonight it felt like the right kind of stupid. She flipped it open, scanned a page at random, and slurred the words under her breath. Latin? Probably, didn’t matter.

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. And I cried. I cried without dignity or control without fear. The kind of crying that starts somewhere deep and biological and works its way out through your chest whether you want it to or not. The kind that sounds ugly. The type that tastes like salt and regret and too much whiskey but you're not quite drunk.

she cried out, her voice breaking with desperation. Jay pulled her hair back roughly, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Cum for us then, baby. Show us how good that pretty pussy can squirt.” With Liam’s fingers curling deep inside her, stroking her spot perfectly while his tongue flicked her swollen clit, Sasha shattered. Her scream echoed through the studio as her orgasm ripped through her, her legs spasming, squirting all over Liam’s face. “Goddamn,” Liam growled, licking her juices off his lips. “This pussy is fucking perfect.”

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He unclasped the box, revealing some old books inside. The top novel caught his attention, its dog-eared pages and worn texture hinting at its age. The front cover was missing, but as he flipped through the pages, he found what could possibly be the title written in pen at the back: "Inner beauty and Otter's flaws." This title seemed poignant, considering Arc's past. His mom had abandoned him when he was a child, leaving unanswered questions and unresolved emotions. Arc walked in, and Chelsea looked up and saw his somber expression which was a stark contrast to his nervous energy. "What are you doing?" The question was laced with curiosity and accusation.

Nervous about facing Nina in case she noticed her tear-stained state, Isabel sought solace in the confines of her room. With determination to appear strong, Isabel made her way directly to the shower, hoping to wash away any traces of her earlier tears. However, her resolve crumbled, and the water seemed unable to quell the emotional storm within her. Closing her eyes only brought back vivid images of Mason's happiness with the other girl, and even under the soothing flow of water, Isabel couldn't escape her tears. She felt like a pawn of destiny, cursed to suffer.

] Janet did not care at all. [I know you're just bitter. Jealous and resentful. Go hide under your blanket and stay mad.] I actually laughed. [What would I be jealous of? Jealous that you picked up trash and might end up with infections and HPV?] Janet exploded, cursing me out nonstop. Just like that, she posted about me again. [Guys, who understands this? Just because I'm dating a rich guy, my so-called best friend is actually cursing me. I feel so wronged.]

Sadie had stolen him, just like she always stole everything I cared about. I felt a lump in my throat. Not just jealousy. Hurt. Anger. That cold, sharp emptiness that came from being invisible. I looked down at my trousers, my hands trembling. My hair was messy, my dress torn at the seam, and everyone could see it. Everyone could whisper. “I… I have an urgent meeting to attend,” I muttered, my voice low but steady. “I’ll be back.” Sadie’s lips curled. “Of course. Go run off to your precious meeting. Don’t embarrass the rest of us while you’re at it.”