Vengeful Father Syndrome Novels & Stories

I didn't need to study my father's behavior pattern to predict it. He would do something major, theatrical, and specific to make him show the world who was in charge. “Are you okay?” asked Valeria. “You have days with your nerves on edge.” I looked at who I already considered my friend and was honest with her. “I'm terrified of what my father might do,” I replied honestly. "He is not controlled or patient; he thinks very rationally, and worse, when anger clouds his judgment, he is capable of anything to get revenge. At this point I don't know if what happened at the gala exceeded his patience. My father looks at the world in black and white; for him, nuances are not important. You can't humi

His voice, when he spoke, was firm, devoid of any sympathy for my father's imagined plea. "Forgiveness," he repeated, the word flat, almost scornful. "A convenient plea from a man who has shown none. A trick of the mind, my love." He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto mine, intense and unwavering. "Do not let such illusions sway you. Your father is a predator. He preyed on your mother's weakness, and he would break you too, given the chance. He built his empire on the suffering of others, and he has never, truly, been sorry for it. Only sorry when he is caught, or when his power is threatened."

“Can we stop discussing Mum now? This has nothing to do with her.” “This has everything to do with her and you know it. Ever since she died, you’ve turned into this… this vengeful person I don’t even recognize. You’ve become so determined to make everyone around you suffer.” “So we’re finally doing this? Fine, I’ll play along. Since you want to know so bad, yes, it’d be better if you’d died along with her. At least, having a dead father would hurt less than having one who is right in front of you but might as well be dead for how absent he is.”

Above all he despised all the descendants of the Mark. His hatred began when his father, the Maker of the Land of Nod, would create a dispute, and not find a solution, then his father would accuse him. He would shift the blame. He would tell him he was the reason behind the mess! It was bad parenting such as that injured his brain, increases impulsivity, and aggression that hurts others. But the most heart-wrenching thing his father did was to compare him to his brother Allan, and state that "you aren't like this," or "you aren't like that." Well, you know what they say about opposites. How was he supposed to be aggressive and silent at the same moment? How can a kettle release steam and be

"If you hurt her, I promise you'll regret it for the rest of your life!" "Oh, I'm so scared," she mocked. "Leomund, what leverage do you think you have right now? Ginny is my daughter, too, you know? And she makes me money. Why would I hurt her? "You're the one who's stirring up trouble. Why won't you stop targeting Tobias and me?" I was shaking with fury, fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. "You beat my daughter black and blue! You locked her in a car to die! And you're asking me why?"

The way her body shook in my arms was very real, and she made a muffled choking sound as if she were struggling for oxygen. The kid has shattered more bones in nine years than I have in my whole life. Which says a lot as I grew up with a heavy-handed father who only knew how to demonstrate his love with his brutal hands. Disgust. Vengeance. Fury. All of these sensations lick my feverish skin, tattooing their impressions upon my dormant fucking soul. I will determine whether her father also showed her affection with his fists too. And if he did, I hope he can still manage his insufferable organisation while having eight fingers shattered.

Yet, the scars remained, etching a painful narrative into the very fabric of his existence. His father's disdain seeped into his perception of himself, distorting his self-image and sowing seeds of self-doubt. He questioned his worthiness of love and struggled to form healthy relationships, haunted by the echoes of his father's scornful voice. In the face of this relentless hatred, his spirit was tested. He confronted moments of anguish and despair, grappling with the profound impact of his father's animosity. Yet, amidst the darkness, a flicker of resilience burned within him, a glimmer of hope that refused to be extinguished.

He knows that deep down, his father simply wants a better son than him. His father was partly responsible for his mother’s suicide, after all, that man has always been violent and uncontrollable when it comes to his emotional outburst. However, watching all the riches his father built and the place where he preserved his memories with his best friend burnt down just like that fueled his anger.

His father being defeated so easily. He always wished he could do that to his father. It wasn't that he couldn't do it physically, it was the fact that his father had caused him so much trauma that he couldn't get himself to hurt his father in return no matter how hard he tried. As for his brothers who also traumatized him, he didn't hesitate to beat the crap out of them but his father...he just couldn't do the same to him. He always felt like he was put under a spell. Everything within him would just freeze.

After all, I’d heard so much about Magnus Wrath’s only son, who was born a Vel Morin, from my mother, ever the gossip. To me, he had seemed stoic, unflappable, stylishly rebellious. But I’d quickly learned that he was a sociopath who lacked all empathy and would happily watch the world burn. My mom tagged his spooky behavior to the fact that being a Vel Morin isn’t an easy task, and it can weigh the bearer down and even cause madness if they are unable to handle the burden.