Violence Of Mind Novels & Stories

I knew deep down that succumbing to violence would only perpetuate a cycle of hurt and destruction. Exerting tremendous effort, I fought against the primal urge, feeling my hands tremble with the internal struggle. I understood that giving in to the temptation of violence would only exacerbate our already fractured relationship. With every ounce of self-control, I suppressed the mounting anger, determined to find a resolution that did not involve further harm.

She had to be patient, more patient in dealing with the madness of the man in front of her. Facing a madman who has little sanity left, there is no need to use violence. Once is enough and it should be a lesson. Using words that are much crazier and more painful can weaken people like Angga. People who never want to feel defeated, feel guilty, and have their desires fulfilled immediately. People like that must be taught a lesson immediately. One that shakes them mentally and sticks in their brain and mind: if you ever mess with someone who dares to fight you without much violence, you will be dealt with.

'I have experienced this urge and this feeling many times. I do not suffer from any mental disorder. I do not know why I have it. I seem to enjoy being cruel to people. I am a sadist, or you may call me a psychopath. I get pleasure when I hear a woman screaming with pain and begging for her life. I enjoy inflicting pain. It seems abnormal but I am like that. It has been part of me for many years now. I am a sick man. I am a wicked and a spiteful man. I have an evil mind and I believe in seeking violent revenge over small issues. Inside my head it’s all dark.’

It pulsed with a slow, patient rhythm, like a beast waiting to be fed. That bastard has the guts to have an erection after everything he's done! Fighting with an electric collar still on my neck is useless. Secondly, I want to die, so why fight back? At least that monster, if used well, can take the life out of me. Let him fuck me into oblivion. Let him tear me apart from the inside. All I have to do is provoke him enough to rape me to death. Another point: since my body has been trained for sexual violence, only extreme pain can take me out.

The only reason I choose to take a cold bath instead is that I am fully aware that if I go to the gym in this state of mind, I would most likely also hit Moretti a little. The last time I hit him was two days ago, yet I can't stop thinking about it. I almost feel like I'm craving it. There’s something about landing a blow on his smug face that I adore. My insides get warm and sticky, and my bones become pliable after it works me so hard. I shouldn't feel that way. I am aware of that. It's not good. Violence is not good. It is wrong to hit a teammate. I will never do that again. Unless I'm provoked by him.

Lydia glanced at him, looked back at the frantic crowd, and then got in as fast as she could. Vince also got into the car. As the car door closed, the malicious voices faded away. "They're going too far!" Cecil was angry, "They are stirring up everyone's emotions, and they are trying to use public opinion to kill people." Yes, in modern society, there are many ways to kill people. Nives can kill people, so can public opinion. Likewise, violence exists in many forms, such as verbal violence.

With every punch, a torrent of emotions surged through him, driving him to the brink of madness. As memories flashed before his eyes, Iden's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together in a symphony of rage. The image of Ellaya, bruised and broken, haunted his thoughts, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume everything in its path. Her innocence, juxtaposed against Alex's depravity, fueled the inferno raging in his heart.

It tells people not to fuck with me before I even open my mouth. I pause at the mirror, giving myself a once-over. My reflection stares back, cold and unreadable. My face is stone. No emotion. No softness. But behind my eyes is nothing but chaos. Violence simmers there, coiled and waiting. My mind is painted red, thoughts laced with blood. I reach for my gun and strap it to my waist. Sometimes I wonder what I crave more: pussy or a fresh kill. Both get my heart pumping. Both make me feel alive.

Like violence came as naturally to him as breathing. The way he pointed it at that man’s head. No hesitation. No emotion. Just control. I squeezed my eyes shut, dragging in a shaky breath. But it didn’t matter. He was still there. In my head. In my chest. In the way my body refused to relax. The memory wasn’t just a memory anymore. It was something alive. Something that had taken root inside me, spreading slowly, infecting every corner of my mind. A soft knock came again. Then again. Then louder.

He muttered under his breath closing the door behind him as he barged into the familiar space, his heart rapidly drumming against his chest as his brain struggled to remain focus… the walls all around him spinning out of control as he growled irritably… “Ahh! What the fuck is going on… my head… ahh!” Victor slumped onto to cold tiled floors; pulling on his hair in sheer mental torment, yelling in confusion as a series of images invaded his subconscious mind… his thoughts were thrown into complete and utter chaos as trails of red liquid poured out from the corners of his orbs… his eyes were bleeding. ********************