Romans & histoires Voice Of Disgust Inside Out 2

Just a slow fade into nothingness, as if they had never existed. I turned away from the ruin I had created, letting the final traces of adrenaline settle into a dark, lingering satisfaction. Ivan’s expression stood out against the dim lighting of the chamber. He was frowning—not in fear, but something close to disgust. Adorable. His jaw clenched, his posture rigid, as if he was trying to fight the reaction forming in his gut. "It's disgusting," he said abruptly, his voice tight with unease. "How can you even look at it without turning away or—hell—even blinking?"

No permission. That kiss froze me. It was a shock. The taste of beer, the hot breath, the immediate disgust. Something broke inside me in that instant. I shoved him hard, and the book flew off the table. The fright overwhelmed me, and the scream that escaped my lips was the reflex of a deep pain. “Get out of here!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Are you insane?” He stepped back, raising his hands as if innocent, but his smile was disgusting, cynical.

A man’s voice said, sounding so sure of what he is saying. “I think we are just wasting our time here. There is no one here. Maybe he just has to fix the room in case if he finds someone else.” Another voice of a man spoke with a hint of irritation. I heard footsteps heading away. I moved away from the door when the guy from outside knocked again. It becomes harder and harder that I cover my ears. I don’t like the sound of it. “Stop it,” I whispered. “Hey! Stop that. We need to go! I’m all tired and hungry.” I can hear the other guy with his angry voice.

My fingers trembled as I lifted the lid, and gasped. A live animal squirmed inside, terrified, helpless. My stomach lurched violently. Jay laughed, his voice echoing through the hollow room. “You’re such a little scared baby.” My hands pressed against my chest. He wasn’t right. Something was wrong. Something was deeply wrong. “I need to use the restroom,” I whispered, forcing a weak smile. He pointed to the back. “Over there.” I rushed away, my hands shaking. Inside, I gripped the sink, splashing water on my face, trying to breathe. Then I saw it. The walls, the floor, smears of blood. And worse. Body parts.

It awakens the monster within me, and I snarl, unable to hold back the beast within me. "Please don't come closer..." I growl and cover my face with the palms of my hands—a migraine is creeping over my head. The darker part of my brain is speaking words into my head: "Eat him! He won't live another day anyhow! He is bleeding out! And eating human flesh makes us stronger!" I try to shake the ominous voice out of my head and regain control, but I'm struggling. Fighting against my instincts is hard, and tears roll down my chin when I notice the kid crawling towards me.

His emotions show in his face, just doesn't listen to his sexy but sounds sarcastic voice. Are bubble systems all like that? Like a robot with a sexy voice but their tone same as robots? What am I thinking? That's not the time for that. My body felt cold on the road and I felt disgusted as my blood mixed with dirt that touches my face. Ahh... I hate germs... My eyes are open not because I want to but because I can't close them. The bystanders stared at me with curiosity and fears, some of them called someone, some of them shrieks and hurt my ears, some of them murmured, but worse are those that puke.

Inner anger seethes and bubbles inside of me and I want to gouge her eyes out. Fucking bitch!

I almost wish I was a skunk again so I could spray him. "I didn't do it. Someone or something possessed me and made me do it. You're going to pay for making me swallow." I scream at him. The thought of it makes me gag again. I run to the sink and rinse my mouth out. It's not working; I still feel sick. I wonder if there's a porcupine outside that I can use to scrape the taste out of my mouth. Gabe is fixing his pants, looking at me in confusion as I use my fingernails to scrape my mouth. I need something to bleach this taste out of my mouth before I vomit again.

Where the hell is that damn LA City Yue club girl? Really, someone should have given it a nuke to blow it up. Especially the part that develops to the extreme. To be able to design such a disgusting, lowly sex device. “Jenny? Wow, brother, are you constipated? Sitting on the toilet for that long?" Outside the toilet, suddenly the voice of a colleague sounded, causing Jenny, who was looking up at the sky and screaming in pain, suddenly became silent.

Inch by terrifying, agonizing inch. Abs. A broad, built chest that probably deflected bullets. A sharp jawline carved from pure cruelty. With every inch my eyes climbed, dread clawed its way through my stomach, spreading goosebumps across my skin like wildfire. My brain was screaming three words on a loop: ABORT MISSION! ABORT MISSION!! ABORT MISSION!!! “What. The. Fuck.” Grey eyes. Cold. Sharp. Glaring down at me with the exact kind of thick, heavy disgust usually reserved for a leaky trash bag at the bottom of a dumpster.