Novel & Cerita Your Words Cut Deep Deeper Than Any Blade

“Let us pretend that that was just a moment of weakness. It should never happen again!” God knows I am bleeding inside, my very own words cutting through my poor heart like a double-edged dagger. This is deep. This is so strong.

--- And as the silence returned— As the distance between them settled into something real— As truth replaced what connection once was— One final truth emerged: --- The deepest cuts are not made by enemies— --- But by the ones who know exactly what to say… --- And choose to say it anyway.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground of the cage. The crowd cheered crazily, screams erupted all around me. "BLADE!" "BLADE!" "BLADE!" I pulled out my custom-made blade gleamed with a savage hunger under the bright arena lights. The polished steel bore the name "Capone," etched into the metal like a proclamation of death. Its edge was as sharp as a serpent's fang. It looked eager to cut, having tasted the blood of many before. The handle, wrapped in black leather, felt like a coiled snake in my grip, ready to strike with deadly accuracy. This blade wasn't just a weapon; it was a merciless instrument of brutality, a symbol of my unrelenting power in this world.

Because he is getting me so confused now. "With a knife, don’t worry about the cut; I will give you something that will heal it up immediately.” He says it calmly, but there’s a saying that the calmness of a man can kill faster than poison. I need to leave. God, I need to fucking escape from here! I cry from the inside, and my chest and throat begin to burn like flames.

A mistake, made on purpose, an opening left for it to take. And when it takes it I am already moving into the space its certainty left behind, and the Phantom Blade goes in under the jaw, up, into the place where the source sits, and I pour everything I am burning down the length of the titanium and into the thing that wears my face. It does not scream. It has no fear to scream with. The body folds, slow, my own features going slack on it, and as it goes down it looks up at me with my dimming eyes, and it uses the last of my stolen voice, and what it says is the worst wound of the whole night.

I tried to speak, to defend myself, but my words were swallowed by the darkness that enveloped me. That was the moment he swiftly grabbed the sword and cut my legs off. A yell left my throat as I watched my lips scattered on the floor. A loud laugh rang out immediately, they were all amused by my fear. That was the moment I felt a searing pain on my back. Another sword stuck through my chest, twisting my heart mercilessly.

he whispered. Blood touched his lips halfway through the words. “I finished the hundredth thing.” He pulled in one more breath. “Will you forgive me now?” I looked at him for a long time. Then I lifted my hand and covered his eyes. Slowly. Gently. And as the last of his breath left him, I shook my head. If I forgave you, then every wound would have hurt for nothing. Every tear would have fallen for nothing. A year later, I laid my weapons down for good.

"Our love is stronger than death, remember? I love you, with every fiber of my being, I love you." This couldn’t be real. He desperately wanted to wake up, her asleep in his arms, all of this some horrid nightmare and nothing else. But the blade that lowered to her chest was very real. He saw her mouth form the words 'I love you' and his heart shattered. The knife cut into her flesh, and a pain like none he had ever felt before, seared through him. He could hear screaming, but hadn't realized he himself was yelling out in pain. He doubled over, as what felt like fire seared his flesh and made his vision blur.

I’m not sure when I send the blade flying, but in one second my hand is empty. I vaguely hear the sound of metal cutting through the air. In the next second, It slices through candlelight, haze and history. Then— Impact. Not the clean, hollow plunge I rehearsed a hundred times in my head. There’s resistance. A sickening scrape. Metal meeting flesh, then bone. A sharp, strangled inhale. The blade does not sink where it should.

My own words sounded foreign to me, as if they were coming from a place beyond my control, from the very heart of the beast that had been unleashed. “No way...” Brandon’s disbelief was evident, his voice trembling as he spoke. But my grip on the blade tightened, the leather of my gloves creaking under the pressure. “I'm going to kill you,” I declared, each word dripping with venom that matched the red hue of my stained hands. “Slowly.”