Your Words Cut Deep Deeper Than Any Blade Novels & Stories

“Stronger than I expected. Maybe your blood really is what they say it is.” “Keep talking,” I growled, my breathing rough. “See where it gets you.” He smiled again, raising his blade. “The truth always bleeds its way out.” He charged. Our knives clashed, sparks flying in the dim light. His movements were precise, practiced. I blocked his strikes, countered with my own, until one slipped past my defense and cut deep into my side. I staggered but didn’t fall. Pain shot through me, but I used it — let it sharpen my focus.

Is being a pole dancer just because of my needs that sinful. Tears were continuously falling from my eyes.I placed my palms on my face breaking into loud cry. I fell on my knees and cried harder. How am I even still alive after hearing those words. How can someone’s fate this cruel. I never wanted this life. I never wanted anything bad. Then why this is happening to me. Why. Sometimes words leaving tongue can be sharper than a knife. Knife can hurt you but words can break you apart. Like his words broke her completely. _______________________ Next will be updated soon. Do like and give feedback. Spread the purple heart.

“Good things become a two-edged sword that cuts a warrior to his soul when he can’t protect them.” The pain in his voice was so deep and full of disgust that, though she stood with her arms wrapped around him, she wondered if she could reach him at all.

She said with rage in her voice as she wiped off her tears. Edwina's words cut through the air like a blade, each syllable charged with a hot-blooded mix of anguish and rage. The raw emotion in her voice was a haunting melody, a lament that echoed the depths of her pain. Her threat hung heavy, a desperate declaration that echoed through the stillness of the moment.

The pressure was unbearable. They all disappeared at the exact same time. Three of the clones blurred past my line of sight, their blades slicing deep cuts across my chest, my thighs, and my right shoulder. The pain was so white-hot and blinding I couldn't even scream anymore; my throat was completely dry, filled with the taste of my own burning spirit-blood. Each wound felt like it was carved with molten metal.

And felt nothing but hurt and pain. And with every word that came from his mouth, I died a little more. "Lying bitch! Stupid whore! Disease ridden!" Rip. Slash. Cut. Burn. His words were a hundred fists punching into my gut. His words were fifty knives slashing at my chest. His words were a sword, cutting me off. His words were a thousand kicks to the back of my knees. His words were a gunshot to my spine, shooting me and scattering me to pieces, the sound of the explosion, ricocheting in my ears.

With ruthless determination, Alaric plunged the sword into the ground before their very eyes. Blood-curdling screams echoed through the air as they cried out in agony. With intense commitment, the King hurled his sword towards his enemies, the blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. The sharp edge of the weapon met the filthy mouths of his foes, leaving behind a trail of deep, jagged wounds.

She screams in my head. The faster I am cutting myself, the faster I am healing. “You won’t even allow me die? What else do you want from me, haven’t you taken enough and made me miserable enough??” I stagger and land on the ground. The blade in my hand falls away as I cry out. I press my eyes hard as tears continue to flush out.

As the faint sound of me slicing through the bone and his screams of anguish intertwine, blood begins to spurt from his wound. It's like a beautiful symphony being composed by me. The finger falls to the ground with a gentle thud, and I twist my foot as I step on it, crushing it. "You savage mother fucker!" He cries out, as I wipe the bloodstained blade on his shirt.

If you just get that box with your cutting utensils. I'm not cutting again. 'Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut...' I'm not cutting. 'Of course not, you're you're coward!' I don't wanna live anymore.