Your Words Cut Deeper Than A Knife Novels & Stories

I muttered as I tried to search for the words. “What’s wrong?” Reiner asked. I could feel Reiner’s eyes on me along with the eyes of Kuman. We’re half married so I might as well get used to being very honest with him. “Look, the thing is…I’ve never cut anyone with a knife before…you know, I’m a normal person and normal people don’t…do things like that. So, I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to hurt you…” I tried my best to explain.

In his chest, a silver-steel sword cut through him like someone would slice a turkey at Christmas dinner. "Oh.my.god..." The words left her mouth without even processing them.

And I will take you out of it if you get in my way. His words struck me like a last blow, piercing my chest like a knife edge.

He had more hours in this yard; I had a wolf who had not forgiven me for thinking about running. I let her hum at the edges of my eyes. Not a shift. A tilt. The world sharpened into the exactness that makes choices hurt more. Jason’s weight sat too long in his left heel when he cut to my outside. The knife did an unnecessary flourish because it liked being admired. He blinked more than he wanted to. Sleep had not been his friend. “Come on then,” he said, a little louder, for the ones at the back. “Show us the miracle.”

he cut in quietly. “No, you don’t!” My chest was heaving again, but this time it was anger surging through me fast and hot. “You can’t just throw yourself in front of knives like you’re invincible. You don’t get to do something that stupid and expect me to just—just sit here and laugh with you after.” The room suddenly went quiet as he stared at me, his gaze never leaving mine. For once, there was no sarcasm in his eyes, no easy deflection. Just sincerity and remorse. “That was a wolfsbane knife Xane. Any inch deeper and you would have been gone.”

I asked as I suddenly felt nervous "Don't worry, you work hurt me" "How do you know that? I might do it accidentally, and isn't it better to work with a blunt knife or something not so sharp, cause I don't think this is a good idea?" " It's better to start with a sharp knife, I have folded you, you have great potential, and starting off the gun with what you would face in light of an attack is better than using something blunt, and you won't hurt me because I am too quick for you to catch," he said

he spat, leaning closer, the edge of his blade pressing into my neck, “you think he’s some kind of saint. A hero who’s going to swoop in and save you from your pathetic little situation. Why? Because he fucked you? Is that it? You think that because he touched you, you’re all he thinks about? That he’d risk everything—his life, his men—for someone like you?” His words were cruel and unrelenting, designed to break me piece by piece. He pushed the blade harder against my neck, forcing me back until I fell onto the bed. My head hit the mattress, and I gasped, my hands instinctively gripping the sheets beneath me. “Stop,” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper. The tears I had been fighting b

Her words keep echoing in my skull. I don’t know if I can survive you. I’ve been shot. Stabbed. Beaten to the edge of death. Nothing has ever cut me deeper than that single sentence. Because it is the one wound I cannot fight my way out of.

“Please, I have a family—” I pulled my knife from its sheath, the blade glinting under the flashing club lights. “So did I,” I said, pressing the tip just below his collarbone. His entire body trembled. “I’ll disappear,” he choked out. “I swear. I’ll leave the city. You’ll never see me again.” I tilted my head, considering it. Then I dragged the knife down, slow and deliberate, carving into his flesh. His scream tore through the room, raw and agonized, but I didn’t stop. I cut deeper, forming each letter with the same precision I used when slicing through my enemies. Blood poured down his chest, pooling at his waist, staining his expensive suit.

It's like a lunch date. The pain in my chest increased because of what I saw. It even got worse when I remembered what he said to me after we had mind-blowing sex. "Leave, bitch." "Leave, bitch." "Leave, bitch." "Leave, bitch." It was like a broken record repeating those words in my head. And every time it repeated, it was like killing my heart over and over again. It's like being stabbed repeatedly, but the weapon used is not a knife, but words. Words that are enough to kill the heart if wounded.