Your Words Cut Deeper Than Any Blade Novels & Stories

Yna whispered. “I didn’t quote get it.” The man said to her. The tides made have been louder than her whisper. Yna let out a sigh. To speak of about it were like there are thousands of knives that were penetrating her chest. They were there still buried, their sharp edge that made her to continue to bleeds nonstop. The blood flows and Yna do not wanted them to stop anymore. She wanted tl let it all out, because that was the only thing she can resort as of the moment.

“Your brother is better than you…” Another cut. His arm was shaking now, crimson staining his hand, dripping steadily. “What a cherry I am. I am more edible than the runs girls…” The knife pressed again, blood spreading. “I am filthy… I am useless…” Each sentence ended with another slash, another line across his arm, another drop of blood soaking the floor. He didn’t blink.,He didn’t cry rather his face was eerily calm, detached, as if this act was the only thing that made sense anymore.

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.

“I’d have you trust a blade over a hammer. A hammer makes noise. A blade draws blood before it’s seen.” I pressed the heel of my hand to my brow, dragging down across my face. The fire in me wanted to roar, to fight, to break stone with bare fists. But beneath the fire, there was reason, and reason whispered that Leonard was not wrong. Charging blind with an army would make me look like a fool. Worse… It would be a waste of time.

The blade sliced through the air with precision and plunged into my chest. Talk about cutting straight to the heart of the matter. Agony, sharp and unrelenting, erupted within me like a torrent of fire, searing through my veins and engulfing my senses. I gasped for air, my sense of humor deserting me, the metallic tang of blood flooding my mouth as I staggered backward, my mind struggling to grasp the reason for his actions. Why? Why would he do this? As consciousness ebbed away, all I could think was that I didn't want to die like this. Not here, not today.

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

Like chains being dragged across bone. And deep inside, my wolf—what’s left of her—whimpers. She knows this tongue, and she’s terrified. He lifts the blade again. The next cut is longer. From my sternum to just above my navel. Shallow. Deliberate. Cruel. The blade sings as it moves, not slicing, but waking up.

I uncover myself and throw my legs over the side of the bed. I stand up and walk over to where my blade sits. I roll my sweatpants up to where I can see my lower thigh. I press the cold metal against my warm skin. I remember a time when my skin was smooth. Now it is covered in cuts. I slide the blade against my skin like a knife going through butter. Blood gushes out of my thigh. I take a sharp inhale as I press it another time on my skin, slicing it. One for my dead mother.

I don't what happened to me when I heard his inhumane words stabbing me again and again. As if one sharp thrust was not enough, he would take the knife out and then hit me again in the same spot until I bleed to death. It's not necessary to kill someone physically with a weapon, one can do the same damage with thier words just like Arnold did to me in that moment. There was no reflection of emotions on my face or either my eyes watered. I was numb as I walked out of the door.

With extreme fear, Delilah shook her head vigorously as she pleaded, "Tristan, it's me, Lila! What are you…" A scream echoed through the air as he slapped her harshly across the face. He inserted the dagger between her thighs, his tone frosty as he asked, "Was this what you did to my child?" With each word Tristan spoke, his voice grew quieter. Soon, all that could be heard were Delilah's faint gasps. The live stream flickered with static, but the ban still hadn't been enforced. I felt a chill down my spine as I met his eyes on-screen.