Story cover for Crying blood by HobNobby
Crying blood
  • WpView
    LECTURAS 1,537
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    Votos 96
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    Partes 18
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    Hora 1h 12m
  • WpView
    LECTURAS 1,537
  • WpVote
    Votos 96
  • WpPart
    Partes 18
  • WpHistory
    Hora 1h 12m
Concluida, Has publicado oct 28, 2017
Contenido adulto
I'm seeing my dead mom. 
Every time I see her I cry a river of blood
I need her to stop. 
Every time I see her she tries to scare me.
She tries to hurt me. 
 She's even tried to... kill me.  
How can I make it stop...
*MAYBE SOME THINGS THAT ARE SENSITIVE TO SOME READERS*
*completed*
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Content Warning: This story contains themes of abuse, mental illness, blood, and drug use. Reader discretion is advised. If any of this feels familiar or personal, please know you're not alone. Feeling overwhelmed or emotional doesn't make you weak-it makes you human. If you're going through something and don't have anyone to talk to, you can always message me. My DMs are open on Instagram @thegoob_first. No judgment. Just someone who's willing to listen. ⸻ People say it gets better. That pain is temporary. That if you just "hold on," things will change. But I've been holding on so tight my hands are bleeding, and nothing's changed- except me. I'm thirteen, and I'm already tired. Not just sleepy. I mean tired in my bones. Tired of pretending school matters. Tired of dodging fists and fake smiles. Tired of being the leftover twin. Kevin was the one people loved. The loud one. The brave one. He used to say we were two halves of the same storm. But he's gone. Drowned in a river we weren't supposed to be near. And I'm still here. Alone. Sometimes I wonder if the wrong twin died. And some days, I know it. My mom won't look at me the same. My dad's fists speak louder than his words. And me? I gave up a long time ago. So I did what you're not supposed to do. I ended it. Only-I didn't. Because I woke up. Again. Same day. Same weight in my chest. Same pain. Now I can't even die right. But then I met her. Skye. And suddenly, dying isn't the hardest part anymore. Living is.
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My father is the Alpha of our pack. The Midnight run pack. He is the most respected man that I have ever known. All that matters to me is me pleasing him. I want to be like him when I am Alpha. I am standing in his office nervously. I have to tell him but I am scared. He is all the family that I have since my mother died. His hair is short and black like mine. He looks up at me with his brown eyes. That is the difference between us. Our eyes. Mine are emerald green like my mothers. He looks at me curiously. " Milo son? you ok?" he asks me I nodded my head and my hands are shaking. "Dad? I have to tell you something! I don't know how to say it... I kinda figured it out today..." I spit out quickly. "Well? What is it?" He laughed at my hyperness. "I'm gay." I spat out. His smile dies on his face and his face went cold. I shiver in a little fear but brush it off. "Are you sure? You could be going through some phase or something." He asked kinda carefully. "I'm Positive. I know I might be really young but I promise that I am." I say proudly. He stands up and walks over to me. He lifts my face up and stares at me. I get more nervous. What the hell is he doing? He brings his hand down across my face. His wolf claws extended. I feel them cut down across my face. I lift my hands to my face and see blood on them. I whimper and look up at my dad. "You are no longer my son. Your rights for being the next alpha have been revoked. Anything that was rightfully yours its mine now. You are nothing to me now. You are the lowest in the pack and will have to ask for everything. Get the fuck out of my sight." He threw me into the wall. I whimpered and ran out. I was ten years old when that happened to me. My life has been hell ever since. There is nothing I can do about it. I've been beaten burned and have other things done. My wolf hates me and I don't blame him. I hate myself..
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Nice to meet you after all these years. You've grown so well. You look like a lot like your your mother. I smiled, getting a little uncomfortable with the comparison to my mother. "I see. I'm glad to give you company". "Thank you dear. It has been 10 years since I got Alzheimer and your mother just left me here. You sound kinder than her". I choked on my coffee hearing what she said, "What do you mean my mother?", I asked shockingly, not caring about respect for that second. "Yes, she used to visit me everyday when you were born. Huh! Sweet old times! Unfortunately, it has been 2 years". She seemed serious, more like disappointed, the real disappointment that one could not fake. I was about to blame her fuzzy logic on her alzheimer but she startled me with just a photo on her phone. A mid aged lady wearing a red dress that revealed most of her neck with her smiling widely, both of them holding champagne, looking like they were about to pass out. I scrunched up my mind a little and tried remembering my mom's face . The last time I checked, my mother didn't have a twin. I kind of grabbed the phone from her and rechecked the photo to only notice that it was taken exactly 2 years ago. I was shocked and tried to put things together but failed miserably. "But my parent's death were 5 years ago. How can my mother still be alive?" A story where a 19 year old girl, Chasey goes on an "uncalled for" adventure to find the last puzzle piece she craved for, all her life. Is she desperate? Yes. Will people show the same interest as her in finding their own unique mystery, investing their time and money? No. Why did she chose to? especially when it's not do or die. Because it was a need for her not a want. Word count - approx 28000
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32 partes Concluida Contenido adulto

Content Warning: This story contains themes of abuse, mental illness, blood, and drug use. Reader discretion is advised. If any of this feels familiar or personal, please know you're not alone. Feeling overwhelmed or emotional doesn't make you weak-it makes you human. If you're going through something and don't have anyone to talk to, you can always message me. My DMs are open on Instagram @thegoob_first. No judgment. Just someone who's willing to listen. ⸻ People say it gets better. That pain is temporary. That if you just "hold on," things will change. But I've been holding on so tight my hands are bleeding, and nothing's changed- except me. I'm thirteen, and I'm already tired. Not just sleepy. I mean tired in my bones. Tired of pretending school matters. Tired of dodging fists and fake smiles. Tired of being the leftover twin. Kevin was the one people loved. The loud one. The brave one. He used to say we were two halves of the same storm. But he's gone. Drowned in a river we weren't supposed to be near. And I'm still here. Alone. Sometimes I wonder if the wrong twin died. And some days, I know it. My mom won't look at me the same. My dad's fists speak louder than his words. And me? I gave up a long time ago. So I did what you're not supposed to do. I ended it. Only-I didn't. Because I woke up. Again. Same day. Same weight in my chest. Same pain. Now I can't even die right. But then I met her. Skye. And suddenly, dying isn't the hardest part anymore. Living is.