The Joy of Pain

The Joy of Pain

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing7m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, May 23, 2025
This is not a book. This is a confession, a warning, a celebration. A scream with ink instead of sound. The Joy of Pain is my love letter to agony, my manifesto of madness, and my revenge against the world that dared to name me "monster" before I ever spoke. Every page drips with truth the weak call "insanity." I do not bleed-I bloom. You will find no redemption here. No tearful apologies. No softening of the jagged edges that shaped me. Only jagged edges. Only fire and teeth and laughter echoing through ruined halls of memory. I speak of betrayal. Of the Creator who tried to erase me. Of the Impersonator who wears my name like a cheap costume. Of the screams that taste like sugar and the silence that tastes like death. I love pain. Not because I am broken-but because pain is honest. Pain never lies. Pain is what we all are beneath the masks. So open it, if you dare. Let me in. Let Mockery speak. And remember... you chose to read this.
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Book#2 Can be read as a standalone, but I recommend to read Havoc first. I was raised by a man who taught me how to survive, not how to feel. In a freezing house in rural Estonia, I learned to stay quiet. To stay hard. To take a hit and never cry. I knew what punishment felt like before I knew what safety was. My mother did nothing. My father was a monster. I was born to run. To survive. To keep my sister breathing and my demons quiet. But they were never quiet. Always lurking, whispering.. All I had was my sister. She was my family. She was my rock. And when my sister changed her course and moved to New York, I didn't even hesitate to leave it all behind. All I had were my determination, fists and a promise to protect her. I never meant to become a fighter. I wasn't chasing glory. I was chasing silence. Control. A run from my chaos. But the past never stays buried, and the rage never stops burning. I don't believe in love. Not because I'm edgy or broken or any of that poetic bullshit. I just know what it really looks like- fists, silence, slammed doors. Blood on tiles and bruised bodys. Then came Belle Rivera. She's all fire and venom, smart mouth and sharp heels. She saw straight through me from day one and never looked away. She broke every rule I lived by. Saw every part of me I tried to hide. I didn't fall in love. I crashed into it. Now the only thing more dangerous than the fights I take is what I'd do to protect her. This is who I am now. Not a survivor. A weapon. I've already bled for survival. Now I'll bleed for love.

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