As Sophia's words stirred my memory of the previous night, I found myself slowly remembering everything.In the chaos of audience went to greet me, the staff ushered me into the staffroom. There, a celebration awaited us, marked by glasses of rich red wine to toast the closing of our musical performance.The atmosphere was electric, the orchestra musicians exuberant with the success of the night, their joy infectious as they insisted I join them in toast after toast."I've never witnessed such enthusiasm from an audience in all my years!" exclaimed one musician, his eyes sparkling with excitement."Nor have I ever played such a mesmerizing piece," another added, her voice tinged with pride."To our conductor!" they cheered, as more and more people approached, glasses in hand, making it impossible for me to decline their offerings. I drank several glasses of red wine, making me feel tipsy.Amidst the revelry, a staff member approached, gently guiding me towards the office. "Conductor,
I revved the engine of my super bike, slicing through the city's cacophony as I made my way to the rehabilitation center. Celeste and Maria had already journeyed there by car, leaving me to navigate the bustling streets alone. Sophia and I had parted ways at the penthouse; her soul immersed in the intricate melodies of her new music. I had left her with the best songs to practice - John Legend's "All of Me" and Ed Sheeran's "Perfect," hoping they'd resonate with her artistic spirit.Upon arriving at the rehabilitation center, a heavy air of sorrow greeted me. People's heads shook gently, their expressions etched with grief. The atmosphere was thick with an unspoken sadness, almost tactile in its intensity. I maneuvered through the somber crowd, making my way to Victoria's room. The corridor felt longer than usual, each step echoing with the collective heartache of those present.Inside Victoria's room, the scene was heart-wrenching. Celeste was weeping inconsolably at her mother's bed
"Why do you hit me?" I gasped, clutching my aching stomach as I confronted the assailant. His eyes, cold and unfeeling, met mine briefly before he shrugged with a mocking smirk. "What?" he retorted, his voice dripping with disdain, "Can't I hit you?" Without warning, his fist connected with my head, a sharp pain radiating through my skull.Anger, hot and seething, began to morph into a blistering fury within me.The teachings of Buddha echoed in my mind, 'Control your anger, lest it becomes the source of your regret.'Taking a deep breath, I summoned all my speed and strength, channeling it into a swift blow to his stomach. My fist connected with a satisfying thud. Spinning with a fluid motion, I struck his face - once, twice, thrice - each hit a release of the pent-up fury. He crumbled to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, "Fuck, Buddha, I am not a Buddhist!"The others, part of his gang, began to close in. He came at me, arms swinging.
The imposing figure, who seemed to be the leader, approached with an air of authority. As he spoke, the crowd hushed in anticipation. “What do you want?” he demanded.Confused and slightly taken aback, I stepped forward. “You take my superbike and destroy it, yet you ask me what I want? I demand compensation from whoever wrecked it.”The leader’s laugh echoed mockingly. “I don’t know who destroyed it. Did you see any of us do it? All I know is you came here attacking us.”I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity. “So, this is your game? You're even more of a coward than I thought, denying your own actions. Fine, I'll coax the truth out of you, one way or another.”“Do you really think you can stand against us?” The leader’s voice was dripping with contempt. “Attack him now!”Yet, no one moved. I walked up to the leader, my eyes locking with his. “Why don't you make your move, coward, always hiding behind numbers? I stand here alone, and still, you call for others to fight your battl
The discipline teacher, his age evident in his balding head and furrowed brow, stormed in with a palpable air of anger. Accompanying him was Gisella, Peter's sister, her presence adding to the tension."Nothing happened," the club captain declared, striding towards the teacher with a strained smile that did little to mask the bruises marring his face.The teacher, skepticism etched in every line of his face, surveyed the scene. "What do you mean 'nothing'? I can clearly see bruises on your face, and hear the moans of pain," he remarked, his gaze sweeping over six individuals writhing on the floor."Teacher," the captain began, his voice laced with effort to sound convincing. "We're a boxing club. Sparring is part of our routine. How else could we hope to win the upcoming tournament?"The teacher's eyes narrowed, unswayed. He continued his inspection, noting the twenty-five club members, each wearing a forced smile.Of course, nothing was wrong.As Gisella walked away just now, I force
“Wait,” Maria interjected hastily, her voice laced with urgency, “I've run out of money.”I rummaged through my wallet and extracted $1,000, extending it towards her with a subtle nod.“Thank you,” Maria uttered happily. She clasped Gisella's hand firmly, leading her with a sense of purpose. “Come on, let's gather your belongings.”***In the confines of the car, Maria maneuvered the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Gisella sat beside her, her mind swirling with unanswered questions. “Is he your family?” Gisella inquired, her curiosity piqued.“Nope,” Maria responded with a nonchalant shake of her head, eyes still on the road.“A boyfriend, perhaps?” Gisella probed further.Maria let out a light, amused laugh. “No, not at all. We are total strangers, in fact.”Gisella's brow furrowed in bewilderment. “Did you do something significant for him?”Maria's laugh resounded in the car again. “Not really. I just exist there, eat, and do very little.”Gisella's eyes widened in
I caught a taxi to the prestigious boutique, bustling with flawlessly beautiful sales staff. They offered impeccable recommendations, their delicate ivory hands gently touching me as they wore shy smiles, emanating a lovely scent. It contrasted sharply with the experience of shopping at a traditional market, where the sellers, often rude and overweight, would nonchalantly pick their noses while chanting, “pick, pick, all cheap.”I was acutely aware of Violet's looming despair. Born into a life of luxury, she had developed an insatiable appetite for the trappings of wealth. Once ensnared in such a lifestyle, the mere thought of a lesser existence was unfathomable to her. In her world, the judgment of peers was relentless, and falling from grace was akin to a social death sentence.Despite her unyielding desires, her sole venture into the world of business – a furniture store – was teetering on the brink of bankruptcy. She clung to the remnants of her former life, desperate to reclaim h
When she was begging, I had already scored 1-0 in this life-and-death game, I mean in the game of giving life.As she couldn't contain herself, I prepared my lil brother to slowly visit her lil sister. And just as I pushed it inside, she began moaning, her whole-body trembling in pleasure as she screamed, “Oh my god!” Her body trembling in pleasure as she reached orgasm, which made her body turn into an U shake and her hand grip the bed cover.Just by one attacked. I scored again, making it 2-0.Then I started to do my job, to move inside and outside made my lil brother dancing with the lil sister, make sure they were tightly touching every part.“Please stop,” she begged, “It's ticklish, I can't take it. I just got orgasm.”As if I would heed her plea, I moved my waist like a perfect machine, going deep, slamming it, and moving in rhythm with controlled breathing. Inside, outside, inside, outside.She grabbed my body and muscles, “take it out, it's really ticklish.”But I didn't care