Pain and suffering…

Here’s mine:

I felt like complete and utter shit. As if someone had jammed an ice pick six inches deep into the base of my skull and was prying it wide open.

Jesus Christ…

Splitting it right down the fucking middle.

It hurts.

If you’re an author…

Share a few lines of a character suffering pain and ONE link to your book or website. If you’re a reader, sit back and enjoy the comments!


Mistress Ann

4 thoughts on “Pain and suffering…

  1. Such a great topic this week!! Here’s mine from Two . . .

    Ever so slowly, Sofia began to crawl out of the darkness.
    And very quickly, she wished she hadn’t.
    The aching in her head was so severe she couldn’t register anything else. Sofia was used to headaches but this one was something else.

  2. Gosh, I have this in every book, but I decided to go with Merry Me…

    The car suddenly jerked, slamming her violently in the seat. A ringing sensation rippled throughout her ears, blocking out any coherent thought. Her hands still clutched the wheel as a sharp pain radiated from her head, down her spine, and to the tips of her toes.

  3. So, here is mine from Beautiful Delusions. There are so many instances where they are in pain it was hard to choose!

    I was tackled from the side by one of the goon squad and hit the ground, hard. My gun skidded out of my hand and at the feet of the other man.
    Before I knew what was happening my hands were pulled roughly behind my back. They were held together with zip-ties.
    “GRIFFIN!” I screeched just before my head exploded in pain and everything went black.

    It hasn’t been put up for pre-order yet but there is a sample on Goodreads!

  4. Pain and suffering in abundance… From my Civil War ear novel “Devil Her Due”

    It had been ten days since the loss of George and John. Since then there had been no time to mourn, or even to think of what had been lost. They had been on the long humiliating retreat out of hostile Pennsylvania through Maryland, back to friendly territories in Virginia. When on the move little could be done to relieve the suffering of the wounded. The supply of tincture, morphine, and other pain relievers was running low. It had to be saved for surgery. So the wounded simply agonized silently or loudly as each was wont to do by his nature. Their blood seeped through the floorboards of the ambulances leaving a ruby ribbon trail as they ran roughshod over the rocky roads.
    The doctors, nurses, and stewards took turns riding along to provide whatever comfort they could. Sometimes they were even lucky enough to find a spot that had been vacated by some poor wretch that had succumbed and manage to lie down and sleep for a bit if they could tune out the wailing of the other occupants. When they stopped for any length of time, the hospital staff surmounted exhaustion and despair, managing to do what they could for those suffering worse than themselves.
    God had made the world in seven days but for those in the haggard caravan it seemed the world they knew was now more akin to hell. The devil was collecting her due day after day, grinding away at the souls of those who remained. What straw would break the camel’s back sweeping each into the pit overflowing with futility and horror was all that remained to be seen.

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