What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger Novel Novels & Stories

“It is a promise I made to myself. I will grow stronger and I will butcher him like a dog, more gruesome than he butchered my parents. Do you still want me to survive?” He shrugs. “When you grow up and grow stronger, you can give it a try. Many have tried and failed, perhaps you’ll join the statistics, or perhaps you’ll succeed. The strong kill the weak. That is why Reenan killed your father. When you grow up and you grow stronger than Reenan, you may try killing him. It is nature. But first you must survive. Are you ready to?” I swipe at the tears with the back of my hand and nod.

"I know everything about you Claire. I know that there is an anger and bitterness within you, one you wish to liberate. And I know how much you were bullied and taken advantage of because you were weak. I also know that you want to get stronger, but somehow, your training is not going well." I flinched and grimaced. How did this book know me so well? But it told no lies. I wanted to get stronger, but the training was not of my h help to me. It only made me feel like I was regressing. Was I bound to be weak forever? Was it impossible for me to get strong? "You said you can make me strong. How?" I asked. The book flipped open as it chuckled. "All you have to do it let me in," it cooed.

It started with the Navarro’s while they were fighting and it ended with them growing in love. It is said that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and their love just went through the fire and resisted.

I didn't have time to explain everything over the phone. In the end, Emmett chose to believe me. "Alright. I'll buy them right now." After the zombie apocalypse descended on the world in my previous life, guns were hailed as the most important weapons when it came to fighting off the zombies. As a result, survivors often fought over them desperately throughout the apocalypse. Zombies couldn't feel pain at all, so normal attacks did nothing to halt them in their steps. Only by putting a bullet in their head could they be completely annihilated.

But I wasn’t done. Not yet. “You should’ve killed me with that stab,” I grunted. “Because now I know your weakness.” He chuckled darkly, wiping blood from his forehead. “What, your rock-throwing skills?” “No,” I said, staggering toward him, fists clenched tight. “You don’t fight for anything. That’s your weakness. You kill to feel strong. I fight because I have to. That’s the difference.” “Big words for someone who’s dying.” “You think this is dying?” I growled. “This is just the beginning.”

Over and over. You could be stronger than any man alive but there was difference between having strength and having fight. I had strength. What I didn’t have for so long was the fight. I’d lost it somewhere along the way. Maybe it was watching my friends die, the people I cared for die, watched as they all crumbled and yet I had to still be alive. My strength was useless without fight.

I smirked when we found the report that names my father and Bear's dad as confirmed dead. Bear looked at me with tears, "Why? Why did you do this?" I made a fake pout face at him as I walked over to him. "Aww. Are you sad?" I mocked. "That was your family. Your legacy." he pushed and I shook my head. "Not mine. Never mine. That's not legacy, it was my prison. Mine and Margo's and Nat's. We were never treated as family. We were never safe there. That club is poison. Worse than poison. Both those clubs were infected and rotten limbs and the only way to survive them was to cut them off and kill them. I did the whole world a favor when I killed them. They were worse than animals. They were evil

Move. Create space. Never stop moving. I obeyed. The fight spilled across the empty street. I ducked. Dodged. Countered. The knife became an extension of my hand. I managed to land another cut. Then another. Each one opened a small wound. Each one proved he wasn't invincible. But every success came with a cost. He was stronger. Much stronger. And he wasn't trying to kill me.

Stupid of me, I know, but I could only hope. But they didn’t even look at me. They were too busy drooling over the blood-red diamonds. All I could do was remember all the times the bastards had tortured me, broken me, humiliated me… and now they were selling me off. I wanted more than anything to just attack them...to fight back for once. But I’d be an idiot if I actually thought I could. I mean, I had to be the weakest person in the entire world. Even weaker than a human.

How am I going to get home? “Fat bitch, do you not hear me talking to you.” I don’t respond as I wonder how the hell I’m going to get out of this book. I’ve read several novels like this, but the main character almost always dies in their world. Dread fills me; did I die in my sleep? I didn’t even get to read the last Game of Thrones novel; how could I have died? I’m young and healthy, yeah I’m relatively thick, but a little fat never hurt anyone.