Accidentally Touched Dried Blood Novels & Stories

"Talk to me. Please." "I just forgot the tap was on!" I lied, wiping my hands on my jeans. I had to get him out before he went into the bedroom. "You didn't just forget a tap," Carl said. He reached out and gently caught my chin, tilting my head up toward the light. I pushed away his hands. He stopped breathing. In the bright light, the dried blood smear across my jawline was completely visible. "What is that?" Carl's voice whispered, his fingers tightening. He pulled his hand back, looking at his thumb. "Victoria... whose blood is this?"

Pushing Oliver out of the way, I ambled to the car intending to search for any slightest details…any detail that Oliver could have missed. Just as I poked my head into the car, the first thing my eyes captured is the dry blood on the steering wheel. My hands moved on their own accord towards the steering until they touched the cold blood. Still in doubt that it belongs to my woman, I brought it closer to my face.

After about thirty seconds, Akira pulled her finger out, with a disgusted look on her face. “I didn’t feel anything besides what I’m guessing was-” She began, but was cut off when she looked at her finger, which was covered in blood, “-...saliva…” “That doesn’t look like saliva…” I replied, before reluctantly putting my own finger in her mouth for a few seconds, feeling around and taking it out just as fast. Just like Akira’s, my own finger was coated in blood as well. “Ok that’s...concerning.” Akira responded, as we both wiped our hands to get the blood off, “Where do you think that blood came from?”

Ironic. The thought dragged a dry, humorless laugh from my throat. It echoed in the sterile silence of my office, a place that smelled of lemon polish and an underlying decay. My vision was now swimming on the edge of a crimson haze, each blink more laborious than the last. My hands trembled uncontrollably, and I curled them into fists, nails digging into my palms—useless pain that did nothing to steady me. Then it hit me: Bloodmatch. The name pressed against my consciousness like a shadow that refused to lift, a curse and a promise all at once—dangerous, illicit, irresistibly seductive.

Dorothy was very upset when she unexpectedly ran into Melanie. She would never forget what Julian did to the Gibson family. Even if a long time had passed since then, she was still riled up when she saw one of the Zieglers. In fact, she was so angry that she accidentally pricked her finger on the edge of the metal display rack. Blood immediately gushed out and dropped to the floor. Dorothy quickly took pieces of tissue and put pressure on her finger. She even pulled out her hemostatic medication and popped it into her mouth, deathly afraid that something bad might happen.

His fingers go to touch his cheek, “you have blood on your face.” I quickly swat at my cheek in the same spot his fingers grazed his own face. I have no idea if I got it off or it’s still there, staining my skin. It doesn’t help that my hands are covered in blood either. “I think I just took a wrong turn somewhere.” I refuse to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The red splotchy elephant. The ‘Where did all this blood come from’ elephant.

"I am so sorry... Can you please clean it?" He requested and she nodded. Brothers clenched their jaws when according to them some low life ordered their mate. And what angered them more is serenity was following it like a servent. She knelt down with to collect glasses. But as soon she touched glass it made deep cut in her finger. Her blue blood dropped on the floor and she quickly wrapped it with handkerchief. "What is this?... Is it your blood?" The same student who dropped glass asked looking at horrified.

I'm sure we can- The sound of something crushing distracted me, suddenly my hands felt wet, I lowered my head looking at the cup I was holding, or the one I had previously held. My hands were covered in a dark brown and red liquid, several pieces of porcelain stuck in my palms. I stared at my hands in horror, I didn't even feel the pain. I carefully picked up every bit that stuck in my palm and threw it in the trash. I wash my hands until they are clean again then dry them with a soft towel. Blood was still flowing slightly from his open wound, now sticking to the towel.

My plants knocked over, soil spilled like dark stains across the tiles. And right there in the middle of the chaos— blood. Dried. Dark. A small patch near the counter. I wasn't sure if that had been mine or my attackers. I don't think I wanted to find out. I stood frozen for a second, staring at it. My throat went dry. It wasn’t much. Just a smear, like someone had scraped a hand or dragged something heavy across the floor. Still, my stomach twisted. I didn't know the struggle was this bad. But how could I have known?

As I stepped back, something caught my eye. There was a red smear on the kitchen island, just beside the microwave. I frowned and moved closer. It wasn’t barbecue sauce or ketchup, but it was something else. My stomach twisted as I reached out and touched it with the tip of my fingers. It was still wet. Was that... blood? I scanned the counter, my eyes following a faint trail that started beside the microwave and led downward. My heart was kicking against my ribs as I stepped around the island and looked at the floor.