Accidentally Touched Dried Blood Mga Nobela at Kwento

He afterwards went inside the wash room in order to wash his hands. Just as the door slammed behind him, Max came towards the basin to get some hand wash but at the same time, his eyes caught the sight of her blood that were coating his fingertips. Max raised his hands till the height of his face and have them a view. The blood had dried up. It hardly made a drop of the liquid.

I didn't notice it before I went to take a bath. I looked around to make sure it wasn't a maid who knocked it down or something. My hair was still wet and dripping with water as I bent down and picked up the broken pieces. One glass scratched my finger tip so deep that a few blood dropped on the floor. I licked the blood out, healing it instantly..Then began to turn the photo over, something about it drew me closer to her. Then, the door burst open… “Ah!!” I screamed, dropping the photo while I covered my pussy with both hands.

I checked to see what was wrong only to find my dress stained with blood. He sprang up from my legs, and just as I tried to touch him, he coughed hard again, spilling a mouthful of blood on the floor. I reached out to his shoulder. Was it still the poison or some other thing?

Nothing at all. I forced my eyes to scan the area once again. I had no idea what I was searching for, but I just knew I would know. Barely seconds after the thought had registered itself in my mind, something caught my attention. It was blurry at first, but then I saw it. Blood. Splattered across the ground in erratic patterns, almost as if the people involved had struggled for a while. It's metallic scent hit me square in the nose, and I saw it was streaked across the driver’s side door. It was still wet too.

Something drips after a sudden splatter and I wipe my hand across my face, blinking my eyes open. Blood. Red and ozzing, falls atop me and I jump when something falls just to the side of where I laid.

The first thing I saw made me reel back and cover my mouth to stop myself from throwing up all over the floor. Blood. Dried blood. Christ!

It also didn’t help that my reflexes are near non-existent. With a whimper, I scramble to my hunches, crouching on the balls of my feet as my hands instinctively come up to cup my face. A viscous red liquid stains my fingers. I feel it gush down my nostrils and drip down my chin and neck, before seeping into the front of my shirt, quickly staining the top of the faded beige-colored sweater a bright red. In my mouth, I taste the metallic quality of my own blood and as I tentatively touch my nose, the resulting sharp pain actually brings tears to my eyes, making me once again release another pitiful whimper.

I glanced down at my shoes and immediately regretted it. There was something on the toe of my sneaker that I was ninety percent sure was puke. I tried to wipe it against the curb, which only smeared it in a way that somehow made it worse. Fantastic. I reached up to scratch my head and my fingers brushed against something sticky in my hair. I pulled my hand back slowly. Dried blood. I stared at my fingers. “Great,” I muttered under my breath. Typical.

But the ground was trembling so violently that the glass vial slipped from my hand and crashed on the floor, breaking into pieces and spilling her blood. I let out a short scream of frustration and bent down, trying to use my finger to dab up the blood. I managed to get more of the blood on my finger and quickly stood up to press it against the glass that had reappeared. But when I pressed my skin against the glass, I realized I had made a big mistake—some of the broken glass from the vial had gotten stuck on my finger and when I touched the glass, it pierced through my skin, causing my own blood to flow and press on the glass instead.

he replied softly. He lifted the cloth to my cheek, brushing away the dried blood and dirt. His movements were careful, slow. I sucked in a sharp breath. He rinsed the cloth, the water turning faintly pink and brown, then lifted it again. Again and again, he pressed the damp fabric to my skin, wiping away the evidence of what had happened.