Accidentally Touched Dried Blood Novels & Stories

I carefully tiptoed around the kitchen to get the broom and dustpan, then tiptoed out of the kitchen to get the mop and a rug. “Are you okay?” Russo asked as he saw me limping around the house “Yeah, I am good.” I quickly answered without looking at him. I assumed his and my father’s conversation was over because my dad started to walk away and head to his bedroom. I limped back to the kitchen with the mop and Russo staring at me. I knew exactly what his eyes were so fixated on, but my goal was to clean the mess in the kitchen. “Oh my, you’re bleeding!” he practically screamed as he turned his focus to the blood drops on the floor.

Rook barked, his hand flying toward his waistband. I reached up, my fingers trembling slightly as I touched the skin just below my cheekbone. It felt hot and wet. I pulled my hand away and looked at my fingertips. Bright, crimson blood smeared my skin. "Someone's here," I whispered, the celebratory roar of the room suddenly sounding very far away.

His fingers twitched weakly against the floor before slowly dragging toward my shirt, clutching it like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “Hurts…” he whispered, breath uneven. His eyes fluttered again…… “I know.” I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm. Panicking wouldn’t help him. “Where? Where are you hurt?” His lips parted, but no clear answer came—just a strained breath that made my stomach twist. Shit. I quickly scanned his body again, this time more carefully. The blood was dried and clung to his skin; there was too much of it. It stained his shirt, dark and spreading, but I couldn’t immediately tell where it was coming from.

My anger was ignited. I desperately pushed him away. "Go away. I don't want you. I only want my children!" "Don't move around. Be careful of the backflow of the IV drip," Derek reminded. I lowered my head and glanced at the end of the intravenous tube on the back of my hand, which was unexpectedly stained with blood. There was already a backflow. I tore off the tape, pulled out the syringe, and splattered a large amount of blood. The white bedsheet suddenly had a few touches of red, which was rather eye-catching.

The previous ones were not my illusions. I pursed my lips and ignored her. Katherine uttered a snorting laugh. Then she raised her chin arrogantly and said, "Cindy, let's go!" After everyone left, I slowly extended my right hand, which had been held behind me all along, and a long bloodstain appeared in the palm of my hand. The wound continued to bleed profusely. Just now, I accidentally pressed my right hand onto the broken pieces of porcelain on the ground.

My fingers tremble, but I walk back and kneel beside him. I touch his skin lightly. He stirs but does not wake. His breathing remains steady. I gently dab at the dried blood, tracing the faint cuts along his ribs. Not too deep, but enough to leave bruises. I wonder how many times he has walked away from worse with no one waiting to tend to him. No one waiting to say, You are safe now.

"I mistakenly punched the ground when dealing with him, I didn't even know he had turned his face around." "Oh, so sorry about that tho." I cleaned it up, and proceeded to wash the blood on my hands away, before going to cover the wound up. After washing my hands thorougly, i took a cup to drink water from the tap, while i was at it, i heard a loud "fuck" that startled me, making me pour the water on my chest. "What's wrong? " I asked, as panic was laced in my voice. "Nothing, just that I accidentally touched the open wound." He replied, looking at his hands.

My injury, I was already forgetting about him. Maybe by instinct or complete stupidity, while walking I ended up touching my injured hand several times against my dress, in this way, he had also gotten dirty with blood. A large amount flowed, unlike when I was still inside the party. I stopped walking, already near the main gate, still having my bag on my shoulders, while pressing my hands in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

I am feeling thirsty, swinging my legs off the bed, I slide into my Silk robe and venture barefoot into the kitchen. After I have a glass of water, I move to the sink, wash the glass and put it away. But then I noticed a plate of yesterday's leftover bread next to the kitchen rack. I try to reach for it, But then I accidentally knock it down and it falls onto the floor, shattering violently into pieces. when I bend down to collect all the pieces, my fingers get cut by the sharp edge of the broken _ bleeding. “ouch!” I hiss as the pain shoots up my hand.

Or maybe I’m just scared. Either way, I decide to pick up a long fallen branch to have something to defend myself. But as I pick it up, my fingers come into contact with something cold and wet. I release the branch, startled. I hold up my hand to the light and see the bright red liquid covering my fingertips. Blood. My knees suddenly go weak. I back away from the branch but I end up colliding against a tree. I whimper and stagger away from it, but splinters and shrapnel stick to my robe, because the tree is covered in scratches.