Are Old Blood Stains Permanent Novels & Stories

I wetted the cotton and wipe the tear stain and the mascara remains. My pants are stained with blood when I inspect my buttock, the realization almost knocks me out of my breath. Just how am I suppose to face Liam? Did he see it? Or is it possible he turns blind for a nanosecond? Shit! Shit! shit! He'll probably know I have my periods!!!! Kill me, please!!!

It didn't take him long to realize that bloodstains were the problem. These stains look as if they were sprayed close and with a lot of speed. That's exactly how it is. Analyzing it in the lab, I don't think I need to tell you that it's a 100% match with Lucy's DNA. In other words, the blow was so strong that matter from the brain tissue as well as pureblood spilled with great speed on Sarah's blouse. It sprinkled it on our understanding. Gentlemen, we are facing indisputable proof that Sarah Johnson is indeed Lucy Sinclair's killer.

As I leant down to refill it, I noticed the bloodstain from the previous day on my shirt. I grimaced and held it out to examine as I frowned. It was fully dry and I stood no chance of removing the stain but I could at least try to get some of the crusty blood off. So I walked down the stream a little until I was out of sight of the patrol and took my shirt off before I began soaking the patch with the stain it in the water. I tried scrubbing and rinsing and squeezing but whatever I did the vibrant red remained. "Good luck getting that out," Alpha River said with a laugh.

The haze of it feels like it’s going to stay. But I’m wrong. As I drape one arm over his shoulders, watching him lick my juices off his fingers, I notice something strange that even the lights can’t hide. A stain on his shirt sleeve. Blood. Fresh blood.

Dark coffee stains spread across the front where Emma had unleashed her righteous fury, and now fresh, darker stains of Elara's blood marked the cuffs and jacket. I couldn't see Vivian like this. I couldn't appear before her looking like I'd just emerged from a territorial skirmish. The last thing I wanted was to frighten her or add even a flicker more distress to her already burdened heart. I ducked into a deserted healer's annex washroom, normally used by off-duty staff. The water from the tap ran bitingly cold against my skin as I frantically tried to scrub the stains from my jacket and shirt. My hands were clumsy with the unfamiliar task. Alpha Kings, especially those who led organizatio

Again. The hell? I started pulling more clothes out, tossing them on the bed one by one. A weird pattern was forming—and not the fun, aesthetic kind. It was all the same strange whiteish, chalky-looking stain. Rough in texture. Faintly discolored. Like something had... soaked in and dried completely. I stepped back and stared at the pile, heart thudding faster with every second. It didn’t look like lotion. Didn’t feel like lotion. And unless all my clothes had collectively decided to develop eczema, this was getting very concerning.

That saved me the trouble of wasting precious time trying to cover my tracks. Or rather... The third-floor hallway wasn't clean at all. The sticky residue coating the floor looked like blood that had accumulated over countless years. It looked like bloodstains left behind by victims who had been dragged across the floor. Perfect. The blood dripping from my injured foot blended into the old stains beneath me, making it harder to notice. From upstairs came the sound of pounding footsteps mixed with the rhythmic clang of a hammer striking metal. I quickly slipped into the nearest room I could find.

I heard one of the men shout from upstairs. Another voice echoed from the back. “Nothing here, sir.” “No one.” I refused to believe it, they had to be here. I have the best tracking team and it definitely can’t be a mixup. I walked deeper into the building, refusing to accept another dead end. That’s when something caught my attention. A stain, dark brown against the grey concrete. At first, I thought it was old paint, then I looked closer and realized it wasn’t paint, It was blood.

I had come to assess the room before returning to the My eyes moved again to the rough sheets on the bed, and to my horror, there was a stain of blood right at the center of the bed. It wasn't that noticeable but it was quite obvious when viewed from a closer angle. I couldn't believe a part of Derrick was still left in the room, and if I hadn't seen it, David might've noticed the stain on the day of his arrival.

Her eyes were straining so hard, looking for a sign, and numerous times her overheated imagination interpreted a smashed berry or a bit of mud as a sinister bloodstain. But this time it was a bloodstain. A very clear splash of blood, not bright red anymore but a rusty brown, on one of the thick poison ivy leaves. It was too high to be a random bit of dirt, and there had been no rain in the last couple of days so it wasn’t mud. Lauren put her face as close to the stain as she dared. Yes, it’s definitely blood. She thought she could smell a sharp copper remnant underneath the scent of greenery. And there was something about the stain, too, something . . .