Bed Bug Blood Stains On Pillow Novels & Stories

"You're acting weird." "I'm not acting. I am weird," he deadpanned, then added casually, "By the way... what happened to your neck?" She blinked. "Uh, b-bed bugs?" He tilted his head slightly. "Are you sure? Bed bugs don't usually leave marks like that." Her blood ran cold. Heat rushed up to her face. He smirked before he took another sip of coffee. She turned away immediately, nearly dropping her mug. Holy crap. It wasn't a bug bite.

What the hell? I watched in horror as a massive swarm of tiny, crawling bedbugs swarmed out from the mattress, scattering across the white sheets. I scrambled out of the bed so fast I knocked my laptop straight onto the floor. I slapped every single light switch on, my skin crawling with pure violation. The old mattress the landlord provided was completely infested. "No. No no no–" I picked up my phone and called the landlord. He picked up on the fifth ring sounding deeply unbothered for a man whose building had an active infestation.

He had just passed his bed, when something caught his eyes , making Oliver stop in his tracks and quickly whip his head towards the direction of what he had seen in his peripheral view. There on the bed, lay the evidence of something he couldn’t have understood just how it was possible. “Huh?” Oliver found himself saying as he eyed the very obvious blood stain which was right in the middle of the bed, where he and Kayla had made love. There was no way…It couldn’t be… Fuck.! One more look at his bed to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, and he was out the door, before he even realized what he was doing.

Because then I would have to face just how low I had stooped in the name of revenge. Then I looked at the bed. And everything inside me broke. The duvet was gone. The sheets twisted, tangled, like she had fought against something… someone. And the blood— God—It covered almost everywhere on one side of the bed, soaked through everything. The pillow. The mattress. So much of it that it didn’t even look real. Stark red against the white bedding, like a crimson accusation stabbing at me. My stomach dropped, hollow and sick. I staggered forward a step without meaning to.

Beside it, dark symbols smeared into the wood with sticky blood. And a shallow metal bowl, the bottom crusted black. I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. “What… what is that doing under my bed?” Pelin gagged audibly, one hand clamped over her mouth. “That stench—ugh—it’s like burnt iron. Aziz, what the hell is this?” He didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched, his hand closing around the feather so tightly the quill cracked. Then he looked at us, something unreadable burning behind his eyes.

And just like that, she was gone, again. Slowly, I sat on the edge of the bed, still naked and heart pounding. The room felt too still and too quiet. Like it was holding its breath. Then I saw a stain, right there on the floor, near the foot of the bed. It was dark red. It hadn’t been there before. I crawled closer, my stomach twisting. Blood? Wine? I touched it with trembling fingers. It smeared, sticky and slightly… sweet? My breath hitched.

I was the only one who had ever been able to smell it. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Slowly, I crouched and lifted the corner of my pillow, raising it above the bed, and my heart fell into my stomach as I dropped the pillow and scrambled back as fast as I could. There it was… the exact thing I feared. A minor, dark-scaled bug curled tightly in the shadows, hidden under my pillow and close to my bedframe. Its body pulsed faintly, as if breathing. A venomous mountain crawler, one that should never be near civilization, let alone inside a royal chamber.

But the smell of damp earth and metal was stronger here. And then, he saw it. On his white bedsheet, right on the pillow he usually slept on, there was a mark. Not a footprint. But a strange mark, like a large, loose claw print, made of soil and dry grass, as if something that had just walked out of the woods had climbed straight onto his bed. Siron walked closer, unable to believe what he was seeing. He froze by the bedside, staring at the dirt mark staining his pillow. Then, something moved behind him.

“Yes, two guys went into the house with a dragon tattoo on their neck; they were inside for about thirty minutes, nothing unusual except for those tattoos.” “Thank you for your time.” He waits until the guy walks back inside and opens the door using a credit card, an old trick he learned off the internet. Upon entering the house, he notices the pillows are scattered on the floor and a cup of tea standing there, three-quarters full. Going into the bedroom, he notices the bed is still a mess, and to his surprise, he sees Tiffany's bag has been thrown out as if someone has been scratching through their things. He walks to the closet and sees a bloodstain on a blue dress hanging over the cupboar

Clothes were scattered haphazardly across the floor, prompting a frown. “Where the hell did she go, leaving this place such a mess?” he muttered under his breath. He took another step forward, but then stopped cold. "Vincent," Kingsley called from behind him. 'Look at this." Vincent followed Kingsley’s gaze, his eyes landing on the headboard. A dark stain stood out against the wood, deepening his frown. “What’s this?” he muttered, running his fingers over the stained area. His hand came away slightly sticky.