Novel & Cerita Blazing Stitches

"I'm good. The stitching shouldn't be too bad. Just get it done. I want to get off this granite slab." Raphael nodded. He got the suture kit out, laid it out just so. Before he got started, he wiped away all the blood off his brother's leg. Switched into a clean pair of gloves. "Don't move your leg. I like my stitches neat," Raphael declared, a threaded needle poised over Massimo's leg. Massimo nodded. "Just make it fast." Raphael nodded, took the first stitch. I had to look away at that point. I didn't mind cutting into flesh, but the whole needle thing threw me off. Made my belly twist and turn.

All this time, my eyes laid on the gun in his hand. The sound of my dress tearing apart snapped me out of my thoughts. My head hung low, spotting the front portion completely teared apart, my stomach was facing the cold air of this room. Tears pricked from the corner of my eyes, not in pain but in fear of watching my threat, becoming true. Azrael smirked, watching the fear growing my eyes. My breathing staggered when his fingers caressed over my stomach, whispering something dramatically, " 3 stitches from C-section. I think, this evidence can never vanish."

Precise. The second faster. By the third, her body had taken over. Motion. Instinct. Steel slicing through air in clean arcs. She focused on the rhythm. On the feel of the blade. On anything that wasn’t the storm in her head. Faster. Harder. Again. Again. Again. Her breathing grew heavier, but she didn’t stop. Didn’t want to. Because the moment she did… She’d start thinking again. And she wasn’t sure she could handle that right now.

It burned like fire. She screamed, her body jerking. The thread pulled tight, each stitch a fresh stab. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with blood and water. Her head pounded, waves of hurt crashing over her. She bit her lip to stop the cries, but sobs escaped anyway. The doctor worked fast, no words of comfort. Ten stitches, maybe more. Each one felt like it tore her apart inside.

Whatever you do, do NOT pass out! Squeezing the jagged cut together the best I can with one trembling hand while trying to adhere the butterfly stitch proves to be nearly impossible and agonizing. Sweat beads across my brow as I carefully placed the last strip of a butterfly stitch over the seam of the bloody wound. It's still bleeding a little, but no longer gaping open on the side of my arm.

My lips are swollen, slick with spit and him, and my throat burns like it’s been scoured raw. Only when I taste the salt of my own tears on my lips do I realize I’ve been crying the whole time, silent and helpless, like a doll forced into obedience. But Blaze isn’t finished with me. “Your hands now,” he orders calmly as though he’s simply giving me instructions in table manners. His large hand wraps around mine, guiding my trembling fingers to his length, slick with my spit. It’s still hard and still pulsing. “Grip tighter,” he murmurs, moving me like I’m nothing but an extension of his own body. “Not too much. Firm pressure. Stroke slow…yes. Like this.”

I muttered into the helmet. I went full throttle. The bike surged beneath me, turning the world into a blur of gray asphalt and chrome. I became a needle threading a haystack, weaving between cars with surgical precision while the cruisers got choked out behind a wall of semi-trucks. I glanced back just once to see them fading in the distance, trapped and raging, and tossed a one-fingered farewell over my shoulder before disappearing into the horizon. ———————————————————————————————————————

Anita was grateful that the wound wasn't large because she noticed, just like with his hands, the toughness of Blake's skin, which caused her to use more strength than usual to suture his wound. From the corner of her eyes, she saw how intently Andrew and the three goons were looking at her hands curiosity and focus written on their face, "this first loop that I created is called the first throw, I have two more throws to create then I will start the process over again as I work my way down". Anita spoke as she used this time to teach as she continued along with her surgery because she could see that Andrew and the rest, except for Samantha, were showing interest in what she was doing.

I ask trying to sound as brave as I can despite my pumping heart. "Stop talking!" He growls crawling closer to me on my bed. "Noooo!!! Please stop!!" I scream out loudly as the blade shines brightly the moment he raises it up ready to stab me. "Noooooooooo!!!" I jolted up immediately my heart thrumming against my chest erratically. My clothes were soaked in sweat and a sheer of sweat forming on my forehead. My eyes cleared up from their blurry state and that was when I noticed that, that was just another one of my nightmares.