Novel & Cerita Bleed Just To Know Your Alive

I could almost laugh. But as I reached the edge of the woods, I knew I had to sell this. I took a deep breath, steeling myself, then dragged a broken nail down my palm, hard enough to draw blood. The sharp sting made me wince, but I bit back the pain. I smeared the blood across my uniform, my cheek, even streaked a bit in my hair. Perfectly messy. A survivor. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I forced my eyes to well up with tears, letting my lips quiver as I stumbled forward, screaming, “Hailey! Help! Help!”

“Oh, Selene, reach over there and grab that cup of ice please.” Mama does as she asks. She carefully gives me a few pieces of ice. “Be careful, don’t bite, just suck on them. We don’t want you to choke.” The doctor says. I nod and follow as she says. “You’ve been out a couple of days. You had some internal bleeding that needed to be fixed but you’re all better now.” The doctor explains. I can feel a little moisture in my throat so I ask, “Did I die?” “Yes. You did.” Evelyn answers bluntly.

I bit down on a scream, sliding down the wall until I was sitting on the cold tile floor, clutching my bleeding hand to my chest. Tears blurred my vision, but I forced myself to stay awake. “Come on,” I whispered hoarsely. “Come on, Joe. You wanted a show. Here it is.” Blood pooled beneath me, and my hand throbbed in time with my heart, every beat a reminder that I was still alive. I pressed my bleeding hand harder against my chest, smearing blood across my clothes, and across my skin. I tilted my head back against the wall, letting my eyes flutter half-closed, just enough to look weak and broken.

“But you’re not. You’re here. You’re alive. And right now, that’s the only thing you need to focus on.” Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t know if it was pain or fear or both, but my body started to tremble. “You don’t understand. People think I’m dead. My best friend… she’s grieving. They probably had a funeral. I need to let them know I’m okay.”

The air burned as it rushed into my lungs, my chest rising violently as if I’d been underwater for years. My eyes flew open, the tears spilling instantly as white light flooded my vision. Everything hurt. My head throbbed badly and my throat felt dry. Then, the beeping noises followed. I sucked in another breath, then another, the panic clawing its way up my spine as my body trembled. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might burst right out of my ribs. I was alive. I was f**king alive The realization hit me all at once, so overwhelming it stole another breath from my lungs.

Mel remained still as a statue, a sweet aftertaste of the drink lingering in her mouth, along with a tingling sensation on her tongue and across her lips. Contrary to her expectations, the old man and young girl seemed unfazed by what had just transpired between them, and the old man announced in a low voice, “The earth now accepts you as one.” There was a monstrous cheer from behind the curtains, along with the heightened rise of music, and Mel jumped out of her skin, darting out of her trance. The old man eyed Mel, a pleasant look in his eyes, “Welcome to Grime, Mel Beowulf.”

How could a dead person have pushed her? However, Dad believed her. He walked over and gently wrapped his arms around Ms. Ritter. "Don't cry, I'm here. I won't let him bully you anymore," he said as he patted her back. I froze abruptly and stared at Dad in a daze. He looked at my body lying on the floor with disgust. "Since he's so determined to play dead and get out of donating blood, then I won't cover for him either. Get back every drop that was spilled—insert the needle and draw his blood again. Let's see how much longer he can keep up this act!"

I breathe, the word barely audible. The ember flares again, weak but steady. Not enough to tell me where he is, but enough to tell me he’s alive. Alive. A sound escapes my throat, half laugh, half sob. My knees nearly give out with relief, but I steady myself against the tree. He’s out there. He’s hurting, but he’s alive. I press my palm to my chest, right above the faint pulse of the bond, and whisper, “hold on, love. I’m coming.”

Doesn't take a single breath. All she does is bleed. She just bleeds.

I think about my mother, who left when I was twelve and never looked back, and I think about all the years I spent teaching myself that needing no one was the same thing as being strong. I take my hand off the door. I turn and walk back through the loggia toward the courtyard, where the sun is bleaching the white limestone and the olive trees are stirring in the wind from the sea, and I understand, with a clarity that settles into my bones like cold water finding its level, that the contract I signed in Brooklyn was never the contract I am now inside.