Bleeding After A Shot Mga Nobela at Kwento

His eyes were stilled and couldn't make a move. How pity, because of the moment he was about to carry me away, one of his teammates shot him in his back. It produced a tiny sound but sounded life-threatening. It was a small needle packed with a blinking object in red at the upper tip. But unlike what happened to Lance, no blood comes outside from my doctor's mouth. From that perspective, maybe that wasn't deadly. I guess?

I ordered, as my gaze moved between the stats and the bleeding. Slowly his stats started to improve and there wasn’t nearly as much blood as there had been. Releasing the air, I had been holding, I held out my other hand and asked for the clamps. With the bleeding now under control, I was able to see that it had been a blown blood vessel, nothing that I couldn’t easily repair.

Ben whined. “Oh, stop being babies. It’s one shot. It won’t kill you.” “Are you sure?” Baylee asked, standing on her chair to sniff mine. “’Cause this doesn’t seem natural.” “Just drink the damn thing!” Vincent barked. Groaning, we all downed it in one gulp. I nearly vomited it back up but forced it down with a swig of scalding coffee, hoping to burn the taste out of my mouth. “Once you guys get shot, your body will react how it normally would—your heart will stop instantly. You’ll pass out,” Vincent said.

Blood leaked rapidly from the wound and pooled around my body. What the fuck happened in the last five seconds? Someone shot me in my left shoulder with an arrow. Another wave of dizziness hit me and the next second my legs gave out and I lay in my pool of blood. Bleeding out into the forest.

I do not think. I raise my weapon, fingers trembling, heart pounding within my chest. I shoot. The bullet slices through the air, striking the man in the chest before he manages to pull the trigger. He falters backward, his weapon falling from his grip as he drops down to the earth. Raymond pivots, his gaze connecting with mine. For a brief instant, all comes to a halt. Then- A sudden pain erupts in my side. I gasp, the ground shifting as I stagger backwards. My body is tingling, but soon the agony spreads, searing through me like flames. I gaze downward. Crimson drips onto my shirt, hot and heavy, gathering in my palm as I apply pressure to the injury.

It was a long drive through the desert and hospitals were something that not many of them were willing to do for obvious reasons. “Shower first,” Blake said, bending his head to assess the bleeding. “No. This one.” He pointed to a nasty series of bite wounds that started high up on his neck and ended on his shoulder. How he hadn’t had his jugular torn out was beyond him. Skill, maybe, but more like luck. “This one needs to be stitched. It’s deep. It’s bleeding.”

The machine clicks, capturing images to check for further internal damage. The bullet caused some significant damage. It tore through muscle tissue, causing extensive bleeding and bruising around the entry point. Luckily, it missed any major arteries, which prevents immediate life-threatening blood loss. There’s a noticeable tear in the flesh that Doctor Grey carefully examines to determine the extent of muscle impairment. Upon reaching the internal organs, the bullet narrowly avoided the lungs, sparing them from direct harm. However, it created a painful shockwave effect that slightly bruised one of the lungs, likely to cause difficulty in breathing for a short duration.

My jaw clenched at the sudden prickling ache. Why spoil the moment? She gave me a questioning look, and soon her eyes went down to my abdomen—the area I was bleeding from. The blood had seeped generously into my white shirt, leaving a large blotch of crimson. "You're bleeding," she said, panic rising in her voice. I looked down at my shirt with an impassive expression, then shrugged like it was nothing. "I'm wounded. I was involved in a fight." "You were holding a gun," she pointed out.

Her body jerked violently, and tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks as trembling whimpers escaped her with every movement I made. I could barely stand the sight of her bleeding so much, but I forced myself to continue. My hands shook while I carefully used the scissors to remove the bullet, praying I wouldn’t make the injury worse. The moment it finally came out, I quickly cleaned the wound with betadine before tightly wrapping it with bandages to stop the bleeding. By the time I finished, Claire was breathing heavily, exhausted, and trembling from the pain. Tears still clung to her lashes as she slowly leaned her back against the wall behind her.

"The bullet just grazed you. Superficial tissue damage. No arterial involvement. No muscle damage. No nerve damage." Lucky. That word again. I'd been shot and she was calling me lucky. But she was right. An inch to the right and I'd be dead. An inch down and Charlotte might have been hit. "It's going to hurt for a while," the doctor continued, applying antibiotic ointment. "And you'll have a scar. But with proper care, it should heal completely in a few weeks." She wrapped my arm in clean white bandages. Professional. Efficient. "Any dizziness? Nausea? Blurred vision?"