Bleeding Blade Cut On Skin Novels & Stories

She added furiously, seeing how the cut had turned black and was spreading gradually. “It must have been a mistake.” I managed to say through the pain I was in. A small smirk plastered on my lips as I looked at the expression on Lara’s face. Just then, a few medical staff arrived. “Come sit here..” They guided me to the bench at the corner, and began to treat my cut by disinfecting it first and I honestly couldn’t hold back my tears. It hurts so much. I intentionally cut my palm since silver has a lesser effect there. If I had touched my heart area or my flesh then, I’m as good as dead.

"I want to make cuts on you." He starts digging the pointy edge of knife deeper into my skin. "No! Please don't!! What are you doing?!" I scream in pain, it feels like my back is going numb. He glares at me and slowly sinks in the pointy edge of knife deeper and deeper in my skin, while giggling like a psychopath. I could hear the sound of my skin cutting open, hot blood spills onto my back; he drags the knife, making the cut longer. I groan in pain and cry begging him to stop but he doesn’t, it feels like he is finding this amusing. "So pretty." He leans down and licks the cut.

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.”

I brought the blade down hard. It wasn't a clean cut. The knife bit deep into the flesh just above the fingernail, striking bone. The pain was blinding, sharp and hot. Blood welled up instantly, bright crimson, dripping onto the wooden board. I grit my teeth against the agony and pulled the knife away. The tip of my finger was hanging by a flap of skin. My mother was screaming hysterically now. My dad was rushing toward me to stop the bleeding, his face a mask of paternal panic.

All these days she had been so attentive and caring that it made him fall harder for her. ... "Ouch!" Calvin finched when the sharp blade cut into his skin causing blood to pour out from beneath his jaw. He turned on the sink tap and washed his wound, examining it in the mirror. He was thinking of shaving before he begin to look like a caveman but his right hand was of no use. "Calvin, are you in there?" Blair knocked on the door. "Yes, come inside." "The soup is rea- oh God, you are bleeding." She dashed to him and touched his partly shaven face. Thankfully the cut was not very big.

The crimson liquid dripped off his fingertips and landed on the ground like an abandoned ink pen with ink cascading across the floor. He limped back to his car and wiped of the pieces of sharp glass from the broken window which were sitting onto the driver’s seat. “Ugh,” he winced as he perched down. Catching his breath, he peeled off his sleeve gently, revealing his blood-filled knife cut wound on his arms, the uneven chunks of flesh laid disorderly in the horrifying wound. The skin surrounding was red, a sharp contrast to his skin.

Nothing could be more perfect than being invincible in the face of a crime boss and his lackey that glowed yellow. Spotting a disposable shave on the sink, an idea pops up in her mind. She picks it up and drags it across her arm as hard as she can. She felt no pain, but she can feel the blade digging into her skin and drawing blood. She then turns the knobs on the sink, letting the water run and rinse through her arm. After one rinse, she pulls away and takes a closer look at her arm, expecting to see a little more bleeding, or a thin piece of skin pulling away.

“Like the ones from the box.” “Why?” I ask, still chewing my chicken. “I looked it up online and it said it would stop the bleeding.” Mason holds out his arm, showing off a nasty-looking scar on the inside of his left arm. I know enough from working in trauma to recognize a knife wound when I see one. “Please tell me you’re joking.” I set my fork down and reach for my glass of water. “It worked.” Mason runs a finger over the dark line on his arm. “And it didn’t get infected?” I ask incredulously.

Barbara growled, her eyes wild and bloodshot. "Don't do it! Barbara, please!" I pleaded, tears streaming fast down the sides of my face onto the dirty sheet. She didn't listen to a word. She pressed the blade down into my upper shoulder and started slashing my skin. The steel sliced right through my shirt, cutting deep into my skin with a burning, stinging pain. "Ahhh! Stop! Stop it!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, thrashing my torso around to get away from the blade. Blood instantly started soaking through the fabric of my top, hot and wet against my cold skin.

I didn’t react fast enough and I felt the blades pierce my flesh, tearing a scream from my lips. “Perhaps if I cut you up enough, whatever is keeping you alive will realise that you’re not worth it.” she beamed, slicing her blade down my cheek. I felt my hot blood drip down my face, scorching a path toward my neck. The blood alone raised some questions - I shouldn’t bleed like that, should I? I felt the blood drain from my face and I assessed the stab wounds on my stomach – they weren’t healing. Fear flooded me more than ever.