Bleeding Blade Cut On Skin Novels & Stories

My eyes fall on the floor, where everything is scattered that are on the basin space. And I fall on my knees. As my hands go through the scattered things on the floor and rest on a shaving blade. I bring the blade to me as I touch it, and its sharp edge cuts the skin of my finger as blood drops on the floor from the wound, and I watch it. I watch the blood drop on the floor with all the calmness in the world as my lips curve a little, and I stand on my feet and drag my body to the shower room with the blade in my palm.

I asked frigidly, staring into the bathroom through the open door, though I couldn't see her. "No," she replied, and I sat up. "What happened?" "I was shaving and unintentionally cut myself." "Are you bleeding?" "Yes." "Do you need help? Is it a deep cut you can't heal?" "It's deep, and it'll take a twenty four hours to heal." "You should have told me to do it for you, you know rapidly your belly is growing. I'm coming over." "No, don't worry, I'll do it myself." "Are you sure you won't bleed to death?"

Two doctors hold on to her as her heartbeat begins dropping. I scan her slender back fast, and that is when I see it, a dark patch forming beneath her skin just below her shoulder blade. “I need a knife and a cloth!” I exclaim. “Get a bowl ready now!” They move fast, and someone passes me a knife. With one hand, I hold the cloth beneath the part, and with the other hand, I make a quick incision. Blackened blood, thick due to being partially frozen, begins leaking out and I wipe it up.

Before I could react, it sank into the underside of my leg, and something seeped into my bloodstream through the wound. The crowd gasped. I landed lightly on my right leg and hanged my left leg in the air, to lessen the pain. Blood trickled steadily from the cut. Clement burst into maniacal laughter. “I told you to brace yourself, didn't I?” He jeered, his laughter echoing. “The moment the sharp edge touches your skin, it sears into a crisp, and your blood will draw out the poison straight from the blade's edge.” He grinned smugly.

There's no way that one little stab would have been enough to cause much damage. His eyes were wide as he stared at me, fear taking over his face. "What did you do?" "I, I didn't do anything." I shook my head and looked down at the tiny blade still wrapped in my fingers. "What was on that blade!" Still shaking my head in confusion, I looked back up at Clyde as blue blood started pouring out of the small gash between his ribs, his skin wrinkling like a human's when they stay in the water too long. Color and life were quickly leaving his body in front of me.

"This is worse than just a graze." "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well, it looks like someone slashed you with a knife. You have a laceration about three inches in length. The bullet cut through tissue and scraped an external oblique muscle. Not extremely bad, but you will need to take it easy. I'll send an RN to wash that out with some saline, and I'll be back to stitch you up." "Okay."

He remembered Sheila saying that he was dangerous but just how dangerous could he be, and how? He bent down and picked up a knife, he studied the blade, twisting the weapon in his hands. He was a mixed blood; that information kept ringing in his head repeatedly. He brought the sharp side of the blade to his open palm and sliced into his skin deep. He pursed his lips tightly to keep himself from voicing out in pain. He looked at his bloodied palm, he felt the stinging pain but it did not last for very long before it totally subsided. His palm was still bloody but he did not feel any pain any more. Grabbing a bottle of water, he rinsed the blood off of his hand and stared wide eyed at his smoo

The blade is serrated, and I notice three notches missing as I bend down closer to look at it. “Fucking shit.” I mutter. “What?” a healer asks. “Serrated. And it’s damaged.” My heart sinks, thinking there may be loose silver pieces lingering in his now gushing neck wound. He takes his gloved hand and grabs the blade, moving closer to the light to get a better look at it.

"He's just a man. A very large, very arrogant man." ​Shhhk. ​My hand slipped. ​It happened so fast I didn't even have time to gasp. The freshly sharpened, razor-thin edge of the carbon steel blade sliced deeply across the palm of my left hand. ​A sharp, searing pain shot up my arm. I dropped the knife. It clattered loudly against the wooden counter. ​Dark red blood instantly welled up, spilling over my skin and dripping heavily onto the pristine wooden cutting board. ​Before I could even grab a towel to stop the bleeding, a sound erupted from outside that froze the blood in my veins.

A pulse of something monstrous, familiar, alive. But no. Even that’s gone. My fingers tighten on the knife, slicing through the zucchini like it owes me something. My jaw aches from clenching. My eyes sting for no reason. Then—slip. The blade nicks my skin. It’s not deep. But it bleeds. A thin line of red rises across my knuckle. I stare at it, half waiting for it to close up like it always used to. For the skin to stitch itself together with a hiss and a flash of heat.