Blood Pooling In Arms Novels & Stories

“I need to create a tourniquet fast on this stab wound. You’re losing too much blood, and I fear they hit an artery.” He pulls his shirt off, and it’s impossible not to admire his muscled body and dark tattoos that spread down his arms and to the left of his chest, even while I’m bleeding out, or perhaps it’s because I am bleeding out since it’s making me a little light-headed and dizzy.

Dried blood was on both her ankles and her wrists. She couldn’t stand as she was feeling pins and needles in all of her extremities, I waited until she felt she could stand. She quickly sat back down again feeling dizzy. Removing my t-shirt, I cautiously lifted her arms so I could put the t-shirt on her. It would fall to her knees and cover her up modestly. Still bothered by not being able to smell her, I pull her up into my arms and nuzzle her neck softly.

I struggle to take one step but I feel a warm liquid pool at my feet and I look down to see blood rushing down my leg. This is not normal. My body gets too heavy for my legs and I drop to the ground, the last action I make before my vision totally blacks out.

Ironic. The thought dragged a dry, humorless laugh from my throat. It echoed in the sterile silence of my office, a place that smelled of lemon polish and an underlying decay. My vision was now swimming on the edge of a crimson haze, each blink more laborious than the last. My hands trembled uncontrollably, and I curled them into fists, nails digging into my palms—useless pain that did nothing to steady me. Then it hit me: Bloodmatch. The name pressed against my consciousness like a shadow that refused to lift, a curse and a promise all at once—dangerous, illicit, irresistibly seductive.

And those crazy arms, at this moment, seemed to have been summoned, desperately entangled with the door frame and wrapped around it. As a result, a creepy scene appeared. The ridiculously long pale arms, like vines, were entangled tightly. Countless fingers were squeezing and moving wildly, making people take a look at them. The hair on their throats was about to vomit. These arms were squeezed hard, making creaking sounds like steel twisting. Large amounts of blood soon piled up under the skin of the arms. Blood dripped down, flowing faster and faster, gradually forming a blood curtain. It was just a bloody screen, but the sound of raging waves came from inside.

I cried out; ‘Please! No! Stop!’. I begged, but he just ignored me, my cries and pleading only seemed to encourage him more. Against my better judgment, I looked down and was horrified by what I saw. No wonder what he was doing hurt so much, my arm was starting to turn purple and the pressure build-up was so intense, It felt like my fingers were going to explode! It continued until my whole arm, from fingertip to shoulder started to tingle with painful pins and needles.

The drops weren’t coming from the sky and I realized with a start that the blood was actually dripping down my fingertips. I raised my hands in front of my face to inspect the blood and saw that there was blood everywhere. It was running down my arm as it colored my sleeves. Confusion swarm in my mind as I tried to register why I was bleeding. The only thing I felt was cold, there was no pain.

I swear I can hear him sigh. “We were giving you IV fluids and some liquid nutrition as you were dehydrated and malnourished when you arrived. You were also low on blood and your blood platelets were low, which is probably why your blood isn’t clotting. Here.” He goes to take my arm and I instinctively jerk it back, holding it against my body.

I felt the strings of my heart tug, a familiar ache forming. He is too young to be subjected to this. Now looking up close, his upper left arm, the side of his neck, and his right ankle were covered in bandages. It did not seem big enough to cause any alarm, however, the coloration of his body was the cause of concern. HIs body had turned into the light shade of purple, the veins prominent in a very dark shade, and his face, sunken and pale. If not that I could hear the very faint sound of his heartbeat, I would assume he was dead, long dead even.

His leg buckled, and he fell backward into the pool. The water splashed over the sides, and then it began to red. He was attempting to sit up, his hands planted on the edge of the pool, but he slid back in. The blood spread out from him, slow and red, and Arya hung there, her hands shaking as she gripped the gun. She was shaking all over. Her fingers were curled around the grip, and she couldn't even breathe. Footsteps pounded behind her. "What the hell did you do?" Carlo shouted.