Novel & Cerita Blood Pooling In Fingers

Too much blood. It’s no wonder I’m so out of it- my blood is pooling on the chair beneath me and hitting the floor in a steady drip. I sink my teeth into my lower lip and try to shift around on the chair to see if there’s any way I can wriggle free of my bonds, only to realize that even the slightest movement sends a spear of pain radiating from my belly. I shudder as it burns through me, a pained whine escaping my lips.

A sudden burst of intense heat spread rapidly through my fingertips, and the skin on my palm started to tingle uncontrollably. Pulling my hands away from my head, I held my right palm flat in front of my face and stared at my fingers in complete confusion. When the heavy stream of shower water fell downward toward my outstretched hand, the clear liquid did not hit my skin normally. Instead, the running water actually curved sharply in the air, bending completely around my fingers to avoid touching my hand entirely. The water flowed in a perfect circle around my palm, defying basic gravity for several long seconds.

My eyes darted to him, heart hammering against my ribs. His hand was still outstretched from the throw, fingers flexing slightly as if he were testing their range of motion, and that's when I saw it—thin, dark lines running down the side of his palm where he'd gripped the glass too tightly before hurling it. Blood. Fresh and crimson, welling up from what looked like multiple small cuts where the crystal had bit into his skin. It dripped in uneven trails, following the natural creases of his palm, pooling briefly at the curve of his wrist before slipping free and falling to the floor in perfect, round droplets that looked almost black in the lamplight.

The next couple of photographs were of her wrists and ankles. The wrist bones were light and delicate. The skin lying over them showed no abrasions. No rope burns but there was a faint residual marking. There was a two-inch-wide band that was slightly bluer than the rest. Very slightly bluer. Almost not there at all, but perceptible and slightly swollen, compared to the rest of her forearm. Definitely raised. The exact opposite of a compression. “Found anything?” DI Silver was standing over me holding a thin file. I had been so engrossed that I hadn’t even heard him come into the room.

Long sharp claws slide out of my skin, covered in blood. What the f- I flex my fingers again, staring at bloody claws one moment, my slim, neatly cut fingers the next. My mangled arm is completely fine, not a trace of injury or blood anywhere. Was I seeing things just now? I flex my fingers once more but nothing happens, looking over my arm I don’t see any trace of a cut or anything. I must be so tired and emotionally exhausted that I’m seeing things. Sure that's the reason, I crawl into bed, sinking into the cool comfort of my comforter.

A throbbing pain on my forehead caught my attention and I moved my fingers slowly until I felt some wet liquid there. I thought it was sweat and wiped it before staring at my hand to find blood. My eyes bulged at the bright red color on my hand as my vision started getting fuzzy and blurred. Why was their blood on my forehead? The answer was standing proudly next to me as the world around me spined and the ground got closer.

It takes a great deal of effort to shift my body upwards, using the cold concrete wall at my back for leverage. My head hurts so bad. I reach behind it to identify the source of my pain and find that my hair is coated in something sticky, though it seems to be mostly dried. I pull my bound hands back in front of me, looking down at them, and I’m not at all surprised when I see dark red blood coating my fingertips. Whoever brought me here must’ve hit me in the head to knock me out. No wonder my head’s pounding like it is.

The grass felt wet between my fingers. The shot rang out and I realized the wet feeling between my fingers was blood.

It pierced my forefinger, causing blood to start flowing down the finger, tracing a path down my palm. Clenching it between my palm, I raised my left arm and placed the sharp end on the sensitive skin of my wrist. My eyes watched as the glass drew a line down the whole length of my arm. Blood peeked out of the line at first, but then, it started to pour out—hot, fresh, and dark red. I dropped to my knees, and shards pierced my skin. I didn’t care. I moved back on the floor until my back hit the wall, and then…I just rested.

That light was too pure and bright, revealing me for who I was. The filth churning inside me was something detestable and loathsome. It was so overwhelming that I did not dare to touch it. After it happened a few times, Ethan developed stomach problems. When I was not paying attention, he would endure the pain silently with his brows tightly furrowed. He was too afraid to let me find out and never told me. It was not until one morning, after staying up all night to care for me, that he fainted from the pain at his office. That was when I realized just how severe his condition had become.