Novel & Cerita Blood Sign With Fingers

I froze. There was something wrong. Something violated. Tender. Marked. My fingers trembled as I slid them beneath the sheets, down between my legs. My breath caught. The sensation was raw, the skin there swollen and sticky with dried fluids. Some patches had a crusted texture that was unmistakably blood. I pulled my hand back. Crimson specks clung to my fingers like some cursed reminder. I didn’t cry. Nor did I Didn’t scream. Instead, I smirked.

I wiped the tears from my eyes with a furious hand, staring down at my wrist. I touched the soft skin with my fingertips, tracing the cobalt veins beneath. There was no festering wound, that ached it oozed dark blood, nor a scarlet sickle etched into my skin.

The copper smell of my blood fills the air while my blood oozes out of my hand and drips onto the white sheets. As he brings her finger to my hand, he mutters, “Let’s see if this work.” Anger bubbles up within me. I’m so glad he thinks of this as some crazy experiment. One I didn’t agree to participate in. He presses her bloody finger against my cut, and I find myself looking on, curious to see what will happen. Warmth fills my hand, along with a slight tingle. I tilt my head and stare at my hand. My father slides her warm, soft finger across my sliced palm again, spreading more of her blood over it.

My body trembled violently, my fingers twitching as if they still felt the warmth of what I had done. The scent of blood was thick, pungent, and metallic, clinging to my skin like a curse I could never wash away. I forced myself to look down. My hands. They were covered in it. Crimson painted every ridge, every trembling knuckle, smeared up my arms, streaked across my bare skin in jagged, grotesque strokes. It dripped from my fingers onto the floor, forming tiny pools that reflected the flickering torchlight. What have I done?

She couldn't go around dreaming up false hope. Indianna shook her head and headed towards the stairs. She rubbed the back of neck and gasped as there was suddenly a jolt of pain, similar to pain she had felt before. Indianna yanked her hand back and her eyes widened when she saw scarlet red on her finger tips. Blood.

Blood dripped off of his fingers. Shana rushed over to him. "I'm fine," said Dennis softly. She grabbed a napkin and pressed it to his injured hand. "Let me see that," said Shana calmly. "You will go eventually, "said Dennis as he looked up at Shana sadly. "What's happening?" asked Shana frantically wiping the blood off of his hand. "It's nothing, really" replied Dennis placing the bloody hand under the sink. Shana shook her head stubbornly. "Don't give me that shit" muttered Dennis frustrated as he turned to face her.

He gave a disapproving look as he took in the blood on My fingers. “All in my office, now.”

he responds as he tightens his grip on my hand, making me wince as a tiny blade from his ring pierces my finger, letting blood ooze. Esther was right. They are suspecting me—

Sera My knuckles ached with a dull, heavy pulse. I looked down at my hands. The skin across my knuckles was completely split. Thick, dark blood coated my fingers, dripping slowly onto the packed dirt. It wasn't my blood. I stepped off Taya. My boots squelched in the mud we had created from frost and sweat.

She knew I wasn’t playing as she nodded and sat down immediately without arguments, then I looked straight at her. “You know whose blood this is?” I asked in a direct tone as she looked from the red in my fingertips to my eyes, she couldn’t see me being the murder-y kind. Yeah, me too. But here we were. “No,” she shook her head as I sighed and leaned forward, taking a folded handkerchief from the table between us before pulling back to clean the crevices of my fingers. The red stuff was irking me out.