Blood Veins And Bandages Novels & Stories

Carl wrapped his arms around Bianca as he carried her in his arms like a newborn baby. He carried her inside their apartment gently placing her on the couch as Leah hurried to get their first aid box. Carl professionally loosened the bandage tied to Bianca’s arm as he carefully used a neat wool to clean the blood stains on her arms, he applied a methylated spirit. Bianca winced in pain as she let out a loud groan continually, the pain eating deep into her. In a matter of minutes, Carl had stopped the blood from gushing out more as he had neatly bandaged her arm using another material making sure its grip was tight even as Bianca groaned.

I had to focus on her safety, ensuring she remained unharmed amidst the turmoil. I tore a strip of fabric from my torn sleeve and hastily fashioned it into a makeshift bandage. Gently, I applied pressure to the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. Each movement sent a jolt of pain through my arm, but I gritted my teeth, determined to remain steady for her sake.

If I don’t find a way to make it stop bleeding soon, he’ll die. And I can’t face that. In my bag, I have an emergency sewing kit. I pull it out and tie a strap of fabric above the wound to slow the bleeding while I sew it up. It takes me a few tries to thread the needle, but I finally get it and dive into the innards of his arm, digging around until I find the bleeding vein.

Blood coiled through my veins and in my stomach. Why now? Why vanish now? The nurses quickly went to work. One prepared to sterilize the wounds, another grabbed poultices and stitching tools, and a third injected wolfsbane extract to slow internal bleeding from spreading further. Kellan’s breaths were short, rapid. His heartbeat trembled under my hand. He had barely any time left. This was sudden, it was unexpected, unusual, nothing to use in describing the situation; they caught me right in the spot, exactly where it hurt the most.

Even more so was he surprised that, based on the blood on the floor and still oozing from her back, she was even alive. Working silently, he stopped dabbing at the spilling fountain of blood when thin, white peach-fuzz seemed to grow from each exposed vein and tear, the fountain lessening as the small hairs reached out to one another and tightly coiled, gracefully knitting and pulling the gashes closed like laces to a corset. He wiped the rag once-over after the process slowed to a halt, the bleeding done and the once sickly skin now honey toned and healthy.

God dammit! Severing major arteries is messy business, and I’m usually able to keep myself out of the line of fire, but not today it seems. My black hair is matted with blood, my maroon bra looks black from the blood soaking into it, and my matching maroon satin and lace panties are soaked and not in the good way. The gorgeous tattoos that cover the ivory skin of my arms and legs are now veiled in blood. I look horrific. But sometimes this comes with the job.

I wake up gasping for air. Not sure what exactly just happened but I hope this was just a bad dream. I feel awful and am wet from the sweat so I decide to try get myself into a shower. Maybe I can remove these bandages, shower then get changed into fresh clothes. Carefully I get myself up from the bed and it takes a good few minutes before I can stand up properly and unaided. This whole wolfsbane thing has knocked me more than I could have imagined. Just to make sure I don’t struggle I sit on the chair, at least to unwrap my bandages. It takes a few tries to grab the end from my back but I got there, even if it was hurting me. Layer after layer I unwrap myself. I get up to take a look at the

“Stay still.” He steps back instinctively. “It’s nothing.” “Blake.” My voice drops, controlled but trembling underneath. I step closer. Carefully, slowly, I grip the hem of his shirt. He doesn’t stop me this time. I lift it. And the air leaves my lungs. A thick bandage wraps tightly around his lower abdomen. The gauze is soaked, deep crimson bleeding through layers that were never properly secured. A thin line of fresh blood trails downward. It’s still bleeding.

Will he break my ankles as Vittorio did to Mei? I try to sit up, but my body feels heavy. Wrong. There is a strange, sluggish weight in my veins, as if the blood running through me isn't entirely my own. I look down. My left wrist. It's bulky, tightly wrapped in a crisp, white bandage. It throbs with a heavy, dull ache. I look at my right hand. It is wrapped in a matching bandage from the knife wound two days ago. I am bound on both sides now. A matching set of scars.

"The heavy soreness will completely fade by tomorrow morning, and the bruising will disappear within a few days, but the internal connection between us will remain permanently active in your bloodstream." Seth finishes the medical treatment by placing a fresh white bandage over the ointment and securing the edges with new adhesive tape. He steps back to admire his careful work, and he gently trails his fingertips down Beau's right arm before turning around to pack the medical supplies back into the plastic box. Beau lets out a long, shaky breath of relief now that the intimate physical contact is over, and he attempts to take a step backward to put some distance between us.