Bloodied Hands Adelaide Forrest Novels & Stories

No words. He brought it down into Derrick’s ribs. A crunch. A spray of blood. Another blow—shattering cartilage, snapping bone like twigs beneath a boot. Again. And again. Until the chest cavity yawned wide, a gory cradle of punishment. With one final breath, Adrian reached into the carnage, his hand disappearing inside Derrick’s chest. Blood surged over his forearm, warm and thick. Then, with a jerk, he closed his fist around something soft. Something final.

I pushed myself up on my hands to find Adrian’s lap where my head had been resting. “Settle down, we’re not home yet.” His voice was low, somehow soothing. His hands were covered in blood. I stared at them. Flashes of my parents faces went through my mind. His hands had been covered in their blood from battle…and after he murdered them in front of me. I looked up at him, and winced as the pain came back to me. I looked down at myself. I was absolutely drenched in blood. My own. There was something balled up, pressed to my stomach.

He could see nothing and felt like he was moving through jelly. Abednego finally came to a more open part of the woods. He had to stop due to sheer exhaustion, even though he didn’t feel safe. The only sound he could hear now was the light sound of rain hitting dead leaves and crickets chirping. Most of the rain was caught in the canopy above, forming a roof over Abednego's head. He was thankful for this slight reprieve. He didn’t want to look at his shoulder, but he felt he had no choice. It was covered in red, blood covering it completely and running in rivulets down his chest.

He failed to notice that the blood dripping from his fists was steadily flowing toward the statue. "Rather than questioning my identity, why don't you turn around and look at what's behind you," Adrian suggested, pointing his sword toward the statue. Clark suddenly felt a stinging sensation in his hands. Looking down, he was horrified to see that his hands had dried up just like the desiccated corpses under the statue. All the moisture in his hand had vanished, leaving only withered skin wrapped around jagged bones. He then felt a wave of nausea, despite these hands being his own.

The voices grew louder until they sounded like thunder crashing around me. Their eyes burned into me as they pointed at me. I looked down and saw blood all over my hands. No matter how hard I rubbed them together, it wouldn’t come off. More blood appeared. It dripped from my fingers. Ran down my arms and covered my clothes. I tried to scream, but my throat closed. Then suddenly, one of the dead men from the forest stepped close enough for me to see the hole in his throat where my claws had torn through him. Blood poured down his neck.

"Come on Adelaide." I bit into my already healed wrist again and gave her more blood, she jerked and I pulled back, her eyes were still closed but her complexion was returning. I reached down to wipe the excess blood away when her eyes snapped open, glowing an ethereal silver, a sign that her beast was awake.

A deafening roar cut through the tense air as Rio stormed in, covered in blood and mud, eyes glowing like molten gold. He was on the first soldier before the man could raise his rifle, tearing out his throat in one swift motion. Gunfire erupted from the second man, but Rio moved like a phantom. Bullets whizzed past as his claws raked through the soldier’s chest, his heart crushed in Rio’s palm. The third soldier’s face twisted in terror. He fired blindly, but Adelaide was faster, pinning him against the wall. A single snap of her hands and his body went limp, falling in a heap to the floor.

Julian nodded his head towards his parents and I looked back over. Forrest picked up the dagger, slicing his palm deep. He held his hand over the goblet on my side of the table, letting his thick black blood flow into the cup. Colette picked up the dagger next and filled Julian's cup. "Drink and join us," Forrest spoke quietly. Colette clung to his side with a large smile plastered on her face," our brood is anxiously awaiting your acceptance.

“Cain?” Adelaide is on her feet now and she stumbles so violently that I move without thinking. My body burns where he touches me, and she does. Adelaide stares up at me through still sleepy eyes and after deciding she doesn’t believe what she’s seeing, she relies on her hands. Her hands find their way to my head and I prop her up against me while she feels my features with her fingers. Her touch is gentle, her thumb brushes the corner of my eyes and her palm caresses my cheek. Her eyes remain glued to mine, but she touches and feels me.

I was sprawled on the floor, unable to stand, my whole muscles crunched together, my whole body ached so much that I could feel being rejected by death. I had fallen deep into small pot, I held myself up, supporting my muscles against the sand. I climbed off the pit, my eyes struggle to make out a relevant vision. Blood gushed from my legs, I tore off my shirt the bandaged my leg. I picked up a stick which I used as a staff to support myself as I moved gently. I fell, stood up and continued on my journey to survival though I wished for death to come take me away, release from this unending series of suffering. I placed my weight on the stick which aided my movement. I came across a part of