Bloody Finger Story Mga Nobela at Kwento

I held one of the five fingers of his right hand. "What are… you… planning to…do?" I gave him an innocent smile, then placed the clipper on the finger and clapsed it together. The bone in the finger cracked and a loud howling, painful sound vibrated through the room. My wolf jumped happily, finally happy to gey the exact fear he wanted. I watched as the finger fell to the floor and blood began to drip from the open wound. I held the second finger and repeated the action, earning myself the same result. Just as I pocked the third finger, a voice came from the door of the basement.

Clara yelled. I didn't move. I just knelt in the freezing puddle, my head hanging low. "I said get more water, you deaf bitch!" Clara snarled. She stomped forward. She lifted her heavy winter boot and brought it down hard on my right hand. Crunch. "Ah!" I screamed. A sharp, blinding pain shot up my arm. The heavy heel of her boot ground my fingers directly into the hard, freezing cobblestone. The rough stone tore my skin open. Bright red blood instantly pooled around my crushed fingers, staining the white snow.

I lunged for the telephone on the cupboard, dialing frantically. My fingers froze as another gunshot rang out. Blood spurted from my fingers. The phone slipped from my hands, stained with blood, clattering to the floor.

She wanted him and allowed him back into her life. He remembered how she wanted more and more. He was not a gentle guy in bed. But he tried his best to be gentle with her. He cut his finger a little bit while chopping vegetables. He saw blood oozing from it. He washed his finger and wiped it with a towel, thinking that it would heal very soon. Then he started to work again. But he was surprised that his finger did not heal. He frowned and examined the fresh blood coming from it.

Callan was really ruthless! "Master Handerson!" Nick was shocked and hurried forward to hold Callan. Callan gasped and was sweating. The long bench was already bloody. His left little finger had been cut off! It was said that ten fingers were linked to the heart. Even he could not bear this pain. "Is that enough? Are you satisfied now? I cut my finger off today in exchange for a chance of my child's survival. The things I promised you will remain the same! Is that okay?"

I exhale loudly and make to snap the book shut but the sharp end prick my finger. With a hiss under my breath, I press my finger tightly as tiny drops of blood trickles down. The blood drops on the page and like a mystery, words begin to form, unraveling themselves. I watch with shock, my heart pounding against my ribcage at the swirling letters that aren't there before. As soon as it starts, the strokes end. I glance warily at my finger which has healed instantly and with my pulse spiking, I read the words; ‘Rare is the blood born beneath the crimson gaze of the moon,

I tell him and he nods. “Am glad we have an understanding and I think from now on. You and I will get along fine. Now, do you remember what I said if something like this happens again?” I asked him. “Yes, I remember.” He answers, his face is white as snow, and I can see that he is in a lot of pain. Poor man. “Good, Fingers, drive him to the nearest hospital and leave him there,” I tell him and get out of the cold room. I met Souls just as I am headed to the shower, they call him Souls because he enjoys watching people as their souls leave their bodies when they die. Creepy I know but this is the bratva world, the world of weird stuff, blood, drug, and money.

There’s nothing worse than exhaustion from too much exposure to the cold. This coming from someone who used to think that the torture methods used in Dad’s–and every other organized crime organization–was bad. For instance, having your finger chopped off in order to get information out of you, sucked. I was ten years old when I walked in on Dad and his men sitting in the kitchen, not thinking much of it. Until I noticed a man sitting amongst them, crying, and clutching a bloody hand to his chest. It took a few seconds for me to comprehend why a massive, grown-ass man would be sobbing like that. Then I spotted the severed finger on the kitchen table.

Sol was indifferent to their blood status and seemed to wholeheartedly support his friends. I took out the knife to chop the potatoes. Still thinking, I couldn't help the creeping feeling that welled in me. It seemed they didn't have a child. Once they had, would Sarah be dangerous when giving her birth? I shook my head to stop myself from caring about a thing that hadn't happened yet. I gasped as a shooting pain stemmed from my finger and looked down to the source of the pain. I had cut my finger accidentally. My mood turned even sourer as I stared at the blood that leaked through the cut. Suddenly, before I could even move, there was a wooshing sound from around me. The door to the kitchen

Hunter said, the cigarette still hanging from his lips, “but I’ll be kind enough to take only the fingers.” His voice sounded bored, as if this wasn’t really fun. "Please..." the young man begged. Hunter adjusted the man’s fingers, spreading them apart one by one.Then, without looking down and without the slightest hesitation, he brought the axe down. A finger flew across the table, and the man screamed. Hunter didn't even blink. He brought it down again and another finger flew. I staggered backward, my legs giving out beneath me. I fell hard onto the cold floor, unable to tear my eyes away from the horrifying scene unfolding in front of me.