Bloody Finger Story Novels & Stories

Still listening. When he suddenly laughed after I recounted another fight they had, my mind went blank at the sight. He looked so… A small flutter came to my belly followed by a sharp pain “Shit,” I hissed immediately. I looked down at the blood emerging from my finger. Because I'd lost space it slipped against the knife. Serves me for being careless. Warm skin grasped mine. My breath hitched as he turned to face me up close, his hands cradling my finger.

I faltered in pain after falling because some fragments of the broken glass scraped my arm and back, but I managed to get the bottle and successfully scraped all my fingers, causing blood to gush out of the open wounds. I would never let them take my fingerprints, no matter what. "What the?" a man screamed, seeing my bloody body on the floor.

With my trembling hands, I grabbed the handle of the door, and it had just opened when Bell's scream froze us. I furrowed my eyebrows and turned back only to see her pale face with widened eyes. She covered her mouth with her hands and panicked. We followed her gaze and stared at the sink. The sight I saw sent chills down my spine. Blood was flowing instead of water from the tap, which had blown us all away. I choked in the air as she showed us the blood across her lips. "I told you, Bell. But still, you didn't listen to me."

I asked, tilting my head to see if the thorns had pierced his skin. My eyes widened when I saw blood gushing out of his fingers. "Oh no!" I felt sick watching his blood. He was clenching the rose with his bloody hand. I quickly put the book and sample herbs on the ground and grabbed his hand. "You are bleeding!" He tried to yank his hand. "That's nothing." I tightened my grip and looked at him. "Stop pretending like nothing hurts you." He seemed to be frozen by my words. I unclenched his fingers and saw his bloody fingers and palm. The thorns were really sharp.

Blood blooms on my fingertips. “We give to you a piece of ourselves in return.” She says as she gently squeezes my wound, a drop of blood falls on the soil. She gently kisses my finger and whispers what sounds like a song. So quiet I can barely hear the melody. “Mama it hurts!” I cry.

‘After all his friend passed through, he should be a good person’. As the vase collided with the wall, an acute piece of the ceramic as it broke apart, sliced beneath his right eye, revealing the whitish insides of his body which was immediately covered by red blood that gushed out of the three centimeters long injury. Another piece as the vase collided with the wall, peeled away the nails of his middle finger entirely, leaving a murky but fleshy lump of red flesh in its place. “Fuck!” Harold cried out as he dropped what remained of the vase to the floor. He held the finger which had experienced the bruise, not minding the blood that poured out of his eye in cascades.

He mutters under his breath and walks back to his room. I peel off the oversize jacket and make my way into the small kitchen to prepare dinner. But, it is so hard to concentrate when all that I see in my mind’s eye is the James mother. I don’t know what kind of state I would find my pack when I get back, and now all my effort are proving futile. Sudden pain brings me back to the present. I look down at my hand to see blood flowing out of my index finger. “Fuck.” I hiss, hurriedly dipping my hand into a bowl of water. The content of the bowl turns red immediately. My stomach churns when I see the exposed bone of my finger. I sigh, another scar.

He just looked like any other man on the street. “Ready.” He asked. I knew that even if I said no, he was still going to do whatever he had planned, and I would need to just deal with it. “Great.” He said without waiting for an answer. He took the pliers and grabbed the nail on my pointer finger on my left hand. He paused for a moment and then yanked. A shooting pain ran from my finger, through my hand, and up my arm. I screamed out in pain. I looked down at my finger, blood was pouring from it.

Fang There was blood dripping down my fingers. Hot, thick blood. It made a scorching line as it dripped across my hand and down my arm. Like acid. And just like acid, it burnt a mark on my soul. How many men had there been before the one before me? Honestly, I couldn’t remember. Too many over the years. Hell, there had been too many in the last few months. This was just the latest in a long line. A very long line.

The box left my grip and he removed the picture with his gloved hands. “Something’s written at the back,” I pointed out. He flipped the paper. “Written with blood,” he added with a frown that matched mine. “Human blood?” Sarah questioned, her face cutely squeezed with disgust, her feet stepping back by three steps. “Don’t tell me the one on the floor is human too? Even the finger?” “I doubt it,” Ray replied. “It seems fake.” “What’s the bloody message saying?” I pushed him to reveal it. “Uh, let’s see… Swear? Swear, I am…” His eyes squinted. “... going to… bu… butcher your finger next.” He looked up. “They wrote it weirdly. But that’s it.”