Novel & Cerita Bloody Painter

Blood sprays everywhere, painting the pavement as he collapses in a heap at my feet, eyes wide, mouth still open around whatever bullshit he was about to spew before attempting to shoot me. Cali stumbles back with a strangled gasp, her heels slipping against the concrete. “What the—what the fuck just happened?” I step over Stefan’s body like it’s nothing. “He made a bad investment.” Her chest heaves with sharp, shallow breaths, eyes flitting from the blood to the canvas in my hands. “Is that what this was about? That ugly thing?” She’s still recovering when I crouch low, set the painting across my knee, and pull the knife from my belt. The blade slices through the canvas in one clean, brutal

His entire body was covered in a bloody mist. "Haha, my Demonic Blood Diagram has finally been mastered!" The figure let out another heaven-shaking laugh.

At first, it’s nothing—just shadows in the red. But then? Eyes. Teeth. Mouths locked in silent screams. I smile—wide. The dry skin on my lips splits and bleeds, but I don’t stop. It’s beautiful—my own personal gallery in red and black hues. The blood isn’t just blood anymore. It breathes. It listens. And now, it talks—not in sound, but meaning. Rage. Hunger. Power. Old power. Forgotten. Waiting. I don’t just bleed—I conjure. The figures in the pool whisper without mouths, and the more I hurt, the clearer they become. My blood isn’t just leaking. It’s listening.

he says. "I know," I say. He hands the knife back to me, handle first. "Keep it," he says. "Next time, aim for the throat." Outside, the moon is rising—two days from full, heavy and pregnant with light. But in the portrait room, surrounded by the faces of women who had not been allowed to choose, I feel something shift. The bloodline is not a curse, I realize. It is a question. And for the first time, I am ready to answer it on my own terms.

Gail felt his fine hair stand on end. “But this painting is amazing, painted like real. I think the painter was very rich at that time. Hmm…” Gail then stood up and looked around. “I only saw one painting here. However, I did not find another painting anywhere. Have the termites eaten it? But why is this painting not eaten? Ah… The things of the past are mysterious.” Gail then took the shabby cloth and covered the photo again. “Sorry I can't hang you back, your frame has been shattered. But I will still cover you with this cloth, so you don't get dusty easily."

she said and grinned at him, even though her insides are shaking a bit. After that, she looks around his office again. The big dark curtains caught her attention. At this time of the day, the sun is at its peak but because of those big curtains hanging on his window, the sunlight barely touches the ground of the insides. She walked towards the window and attempted to part the curtains when a strong grip on her arms stopped her and Sunny found herself pinned on the wall. She can see her own reflection on his dark and scary eyes. It's just like seeing her reflection in the eyes of the murderer. She's scared but she does her best to hide it "Bitch!" He spats on her face. She never heard his voi

El stifled a groan and turned to Lucas, who looked utterly mortified. "Right, back to class, folks!" The Principle shuffled his chair back as he stood, vaguely gesturing with one arm. They filed out of the office into the main hallway, where the magnolia paint was peeling off the walls in places, revealing a pale green underneath. "Psychiatric green", El had once told her, thought to be a calming colour. Lucas took off down the hall, slamming a locker door as he went. "Well, that's just great," El grumbled.

"Wait. Whatever you want, I can give it to you. Money, anything. I'm taking both of them with me." Ethan steadied himself and regained his composure as he locked his sharp eyes onto Amber. Anyone else might have been intimidated, but Amber was not one to scare easily. She did not even lift her gaze before waving her hand. Tara panicked as her tears spilled uncontrollably while Ethan's eyes stayed on her, filled with nothing but heartache and tenderness. At that moment, I probably looked like the greatest villain of all. It was as if I was someone who had torn apart the fated love story of two star-crossed lovers.

You can start now, Maureen," Maureen smiled at him. She felt her fingers tremble but did not stop her from continuing painting. Maybe it's just her excitement so she also feels a little nervous. Gregorio sat on the sofa in front of the girl, watching her painting. He is secretly happy because it looks like Maureen is his next victim. "I'm done, Sir," Maureen said happily. She didn't take her eyes off the painting. The painting is so beautiful that anyone who sees it would dream of owning it. She was lucky because she received the artist's painting, and take note, it's free! Gregorio stood up and approached the girl. "It would be even better if you put your name," Gregorio said kindly.

The light from the chandelier above the dining table cast a warm yellow glow, but in my eyes, that light felt like an interrogation lamp. Porcelain plates were arranged with painful precision on the polished teak table. Diego Watson, a man with broad shoulders—the remnants of his glory days as a competitive weightlifter—cut his steak with steady, rhythmic movements.