Bloody Painter Novels & Stories

The last time the tattoo had scabbed over, I had missed him too much and couldn’t find an excuse to come, so I had forcibly picked at the scab before it had healed. This was my third touch-up. It was also my self-directed and self-performed act of “playing the victim.” The comments drifted by right on cue: “I’m dead. This isn’t clumsiness, it’s desire itching under the skin!” “Claire Rivers ruins her own skin just to see her man once. Yeah, only she would pull that off!” “Henry is washing his hands three times longer than usual! He’s calming himself down! He’s trying not to look like a creep!”

He stepped closer to her, but the panicked her sliced ​​her palm with a knife and pointed it at him. "Stay away... My blood isn't radioactive, but you can melt if you touch this blood." She said, trying to scare him. Tommy rubbed his face with the palm of his hand several times. It felt like he wanted to let the devil eat her but pity her because she was too stupid. "I've killed him. It would be best if you remembered your promise, Ana. We will meet again." Jonathan whispered and just walked away like nothing happened. Tommy from the living room, who didn't hear anything, stood up like a dizzy person. What was happening just now seemed to force him to think.

Four large paintings hung on the main wall, each one lit perfectly so it seemed to breathe on its own. Her eyes moved across them slowly… and then she saw something that caught her attention immediately. Paintings. And one of the paintings was hers. It was a piece she had finished months ago — a woman standing by a window, half in shadow, half in light. The brushwork showed all the quiet pain and hope she had felt when she painted it. Seeing it here, among the other strong works, made her chest tighten. “Quentin…” she whispered. He stood close behind her, tall and steady. “They selected four paintings this year. Yours was one of them.”

One man dropped and another went down after Sergio’s return fire snapped through the hallway like thunder. Sergio looked back at her dubiously. "How come you are so comfortable with a gun and shooting people?" he asked her. Rosy shook her head uncertainly. "I don't understand it myself. My body is just responding to a command on its own." she replied and Sergio smirked. "Surely now you believe the De Luca's blood runs through your view now." "Doesn't prove anything." she muttered focusing on gaze on the men exchanging gunfire. Blood pooled across polished floors. Priceless artworks were torn to shreds. Smoke drifted toward the high ceilings like a prayer gone unanswered.

she snapped, “I need to get back the shop before the boss has my head. Is this about the Bloody Barbies again?” Bloody Barbie was the nickname Maria gave to the murders ever since she’d gotten involved as a suspect. It was an apt name. Each crime scene that had been investigated was painted red with each victim’s blood, and in each one there would be a bloody doll left behind (though, not exactly a Barbie), no less than three feet away from the body.

He whispered very softly. That was right before the doors of the ballroom blasted open with a loud Bang. The entire crowd, including me and Alex, turned towards the source of the sound. Damon. Damon stood in the door opening, two knives protruding from his chest. Blood covered his chest, dripping on the ballroom floor. There was a head wound on the side of his face. Keddrick and two other guys were next to him. The four men looked absolutely furious but Damon.... Damon looked like the devil himself. His eyes were pitch black and his razor sharp fangs were bared. Blood covered his chin and hands and it was quite evident that he just killed people.

he continued, ripping my clothes with his bare hands, exposing my erect nipples. My breath came in sharp gasps as my eyes met the ground. Deep down, I didn’t want to go through the pain of another master, yet I still wanted to be sold. I pressed my lips together. “She’s pretty, truly, she can be useful in bed,” a man suddenly said. “I will pay two hundred grams,” a man bid. My hand clenched hard as the bids continued until it fell on the round-bellied man. “Going once, going twice sol-”

"There were others much younger than her who thrived, even in the Council. We are done talking!" Another man steps forward with a glass, punctures the toothless prisoner's flesh, and fills his glass with blood. My chest heaves and I freeze. My knees buckle as violent tremors shoot through my body. Cold sweat drips down my back. In my ears beats the rhythm of my heart. I swoon at the sight of so much blood. But the man with blue eyes and a warm voice holds me steady when I sway. What in heaven is happening here?

And what is happening in there town? They don't understand at all, and why this horrible act is happening in their town? All of them stood there stretching there head in confusion; trying to figure out why people are dying, and who is responsible for this terrible action, from that day forward they called it BLOODY DAY! To me, this is a big mystery that can't never be solved. ( This Story continued) ATTENTION READERS: This book have different series book 2-9