Blown Vein Hand Novels & Stories

Jayden's right index and middle fingers were directly broken and pulled out from his palm. In a flash, blood gushed everywhere. Jayden was first dumbfounded. The next second, the immense paint spread from his wounds, and he stared at his right hand in disbelief. His heart beat so violently that it almost crashed his sternum. Then, he felt a strong air current rushing toward him. In the blink of an eye, the surrounding air seemed to turn into a vacuum. When Jayden raised his head, he let out a silent scream, and he saw a fist getting larger in his sight as if it were a meteorite wanting to blast him into pieces.

" At her words, Evelyn's cup slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor. "Eve!" As if on cue, Brian stepped through the main doors and beheld Evelyn's pallid face. He rushed over to check her wrist and found blood seeping through the bandages. He also noted that her fingers were scorched by the tea. "Grandma! Eve is still recovering. The doctor said that if the blade had gone just a bit deeper, she could have lost her hand! You shouldn't treat her this harshly!"

When I turned away, I looked up at Elijah, who was looking at me with great concern . "Is everything okay?" I asked, my brows drawn. He wasn't looking into my eyes, or even at my lips. But on my skin. "Ky…" he whispered, and reached for my hand, "your.. Your arms." I looked down and had to bite back a scream. "What the hell?" I muttered as I stared at my arm. Black thin veins, webbed across my skin like cracks of ink. They ran up my forearms, curling over the back of my hands, disappearing under my sleeves and reappearing at my collarbone.

Washroom: Hailey splashed water on her face a few times and took a deep breath. She placed her hands on the basin and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her grip tightened on the basin's edge, and suddenly she hissed and looked at her hand. Even after years, she still sometimes felt pain in her hand whenever she tightened her grip. She looked at her hand and moved the sleeve a little. There was a scar, about three inches long, on the inner side of her lower arm. Over time, it had turned white, but she could still feel it whenever she rubbed her fingers over it.

I heard people shouting as I slammed the dagger right into his skull. Creighton’s wolf shuddered to a stop, and I fell to my knees. Finally, taking a look at my hand. Other than the fact that the bone was crushed, and the skin around it was purple, not to mention my fingers look like they might never work again, my hand is fine.

I knew the torturous utensil couldn't stay poking out of my hand and so, I let adrenaline take over me, and without thinking too much about it, I moved my now excessively shaking good hand towards the object of impalement. I grasped the steel handle and pulled it out with the strongest pull I could muster. It flew out of my flesh and clattered on the table as my face scrunched up even more in torture from the sensation. Instantly the bleeding got worse and began to pour out of the wound. I pulled my hand into my chest, applying pressure by wrapping my good hand around it, only now my right hand was covered in blood too.

I sunk into the comfortable couch by the side of my bedroom; Miss Beatrice brought a metal stand, and a bag of fluid was hung on it. “Let me have your left hand sweetheart.” It always has to be the left hand, a very unfortunate piece of my body. The cut I had on my left arm had almost healed I stretched it out, she cleaned the back of my hand with spirit. She held around the muscle at the back of my hand with her thumb and index finger. With a quick thrust, she pushed the needle into my vein. I winced at the sharp pain. She attached a small plastic catheter over the needle and into the vein, she then removed the needle, leaving the catheter in place.

I wiped the tears from my eyes with a furious hand, staring down at my wrist. I touched the soft skin with my fingertips, tracing the cobalt veins beneath. There was no festering wound, that ached it oozed dark blood, nor a scarlet sickle etched into my skin.

says the loving, warm voice. "I punched him in the face, Mom," I sigh. "He keeps getting in her business." She sighs. "How bad is it?" I look at my right hand. The knuckles are beet red, but some purple is starting to rise to the surface, along with swelling. The middle one looks like it wants to bleed. Actually, the two on the other side want to as well, but the hand itself feels stiff. "I temporarily have fucked my hand up," I answer, shaking it out again.

I ripped my mask from my face and threw it to the side. Trembling, I brought my hand to my stomach, touching the wound and immediately winced, ‘Ah!’ I yelped, arching my back, curling myself inwards as I cried out at the pain. As I lifted my hand to see how much blood there was, I sobbed even more as I saw the wolfsbane had scalded my hand, infected with blisters, redness and rawness coated in my blood. I had no choice. I had to stop the bleeding.