Blown Vein Hand Novels & Stories

So why am I feeling so drained, and why does my arm throb? I pull up the soaked sleeve to inspect the area that is giving me issues and gasp out loud when I see not just a mass of dark bruising, but my veins are a deep hue of purple and angry looking. My throat goes dry when I see a small hole, no bigger than a needle, but bright red, sitting in the center of the bruising and discolored veins. What did they do to me? It’s the logical question, the only one that comes to mind. They, whoever it was that attacked me, must have caused this.

Just as I reached for the doorknob, cold fingers dug into my arms and my feet left the floor. What I discovered a bit too late was that a vampire’s touch was not only cold but it left your skin crawling wherever they touched you. They are only able to mask your irritation by using their mind compulsion to make you more…pliable. I was too shocked to scream and my fingers feeble struggled against the icy iron grip on my arm. I was fucking levitating, already three feet from the ground.

Panic flashed in his eyes, pure, unfiltered panic. “What the hell… are you okay?” I knelt beside him, reaching out to help, but the moment my fingers brushed his skin, he jerked violently and vomited more blood. I pulled back, but my eyes stayed locked on his. Something was wrong. I looked down at my hand, still resting on his arm, and noticed the skin beneath my fingers. His veins were turning black, dark lines spreading out like cracks in glass. They kept moving, snaking up through his chest, his neck, his face, until they reached his eyes.

When the pain finally eases enough for me to breathe, I glance down. The heartbloom is there just as it was before. Perfect and alive. Blood-red petals are etched into my skin, with veins of green curling outward as if the flower is rooted in my flesh once more. The vines wrapped around my arm loosen slowly and reluctantly, before retreating back into the cracked stone like they were never there at all. The air rushes inward. The crack seals halfway. It is still visible, but no longer bleeding wind. I stare at my shoulder in horror.

She extended her hand, handing him the glass. The man breathed heavily, seething anger evident in his expression. “That’s bullshit!” he shouted and slapped her hand away which made the glass flung away from her hand and hit the counter and shatter completely. The smashing sound alerted the bartender who immediately called for the bouncers. However, the hazardous pieces of glass ricocheted from the counter and a seemingly large piece rebounded in Belinda’s direction and buried itself in her hand. Belinda looked at her hand. The glass was buried pretty deep into her hand and her hand started bleeding. “Owww.” She winced in pain.

I said. She grasped the blunt tool with both hands, held it high above her head, and brought it down with all her might. The cry tearing from Gary’s chest shook the roof. I inspected his rapidly swelling left hand. His fingers were quickly going from pink to a satisfying bluish-black. “Good job,” I praised her.

That final foot would never land. The hand gripping the sword began to shake. At first, just a faint tremor in the knuckles. Then his entire hand convulsed violently, like an old man too frail to hold a teacup steady. He stared down at his own hand, his pupils shrinking to needlepoints. Black veins erupted beneath his skin, starting from his fingertips. They didn't surface from the outside. They leaked upward from within his blood vessels, every dark line spreading along the pathways of his veins.

Their spine turned numb from the agonizing pain from just his grip that kept getting tighter. Their elbows went numb from the agonizing jitter. Unfortunately, he didn't stop. In fact, his grip got tighter with each second crushing their bones even more refined powder. The blood vessels began to burst from the pressure. Their eyes turned blood-red and their veins on their foreheads popped out.

Crying definitely didn't help with my dehydration. "May I see your arm that your IV was in?" she asks nicely. I show her my swollen arm. It was covered in a nasty bruise from about the middle of my forearm all the wat up to my bicep. "OH MY GOD! How long did they leave your IV in after your vein blew? This looks horrible!" She asks.

He was slowly nodding as his smile never faded. “By the way, what are you doing here?” I asked, “I mean, what brought you here? You should be resting in your place while waiting for your wrists to heal.” I focused my gaze on his wrist and found that it was still covered by white bandage. From what I have heard from the nurses, there were some veins that were ruined and that may affect James left hand. It may affect his living and I don't know if there can be surgery that could be done in order to heal or fix it.