Blown Vein Hand Novels & Stories

I ordered, as my gaze moved between the stats and the bleeding. Slowly his stats started to improve and there wasn’t nearly as much blood as there had been. Releasing the air, I had been holding, I held out my other hand and asked for the clamps. With the bleeding now under control, I was able to see that it had been a blown blood vessel, nothing that I couldn’t easily repair.

His gaze begs me to kill him, he knows that he will not get out of here alive and he only wants his hell to end, but I won't end his life, I don't believe I will be able to do it. I don't know what to do, I've never done it before, I turn to look at Raymond, who smiles at me as if I were a child learning how to walk, he holds my hand still with the blade and guides me. If you cut here on the inside of his thigh, you will cut the femoral artery and he will bleed out in seconds, it's painful but he guides me quickly, his voice is leisurely and slow, but firm and serious. If you cut this part of his arm, he will be in the cephalic vein, which will make him lose a lot of blood and sensitivity in

The doctor inspected my hand, checking the needle tip. “Would it be alright if I put this in your right hand instead?” he asked. “Do I still need the IV?” I muttered. He nodded. “If not the right hand, we can insert it in the cubital fossa, but you cannot move your arm at all, or you risk venous thrombosis,” the doctor explained. I sighed and offered my right hand. The doctor smiled faintly and began preparing the new line. My eyes drifted toward Hank’s food bag.

"Help...ahem, ahem... help..." The doctors and nurses rushed in the ward in time, followed by Nick. Callan became more agitated when he saw so many people. It seemed that he didn't know anyone. When he saw them, he wanted to hit them. While he was struggling, the needle got out of his hand, and his blood spilled out. "Master Handerson!" Nick was shocked. "Hurry up. Go and hold him down. This is the side effect of the medicine! Head nurse, the vein channel is broken and needs to be established again!"

All I could see was her. She was a wreck. Blood crusted under her nose. A long gash torn down her side where the beast’s claws had caught her. Her face was gray and sunken, her lips cracked. And her arm… I pulled back her torn sleeve and my heart stopped. The black veins. I’d heard about them. I’d seen them on the dying at the gates. But I’d never seen them on her, and the sight of them tore something open in me. They’d spread far past her wrist, past her elbow, climbing up over her shoulder, dark and thick and pulsing faintly under her skin like something alive.

The pain came without warning. Not the dull pulse I’d gotten used to, the low constant reminder that the curse was there and moving. This was different. This was every nerve in my left arm lighting up at once, a white hot thing that started at my wrist and drove straight up to my shoulder, and I knocked the report off the desk getting my sleeve up. The veins had crossed my elbow. I sat very still and breathed through it, both hands flat on the desk, watching the black lines pulse visibly under my skin. Moving. I could actually see them moving, slow and deliberate, branching.

He would be a fool not to notice how Vivie was smiling and both high giving She didn't even glance back or anything to see him, Victor lost it as he sat there. He didn't even bother to hear what the three men sitting with him were saying. His eyes were on the woman who lied to him. Seeing her it seemed she didn't care about anything "Victor, is everything okay?" someone asked him, bringing him back to his senses only to realize his breathing had increased. The sharp pain in his hand stung more than anything and when his eyes shifted down to his right hand. He realized blood was oozing out like water. He held the champagne flutes way too tight that the crystal stem shattered in his hand and t

The gold is more prominent this time. His hand moves from my sleeve toward my neck. I don’t flinch. I know it’s pointless. It does not help to fight this. This is it. He’s going to end it. His hand brushes against my neck, his fingers grazing my skin. Before I go to close my eyes with finality, I see the veins in his arm. It is black. I frown. I'm not in pain, so why is his veins black? What is he feeling? He pulls back as though my skin burned him, his eyes widening. He looks at me with disbelief. His grip loosens and I can see the pain in his face.

The fist hit the tree again. The knuckles were already gone—not bruised, not bloodied, gone. White bone showed through where the skin had split and peeled back. The middle finger had snapped sideways on the last punch, hanging at an angle that made the stomach turn. Blood ran down the bark in thick streams, pooling at the roots, soaking into dirt that had turned black. Another punch. The crack wasn't wood breaking. It was bone. The ring finger this time, folding backward until it touched the back of the hand. The person didn't stop. Didn't even slow down.

"I’m going for a walk. Just... I need air." He turned and walked out of the barn. During his walk, he came across a small stream and knelt by it. He splashed water on his face, trying to wash away the heat in his skin. He ripped the bandage off his shoulder and looked at the wound. The hole was still open, the size of a quarter. The flesh around it wasn't red or pink like a normal wound. It was gray. That was not the only thing that was unusual about it. There was a web-like vein spreading from the wound all the way to his neck.