Brisk Bleeding Meaning Novels & Stories

I lie there helplessly as I wait for myself to bleed to my death. I never knew that dying could be so hard. That even at the doorstep of death, it still is a gruesome journey to get to that peaceful place. Depending on how well you have made the cuts, bleeding out could take anywhere from a few minutes to half an hour. You would experience an increased heart rate, a clammy feeling, dizziness, and become pale. This will be followed by a shortness of breath, and when your blood pressure drops far enough, you'll lose consciousness and eventually die.

She has the appearance of a bloodied bride and appears to be unable to stand for lengthy periods of time. She could still feel the bruising and cuts, and her flimsy clothing seemed to be getting heavier as the blood flowed out of her. "FREAKING STOP!" She began to cry as her vision became fuzzy. She could feel new cuts on her left and right cheeks. She couldn't tolerate the discomfort any longer and so lost her balance.

Immediately, Bridget felt a shooting pain in her lower abdomen as the blood gushed out from between her legs and drenched her skirt. Grimacing, she pressed a hand on her abdomen and took deep breaths. Jocelyn hurried over upon hearing Bridget's scream. She was stunned by what she saw. "Oh my god. T-This is… Bridget, what happened to you?" Jocelyn frantically attempted to help Bridget up from the ground, but she was aghast at the amount of blood on the floor.

I asked in panic, supporting her head with my hand. “No. I don't need anything! Just bring Julian. I feel like I'm about to slip awayyyy!” She screamed, stressing on the last word. “Please don't say that, Ma'am. You'll be just fine.” I patted her back gently in reassurance. Just then, I saw the red liquid trickling down her thighs. She was bleeding. It rolled out at first in small droplets until it increased in intensity. I used my hand to suppress the gasp which escaped my mouth.

My vision blurred and darkened, and I knew I was running out of time. The metallic scent of my own blood filled my nostrils, mingling with the damp, earthy smell of the forest floor. I pressed my hand against the wound, trying to stem the flow, but it was useless. Blood seeped through my fingers, warm and sticky, a constant reminder that my life was ebbing away.

Branches snap as it disappears into the dark. I collapse back, gasping, sweat dripping down my face. Relief should come, but it doesn’t. My leg is gushing blood, hot rivers soaking through shredded joggers. My hand is worse...skin peeled, muscle chewed, everything sticky and raw. I try to stand. My body refuses. My arms shake when I push against the ground, and I drop back down hard. I know what’s happening. My pulse is thready, weak. My skin feels cold even though sweat clings to me. My heart is hammering fast, trying to keep me alive, but there’s too much blood loss.

"What the fvck are they even saying? BP, lochia, BID... Are we sure this isn’t alien code?” I couldn’t help but laugh, though it made my stomach muscles ache. My hand flew to my belly. “It’s not that complicated, Ave,” I said. “BP means blood pressure; and mine is normal. Lochia is just postpartum bleeding, and it’s slowing down. BID means twice a day, like how often I take the iron pills to help my anemia from the birth.”

But it was still fast. I tried to use my power again. Tried to reach for the threads connecting its other arm. But my head was spinning. My vision was going dark at the edges. The nosebleed was getting worse, and I could taste blood in my throat. "MIA, MOVE!" Bree's voice, distant and echoing. I tried. My legs wouldn't respond. The effort of erasing the arm had taken everything I had and more. I was running on fumes, and the tank was empty.

Hands resting calmly in front of him. “I’m going to be honest,” he said. The room stayed quiet. “We cannot find any clinical explanation.” No one spoke. The words settled slowly. He continued. “Your vitals are stable. The scans show nothing alarming. There is no physical injury that explains the bleeding.” He glanced at Damien again. “Medically speaking… we cannot determine the cause.”

I looked down and I felt all my senses seize and do a triple fucking flip. Blood. Coming from Cressida's nose. Dark red and thick. It pooled in the hollow of her throat, stained the collar of her uniform, dripped onto the white sheets. "Cressida!" Madame Voss ran inside immediately and Raven screamed, Tasha grabbed Benita and pulled her back. Voss pressed a cloth to Cressida's nose. "She's seizing...no, she's not seizing, she's...the bleeding won't stop—" "What's happening?" I demanded.