Broken Blood Vessels On Shoulder Novels & Stories

I snort at the ridiculous idea. “Keep your eyes on me, baby boy.” Mason puts a little Alpha bark behind his words and I can’t help but obey. “We think you’re in shock because less than a minute ago you were screaming in pain as a bullet tore through your shoulder. You’re bleeding like a sieve and you need to sit down so we can take a look.” “My shoulder? Bleeding?” I reflexively slap a hand over my left shoulder, confused by the wet, sticky substance I feel. I pull my hand away, staring blankly at the red liquid coating my fingers. “What the-”

Each step closer just felt wrong, The closer I got, the more his expression tightened, his jaw clenched as if my presence was adding salt to his wound. I lowered myself onto the sofa beside his bed, setting the bowl down carefully. This had become my place over the past two days, watching him. I dipped the cloth into the water again, wringing it gently this time before leaning forward. His skin was warm, not the burning fever from before but not normal either. As I brushed the cloth across his forehead, my breath caught. The wound in his shoulder— It looked worse. Dark veins spread outward from it, crawling beneath his skin. They stretched toward his neck, his collarbone, his arms… like ligh

'So they didn't catch me' he wondered. Slowly he sat up, and winced with pain. Lack of medication made his new face turn red and swollen. Puss is forming near the stitches. He looks hideous and scary. His shoulder injury is making it difficult for him to even use his left hand. His right hand is not healed from the fracture and it's not strong either.

He was shirtless. His torso was a map of violence. Bruises were already blooming across his ribs where the chandelier debris from earlier had hit him, turning his skin into different shades of violet and black. But those were superficial though, his Alpha healing was already fading them. The problem now was his left shoulder. A jagged, ugly gash cut deep into the deltoid muscle. The flesh around it was neither pink or red. It was grey. Black veins were spider webbing out from the wound, creeping slowly toward his neck.

It glances off his chest with a hard thump. Instead of falling over, he pauses, then looks at me with murder in his eyes. Ares is in awful shape, but his anger is beyond feeling mortal pain. I try to secure my sword with both hands, but it’s impossible. My bad arm feels numb, but not numb like I would expect it to with a severe shoulder injury. I look down at my arm. Black veins are spreading down to my fingers. I crane my neck to see my shoulder. The edges of the wound are black and peeling away from my body.

Frank kissed the head under his chin. "Never disappear again." Kara pressed her cheek against Frank's shoulder tighter. Some people were moved to see it. Only two people were not—Finnic who snorted jealously and Philip who grimaced worriedly. "Hmm, Miss Martin ...." Philip interrupted from the submarine. “For your information, his left shoulder was injured. It looks like a bone dislocation. I think it will be better if you don't hug him too tightly.” Kara's eyes suddenly widened. She took a distance and examined her lover. Only then did she know that Frank's body was soaking wet and his left shoulder was abnormal. His lips were blue, either from cold or pain.

Cloudless. His left shoulder no longer bled. Not because it had stopped. He was nearly drained of blood. His right arm was useless. The bone of his right shoulder broken, the knife still embedded. He could only use his left hand. He raised it in front of his face. It trembled too, but the fingers could still move. He pressed his fingers to the ice surface. The ice was cold, colder than his hand. His fingers froze to it, the temperature transfer making the ice suck at his skin. He wrenched his fingers upward. His fingernail scraped against the ice, leaving a white scratch.

I woke up on the third day feeling like I had been hit by a truck. My left shoulder was a nasty shade of purple and yellow from the hit I took during the game. Every time I moved my arm, a sharp pain shot down to my elbow. I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, staring at my reflection in the long mirror on the closet door. My hair was a mess, and the bruise made me look like I’d actually been in a fight.

Nothing like this. Elias finally looked up, eyes dark. "Besides the obvious bruising to her face, she has a broken rib on the left side and heavy bruising on the right. Deep claw lacerations along her ribs that will need medication to prevent infection. A knife wound to the thigh," he paused, swallowing, "not a graze. It went at least an inch into the muscle. Her right shoulder was dislocated, but it looks like she pushed it back in herself." He drew a slow breath. "Likely a concussion. She took at least two hits to the head. And... rope burns on both wrists."

I shut my eyes as the image of his head being ripped off crossed my mind but then, if it wasn't for Stark, I would also have been dead and gone. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and slowly slid onto the balls of my feet. I grab the cold white pole of my IV drip and slowly made way to my bathroom. I walk to the large mirror and observe my state. My usual straight blonde hair was now wild and untamed, spiraling out of the ponytail I tyed to the party. My face looked fine, other than the red bruised hand mark round my neck from the choking I got last night. The large bandage wrapped around my right arm in a sling, hanging just below my breast had me wrinkling my nose in irritation. I tr