Bruises Book Novels & Stories

I crawl out of the bed and walk over to the bathroom to check for bruising. My nose was a pale purple color, and my left side was black, purple and blue. I put my hand on my cheek and start to think about what to do. As soon as my hand comes into contact with my cheek I instantly pull it away. My right cheek had a red handprint on it. I touch my cheek and the events from my dream reappear. None of my makeup is able to hide the bruises. I hear a knock on my door and stare at my face. I decide to take the makeup off because there isn't a point. I walk over to the door.

I stared at it, not making a move. "Open it." I reluctantly grabbed the file, opened it, and was horrified. There were multiple pictures of bruises all over Ben's body. Some bruises were worse than others, and some were bloody as if he had been stabbed. There were several pictures of Ben's face; it was severely bruised and swollen. His left eye socket appeared to be broken, as well as his nose. I put the pictures back in the file and pushed them away. My hands were shaking; I couldn't believe Adam would do something like that to Ben.

I don't know but someone tells me here all the information I need. Suddenly my hand moved alone and touched the strange symbol. I suddenly felt my palm hurt. There was nothing sharp in my hand so why did I get wounded? I saw how the color of the book changed. From a simple dark brown book, it became light brown with a green diamond on each side and an aqua blue crystal in the middle.

I didn't have high expectations, though, I just wanted it to be nice and with someone I liked. I grabbed the purple dress and put it on. It showed all my good curves. My butt was just average and my boobs were a C cup. I have a small taille and a rounding by my hips. As I looked in the mirror at my body I spotted a bruise on my left underarm. It had the form of a hand and was blue with purple stains around it. I trailed my finger over it and felt a small sting. I was still looking at my bruise as the door opened and the green-eyed man walked in.

Questioned them. Pulled away. He didn't. He simply stood there. Quiet. Watching her every move. Like he was trying to understand what she wanted from him. Or maybe... Like he was waiting for the kindness to end. Waiting for the part that hurt. It never came. When Azerbel carefully removed his clothes, her hands slowed. Then stopped completely. Her breath caught. Bruises. Everywhere. Some fading yellow. Some dark purple. Some newer. Some older. Layered over one another as though they had never been given the chance to heal.

Lizzie immediately apologized. “What the fuck, get out!” Alexis yelled using her hands to show her the way out and she did. But before leaving Lizzie said, “Vitamin K helps with the bruises.” The bruises on Alexis ass made Lizzie drift back to her days at the strip club, how she was maltreated and abused by many men, including Mike.

Jessica's Pov The sun hitting my face felt like a physical assault. I didn’t even remember falling asleep, but the throbbing in my left wrist was a nasty reminder that last night wasn’t just some fever dream brought on by pre med stress. I sat up, my breath hitching as I peeled back the sleeve of my oversized Property of Camblok Medical Dept hoodie. The bruise was... wrong. It wasn’t just a purple splotch. It was deep, dark, and the puncture marks were spaced out in a weird way.

They’re heavy, unresponsive, a reminder of how badly I’ve been pushed to the edge. My skin is a canvas of pain. Every inch of it seems to have been stained with violence. Bruises bloom across my arms and legs in varying shades of purple and black, as if the darkened marks are painting a picture of my suffering. They ache deep inside, the pain radiating outward with every subtle shift I make.

Author's Pov: Wrapped in a towel, Kathleen stood before the tall mirror in the luxurious bathroom. Steam clung to the glass, blurring the image, but even through the haze, she could see them. Bruises. Her porcelain skin was painted in shades of purple, red, and angry blues. Her collarbone bore the deep imprint of his teeth, her arms were shadowed with finger marks, and between her thighs, the soreness throbbed like a curse she couldn’t wash away.

As she did, the oversized silk sleeve of the robe slid down. It slipped past her wrist. Past her forearm. Bunching at her elbow. The morning sunlight hit her skin. And it hit the bruises. They were dark purple, almost black against her pale flesh. Four distinct, oval-shaped marks on the inside of her upper arm. And a matching thumbprint on the outside. Finger marks. The imprint of a hand that had grabbed her with enough force to crush capillaries. The grip of a man who had held her over a balcony.