Bruises Book Novels & Stories

Chapter 14 Melek Dilay helps me walk to the bathroom, where with a pair of scissors she finish tearing my dress apart. She doesn't ask any questions, but I can see her frightened and surprised expression when she sees my bruised body. Even I am amazed, my whole torso is bruised, I have bruises that have different colors, yellow, red, orange... It's honestly grotesque. She covers her mouth after exhaling in complete panic, I look in the mirror and realize I have my grandfather's boot marked on me.

Thеу’rе gun mеtаl grey and I grаb twо, оnе fоr mу hаіr whісh is dripping еvеrуwhеrе, аnd the оthеr tо dry mуѕеlf bеtwееn the bruises. It’ѕ thе fіrѕt time I рrореrlу ѕее thе dаmаgе dоnе tо mу neck. Thе bruises are already purple аnd vіvіd against mу ѕkіn. My fоrеhеаd сut іѕ асtuаllу tiny, іt just blеd a lot.

I reached back for the zip and pulled it up in two moves and then I stopped because I was facing the mirror and the mirror was not kind about what it showed me. The bruise at my jaw had gone yellow-green at the edges the healing part, the part that looks worse than the damage did. Victoria's work. Below my collarbone, half-hidden by the fabric's neckline, the mark Lucien didn't remember leaving older now, darker, a thing my body had decided to keep. My wrists, just visible at the cuffs of nothing, still held the ghost of the alley in shadow-thin lines where someone's grip had been too hard and too fast and too certain of its outcome.

The mirror showed me exactly how terrible I felt. Makeup smudged under my eyes. Hair sticking up in every direction. Lips slightly swollen. I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. It helped a little. Made the fog in my brain clear slightly. That's when I noticed the bruises. Dark marks on my wrist. Finger-shaped. Like someone had grabbed me. Hard. I traced them with my other hand, trying to remember. Had Ares done this? Ilias? Had I fought someone? Nothing. Just blank space where memories should be.

(…then why does it sound like you didn’t want me to? From this angle, Eden can see one of those ungloved hands were clenching into tight fists as the Princess gripped her forearms, fingers and nails digging deeply on the skin so bad that even from here, the handmaiden can see vicious marks of red half-moons forming so quickly, so stark on flashes of already bruised skin. Wait… bruised? From those skinny little wrists and up to her elbows, there were teeny-tiny splotches of green and purple marks. Like a child’s paint.

I tried hard not to scrunch my nose. “What kinda tea is this?” “Herbal. It'll help heal your bruises faster.” She explained, giving me that pitiful look again. Between her and Father, it was hard to decide who felt more heartbroken by my harsh bruises. My once smooth and porcelain skin was gone and tarnished to this rough and bruised surface. Thinking of it always had me on the verge of tears. Honestly speaking, I feel more heartbroken about my bruises than they do. I just got a better way of hiding it.

next came her pajamas. After she took off all her clothes, she faced me. I was stunned into silence by what I saw. Breathing felt impossible for a moment, as rage surged through me over their actions against Brianna.. Every inch of her little body seemed almost consumed by a tangled mess of open wounds, dark bruises, and a handful of small, healing burns. Bruises marred every part of her, across her back and chest, streaming down from her shoulders over her arms, across her belly and hips, and all the way to her calves and shins, as if pain had been poured over her and settled into every curve and line of her form.

“Please help me, my Luna. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please, I’m sorry.” I didn’t speak right away. I just watched her. Her face was bruised. A deep purple stain covered her left cheekbone, and her bottom lip was split in the middle. There were reddish-blue finger marks circling both arms, like someone had grabbed her too hard and didn’t let go. Some of the bruises looked older, half-healed. Others were new. Even the way she sat, curled in on herself like she was afraid to move wrong, made something twist in my chest.

Let me inspect your injuries. Melissa silently complied with the request, as if responding to a command. She lifted her shirt, revealing her belly. A huge bruise flaunts on the left side. He put his hand, creating a cold compress from his hand. The girl grimaced, apparently the ribs were broken. My heart trembled when I imagined what happened in our absence. ‍​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‍

Then, I pulled the torn blouse off my shoulders. I stood there in my expensive, pale pink underwear. The room was quiet. Roxy stepped closer, her sharp eyes scanning my body. She didn't look at me with jealousy or awe. She looked at me clinically. Her eyes stopped at the dark, purple bruises shaped like large fingers on my upper arms. Then, she looked at the fading yellow bruise on my ribs where Liam had thrown a book at me two weeks ago. "Who did that?" Roxy asked. Her mocking tone was gone. It was replaced by a cold, hard edge.