Burst Blood Vessel In Throat Novels & Stories

My saliva burnt in my throat when I swallowed it. My blood pulsed as if passing by sores in my veins. My heart rate slowed by the minute and I was afraid that any of these breaths would be my last. My body burned with a pain I'd never felt before. It wasn't like period pains, it wasn't like a stab or a scratch. It was something else. It was as if my blood itself burned and moved around my body full of little knives and glass shards.

Compared to the head and chest, the throat was the more vital part and a weak point. The opponent's throat suffered a heavy blow. His respiratory tract and the upper spine felt immense pressure, so his breathing was not smooth, and was even on the verge of suffocation. Instantly, his face was red from lack of air. He staggered backward as his hands instinctively pressed against his throat, trying to regain normal breathing.

My blood but it was dark red. “Brinley.... what is happening?. What’s that?”, Ryder stammered in shock as he watched me to. “I don’t know,” I choked out, holding my stomach and crashing down on the floor. “My throat hurts and it’s terrible.” I cried as let blood flow down from my mouth. “Wait.... shit!”, Ryder went for a face towel and dampened it before pressing it to my forehead. “Calm down. Deep breaths.” I was hearing his words but I couldn’t calm down. I kept on coughing onto the towel, turning it red instantly. Fear rushed over me as I saw more blood. Where is it coming from?

Her voice was hoarse. “We’ll talk about that later. Right now, I need to make sure you’re OK. Are you?” “Am I what?” “Are you OK?” “Umm.” She shut her eyes and winced a bit. “I think so.” “Does your head hurt?” “No, not really. My throat and my neck.” He lifted her chin, and that was when he saw the redness and bruising. The fucker must have cut off her air until she passed out.

My heart slams against my chest when several drops of blood disappear done her throat. Will this really work? Is she going to wake up now?

He quickly got to Boulvar’s side to checked his vitals. His head and torso was so badly slashed by his own wind attack, that his face was thorn into shreds. His right eye was gone from the socket, his nose cut off, as well as his lower lip and parts of his chin. What he was more worried about, though, was the blood pumping out from the deep gushes on his neck and chest. “He’s not gonna make it!” said a student near them. “That’s arterial blood pumping out his neck! With that much blood gone...”

I gasped, clutching my chest as I fought for air that would not stay in my lungs. “Miss?” Thraia’s voice sharpened in panic. I turned to her, but her face had already begun to blur at the edges. “Thraia...” I heard myself whisper. A brutal pressure surged upward from my stomach. I slapped a hand over my mouth. Too late. Something hot spilled through my fingers. I looked down. Blood. My knees buckled, and I caught the edge of the table just as another gush forced itself from my throat, thicker this time, accompanied by pain so savage it felt as though my insides were being torn apart one organ at a time.

Saratan’s P.O.V "I own you, little vessel." His breath was icy against my neck as he leaned in, “Every drop of the blood thrumming through your veins belongs to me… and when you bore me, I’ll drain and stuff you." My pulse thudded erratically and I couldn't help the helpless tears that slid from my eyes, "P-please, don't kill me, I don’t want to be a blood vessel…" I whimpered, feeling my bladder give up on me and wetness flooded my thighs.

I used the wall as a support as I slid up, and then the pain in my back increased and I couldn't stop the coldness that attacked me. My throat felt dry suddenly and I could taste something familiar but almost forgotten in my mouth, then the cough attacked me and when I opened my mouth, what came out was blood, now I knew how serious this was. Seems I had done too much, especially my throat which I am still hoping will heal.

"But considering your circumstances, this is the best I can do." The swelling in Beardsley's throat came on like a hurricane, and he lurched against the steering column, grabbing his throat and tasting vomit in his throat. He let out a muted croak of a scream, not even loud enough to be heard outside the car. The saltiness in the drink now came to his knowledge.