Burst Blood Vessel In Throat Novels & Stories

I lay in a mangled heap and grasp for air, mouth opening and body trying, but I’m like a fish out of water. Unable to do anything at all except whine under my breath, and claw weakly at the dirt around me, trying like crazy to inflate my lungs even an inch. My shoulder’s wet from a severe set of puncture wounds that extend up onto the side of my neck, and I know it’s probably my jugular that’s making the flow so intense. The throbbing coming from there, in time to my low and weak heartbeat, pulsing out my blood with every thud.

My hands are shaking, slippery with blood. Inside. Up three flights of stairs. Every step agony. My throat's healing but everything else hurts. Muscles, bones, organs. Like my entire body's bruising from the inside. I make it to my flat. Lock the door. Stagger to the bathroom. The mirror shows a horror. Blood covering my neck and chest, soaking through my scrubs. Hair matted with it. Eyes too wide, pupils blown. And the wound. Two puncture marks on my throat. Deep, ragged. They should require surgery. Should be gaping open.

The foul smell flows through his nostrils before it’s on his tongue, and it’s bitter, but as soon as it burns down his throat, he lets out a violent cough, and blood splatters on the floor. She immediately rushes forward and rubs at his back, but Kieran coughs out more blood. His chest and throat burn while his veins throb violently. Fuck. His throat is closing up, and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. He lets the glass fall to the ground, spilling its contents.

"However, if you notice any increase in swelling, any difficulty breathing, any feeling like your throat is closing up, you need to tell someone immediately, understood?" "Understood," I said. He moved on to my ribs next, and his expression became more serious. "I'm going to need to lift your shirt to examine your ribs properly," he said. "Is that alright?" I nodded and he carefully lifted the hem of my shirt, exposing my ribs and stomach. I heard Tristan suck in a sharp breath and when I looked down, I saw why. The bruising on my ribs was extensive, dark purple and blue spreading across my entire right side.

Retreating into shadow. Click. A faint sound. Barely audible. The blood vessel along the side of his neck finally ruptured. Dark blood slid downward. And beneath his collar— something began growing. Golden-black vines. Twisting. Spreading. Crawling upward across his throat. Toward a face already consumed by murderous intent.

They rolled Sed onto his side, and a pool of blood spread across the stage from his mouth. “Help him!” Jessica insisted. “Stand back, ma’am.” One of the paramedics examined the inside of Sed’s throat with a tiny flashlight. “His trachea isn’t collapsed, but he’s blown a blood vessel in his throat. Keep him on his side and let’s get him to the hospital. We can’t fix this here.” They lifted him onto the gurney. No one else moved. The entire stadium stood silent. Several roadies helped the paramedics lower the gurney to the floor and then they were racing toward the ambulance with Jessica on their heels.

Even I can say I look awful. "I can't eat. It hurts" My voice practically disappears as I speak and I swallow thickly to make it easier. But swallowing is the main reason for the pain in my throat. I can thank the silver I drank and ate while at Red Blood. Something makes my stomach coil suddenly and I press a hand to my stomach. Please don't be sick, I silently beg myself. My body responds by racking my spine with coughs and I put a hand to my mouth as blood comes up along with some more silver. I scrunch my hand up to cover the small burning from the silver before wiping the blood on my napkin.

Rushing back to it, my eyes landed on a breathleaf. Cutting it out quickly, I looked around for something to crush it into paste but there was none. With no other option, I wrapped it up into my mouth and chewed it up until it could form enough juice to use. Since she couldn’t open her mouth, I tore out her shirt and rubbed the paste on her chest to reduce the swelling on her throat and calm her racing heartbeat. While at it some people who looked like her parents, ran towards us. “what happened to her?” her mother asked in a panicked voice. they didn’t wait for a response before the father picked her up and they ran towards the clinic.

I reached up instinctively and felt it—wet, hot. Blood. Then I heard a voice. Familiar. Deep. Controlled—but breaking at the edges. “You’re awake.” He was at my side in an instant, eyes narrowing as he spotted the blood. He didn’t speak. But his fists clenched at his sides as he immediately mind-linked someone. Seconds later, a doctor burst through the door. “Her throat—treat it. Now,” the man said, his voice hard, but his face was tight with emotion. The doctor moved quickly, lifting my chin to assess the damage.

Four guards were assigned to guard and protect us. I was already familiar with them. This particular day, the one that was usually assigned the morning shift on Tuesdays, entered "Luna, breakfast." I was so excited to eat that I rose to take my food. I took my food and settled down to eat. Immediately, I put the food in my mouth and started chewing. I noticed that my throat was burning. I swallowed it to stop the burning, but that just made it worse. I started choking and vomiting blood. I held my throat to ease the pain, but that did not even help at all.