Corpse Party Blood Covered: Repeated Fear Novels & Stories

With trembling hands, I started to move, ready to follow Timothy's lead as he guided further away. But as I pulled away from Timothy's grasp, a sudden jolt of terror seized me. I looked down at my palms, now slick with blood, the stark crimson staining my skin. A shiver ran down my spine, an inexplicable dread settling over me like a suffocating shroud. "Timothy, your shoulder," I gasped, my voice a tremulous whisper. I turned my gaze back toward Timothy, fear knotting in my stomach at the sight of the blood seeping through his shirt, the wound stark against the fabric. I gasped.

The place smelt clean and fresh, but there was this echo of filth, and blood, and gore that came back to me and refused to go way. I closed my eyes for a moment, but realised my mistake instantly as all I could see and hear was the screams of Tamarak as he was being skinned alive, the gurgles of the man’s throat I cut, the plop, plop of body part falling down, and the warmth of the gore hitting my skin. I jerk uncontrollably, trying to wipe away the phantom filth off of me. I knew it wasn’t there, my brain knew, but it didn’t want to believe.

Looking around, I examined my surroundings and came to the conclusion that the blood isn’t just from someone else but from others. “Oh… oh no. No, no. No!” I sobbed, walking backward on my shaky and trembling legs. All around me there were piles and piles of bones with shredded pieces of fabric covered in mangled pieces of flesh and blood in the mix. The tears running down my face burned my fresh cut and I covered my mouth in horror, backing away slowly from the horrific scene. My hands shook as I lowered them down to my sides, my right eye widening in utter disbelief while I scanned the surroundings for any witnesses. I closed my working eyeball, praying that this was all just a dream. Unfo

Sara. My breath caught in my throat as I saw the scene before me. The vibrant color of blood oozing onto the white carpet sent a shiver down my spine, and the metallic scent filled the room, making me dizzy with fear. Her body lay crumpled on the once-luxurious carpet, the rich crimson of her blood seeping into its fibers. Her limbs twisted unnaturally, her face locked in a silent scream. But it was the knife—deep, jagged, and still embedded in her chest—that burned into my mind. The air left my lungs as I took a step forward. “Sara,” I whispered, the word barely audible. My heart clenched as memories of her kindness, her sacrifices, collided with the brutal reality before me.

Blood seeped from her wound, staining the floor a vivid scarlet, a stark reminder of the fragility of life. My world shattered. I dropped to my knees, my arms enveloping Zyra's fragile form, her lifeblood seeping through my fingers. The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, intermingling with the raw scent of fear and despair. It was a scene etched into my memory, a portrait of helplessness and fractured bonds.

A scream rose to my throat, but I clamped a hand over my mouth. Bodies. So many of them. Ripped apart like rag dolls. Mangled limbs strewn carelessly across the earth like broken branches after a storm. Pools of blood shimmered under streaks of light, and as I stumbled back, I slipped, my boots skidding through wet crimson. God. I swallowed, bile rising in my throat. My breath came in shudders, but I forced my legs to move again. Past the carnage. Past the ruined souls. “Cade…” I whispered hoarsely. “Cade…”

Foul blood splattered onto the ground as the corpse collapsed heavily. Without breaking stride, I continued to push deeper into the vehicle exhibition area. When I encountered two or three zombies clustered together, I remained unhurried. My bayonet slashed horizontally and stabbed vertically, each strike precisely hitting a vital point. Chunks of flesh and foul blood splattered around me, drenching me in the stinking gore.

/ HEIDI / The scene before me is a bloodbath. Bodies lay scattered across the floor, the once vibrant celebration now turned into a grotesque beano of death. My legs feel like lead as I force myself to move. And I hear another piercing cry with two more almost immediately, thuds resonating in my ears, each sound paralyzing me with fear. The terror grows so much that it becomes numbing, leaving me to stare blankly at the blood-pooled floor. But then a thought slices through my foggy mind—Hunter.

But worse than the fear itself was the overwhelming feeling of something she couldn't even describe—an invisible, suffocating force that made it even more unbearable. How could she possibly put into words what she had seen? How could she explain to Sarah the horror of watching someone’s flesh being carved away, the brutality of it all? Red. A red couch. A red ceiling. A red TV stand. And Sarah also soaked in red. Since being rescued at the school gate, it was as if a veil of crimson had been draped over her eyes. No matter where she looked, everything was stained in that same horrifying shade. And suddenly, she understood.

Caving chests. They panicked. I could hear the fear in their voice now, could see the looks in their eyes as one by one, their friends fell. Blood pooled at my feet, staining my boots with the crimson of death. My wolf and I blended into each other, our fury combining into a single, spectacular shaft of carnage and rage.