Cracked Bleeding Knuckles Novels & Stories

I wasn't new to me about how everyone murmured as I passed. I rushed to the bathroom as I got tired of the pointing fingers and the words they uttered. I stopped for a moment and began to stare in the mirror in disbelieve as hot, salty tears rushed down my cheeks. I rushed into the toilet as I heard footsteps approaching. It was definitely some of the school divas who had come to fix their makeup. They began to gossip about their love lives and who they wished to attend prom with.

Like the weak-ass bitch that she is, she turns tail and limps away. Pain from the wound in my ribs throbs, burns, and itches. I feel myself twist from the inside out. My fingers curl against the ground. My nails crack and split. My scream turns into a howling snarl as claws begin to protrude from my hands. I fall to the ground. Then there’s a crack. My head pounds. The world flashes white before everything goes black. I shake it off. I see a dark shape approach before it shifts into fucking Jack! I hate being fucking right sometimes! He glares at me. “Still breathing, how inconvenient.”

Camila I’ve chewed my thumbnail down to the quick. The skin splits, blossoming red. Hissing in pain, I shake my hand out, clenching my fingers. I have to quit this bad habit one of these days. I always do it when I’m stressed. And right now, I am very stressed.

I was alone in the cabin, Liam and Lucas wouldn't return for at least two hours, and my phone was—I patted my pockets with increasing dismay—still on the kitchen counter where I had left it before climbing to the attic. "Perfect," I sighed, frustrated tears threatening as the pain continued to pulse through my ankle. The injury was clearly serious—already swelling visibly, with discoloration spreading across the skin in an alarming pattern. Based on the audible crack and my medical knowledge from numerous werewolf-related injuries, I strongly suspected a broken bone rather than a simple sprain.

Underneath it all, there’s a cleaner note: pine sap and the faint, medicinal sweetness of snow. The pain fractures, then coalesces in my hands. I stare as the joints swell, fingers thickening and curling. The nails go black at the tips, lengthening into curved points. I try to flex them, but the tendons are too tight, the muscles ballooning underneath the skin. I rake them across the tile and leave deep gouges, little ribbons of linoleum curling up in the wake.

Bells rang but I felt paralyzed. Finally opening my eyes, I looked around, the sunlight was dim, it was probably evening. I tried to lift my hand up from the table without looking at it, but I couldn’t, it was numb and cold. Taking a breath, I looked at my hand. It was in a weird shape. Purple and blue bruises lingered upon my skin. My hand was swelling up. Yellowish knuckles and greenish nails. It was definitely infected like my other bruises. They had smashed the hammer until my fingers were broken. Almost ten times or maybe more.

Emery I pulled the towel down I had wrapped around me once I got out of the shower. I ran my hand over my ribs , wincing some at the pain that was still there. Apparently breaking your ribs and then breaking them again before they’d fully healed could really cause some damage. The bruises had turned an ugly yellow color. And by now I knew that meant they were just about gone. My knee and foot were still sore from the sprains and the cracks in the bones and the surgeries. But I was able to walk on them without braces and boots now. Seemed like every time I got healed something else happened. So I wasn’t complaining.

“I was disappointed they didn't give away their identities on the TV appeal for volunteers,” Luke kneels beside my chair and pulls off my trainers before beginning to massage one of my sore feet. Theo takes note and takes my other foot, rubbing it gently. “Damn, Babe, your ankles are like balloons,” Theo exclaims. “Thanks, I feel much better now,” I roll my eyes and laugh. “Oh dear, they are swollen, mine used to get like that when I was…” Theo’s mum begins and then stops herself, her eyes going wide as she moves around to study me.

“Because of me. Again.” I had? Surprised, I looked at my hand holding the cup and discovered splits across my knuckles. Damn. I’d barely noticed. They weren’t bad. They’d be completely healed within a day or two. But now she’d seen them, and she’d probably notice when they weren’t there anymore. Shit. I was usually better with covering details like that. Nervously, I flapped my free hand. “It looks worse than it is. I’ll get better, you watch—”

The golden arrows on the dark brown old clock in the cream colored office seemed to mock her. She had been staring at them for over ten minutes and it felt like they had not changed a bit. She started to look around the office for something else to distract her. The only none expensive thing in this office was the dark mahogany desk she had had shipped in six months ago after the old one had completely broken under weight of heavy files. She turned to the right and saw the blue crystal ball she had gotten him a long time ago. It made the room a little more lively.