Cracked Bleeding Knuckles Novels & Stories

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.

Shе’ѕ wеаrіng аn armband of ѕоrtѕ tо hide thе dаmаgе, but it hаѕ ѕlірреd down аnd еxроѕеѕ еvеrу hоlе that’s been mаdе in hеr skin оvеr the lаѕt two weeks. Thеrе’ѕ a lumр rіght іn the crook оf hеr fоrеаrm. It’ѕ in the space whеrе a needle hаѕ made іt mark tоо оftеn. It’ѕ wееріng pus. Mу frіеnd isn’t just wаѕtеd, she’s sick.

Em was sure he probably knew she hadn’t hit a “tree” “And a cracked knuckle .. and I am sorry to say.. you’re gonna need a surgery. We’re gonna have to put a couple pins in your pinkie and ring fingers.” Em felt sick. Of course she would need surgery. This is the kind of shit that happened to her. “Think the knuckle will heal on it’s on and you’ll be back to full functioning in a couple weeks with the surgery … it’s a simple procedure …” the doctor was still talking but she wasn’t paying much attention.

“I’m going back to my room to rest. You should rest early too.” Blair held her hand. “Did you apply the ointment to your hand?” “Not yet, I’ll do it before bed.” Blair put down the glass and led Mable to the bedroom. “Where’s the ointment?” he asked. Mable pointed to the coffee table. “In the drawer below.” Blair took the ointment out, squeezed it into his palm, and gently applied it to her knuckles. As he applied the ointment, he said, “The doctor said that your knuckles might feel sore the first few times you apply the ointment. Endure it for a bit. You won’t feel it anymore after a few times.”

[Cillian’s POV] "You struck the stone with immense force, Alpha," the Royal Healer murmured, his old, wrinkled hands deftly wrapping a strip of clean white linen around my shattered knuckles. "The bone is bruised, but not broken." I sat in the heavy leather chair of my study, staring blankly at the roaring fireplace. The scent of mint and comfrey filled the room, but it couldn't mask the smell of my own festering guilt. "Tell me, Gaius," I said, my voice eerily calm, never taking my eyes off the flames. "If a man were to drop a wooden scrub brush from a few inches above his hand... could it crush the bones? Could it split the knuckles open?"

Once the cold leaves her numb, she steps out. Her reflection makes her feel sick. There’s a large bruise forming around her right cheek, causing her face to swell and look puffy. Her ribs are covered in dark bruises, and placing slight pressure on them, she finds that a few on her left rib cage are fractured. Taking a closer look at her arm, she comes to the conclusion that she must have sprained her elbow when she fell down the stairs.

CRACK. The sound of my knuckles meeting her cheekbone echoes in the small room. My fist is hard, fueled by weeks of suppressed rage. The force of the blow knocks her head to the side, and a white, bloody object flies from her mouth, a tooth. It bounces off the floor with a tiny clink.

He pulled his arm back and struck the wall again, and again, and again. Boom! Boom! Boom! The sound of solid stone fracturing echoed alongside the sickening, distinct pop of his own bones breaking. His knuckles split open completely. Thick, dark blood seeped out of his skin, gushing down his hand and splashing heavily onto the floor. Two of his finger bones fractured under the brutal impact, the sharp pain radiating up his arm, but he didn't care. He didn't even flinch. He just kept punching until the entire section of the reinforced stone wall collapsed inward, crumbling into a pile of gray dust and rubble.

Desperate to hold him back, to force some sliver of humanity out of him, I reach out and violently snag his right wrist. The moment my fingers wrap around his skin, I freeze. The skin across his knuckles is completely split, raw, and horribly swollen. Dark purple bruises discolor the muscle, and thick, dried tracks of dark blood are embedded deep into the cracks of his hand. It looks like he’s spent the last four days using his body to dismantle a concrete wall.

His breathing was strained, but he was doing his hardest to not show it. Creed stood casually while cracking his wrist. They observed him gently biting one end of the large bandage with his teeth and holding the other end with his left arm while tightening it over his injured knuckles. "Since you couldn't hear it the first time. I'll say it again… " Creed uttered as re-wrapped the bandage around his shattered knuckles, "Back off… or the next hole won't just be through your armor."