Cracking Upper Back Between Shoulder Blades Novels & Stories

Grinding pain. I hissed through my teeth, jaw clenched tight. No time to baby it. I leaned back against the rock, locked my spine, gripped the wrist with my left hand. Steadied my breath. Counted to three. Then jerked it forward and up. A sickening pop tore through my shoulder. Vision sparked white for a second. I bit down on a guttural noise and forced myself to breathe through the pain. It held. Joint back in place. The climb was slow, but I made it up.

The claw wounds on Steve's back were slowly and painfully healing, each day bringing both relief and unfamiliar discomfort. The deep gashes—three parallel lines that ran from his right shoulder blade to the middle of his spine—burned with every slight movement. It was a first for him, this human-like recovery process.