Cut Novel Novels & Stories

I could not afford to lose her photo. I quickly changed out of my hospital gown and wore my clothes. There were a few tears on my jeans at my left knee. I must have got it when I fell on the forest floor. I took a knife that was placed with the fruits and cut out the tear strategically to make it look like it was deliberate and fashionable. I did the same with the fabric of the right knee too. The result was satisfactory. This should do for now. I was thinking of how to call the nurse again as she had promised me an escort. There was a knock on my door as if on cue.

“Please, I have a family—” I pulled my knife from its sheath, the blade glinting under the flashing club lights. “So did I,” I said, pressing the tip just below his collarbone. His entire body trembled. “I’ll disappear,” he choked out. “I swear. I’ll leave the city. You’ll never see me again.” I tilted my head, considering it. Then I dragged the knife down, slow and deliberate, carving into his flesh. His scream tore through the room, raw and agonized, but I didn’t stop. I cut deeper, forming each letter with the same precision I used when slicing through my enemies. Blood poured down his chest, pooling at his waist, staining his expensive suit.

The five of us remained on guard. Those who were weaponless picked up the bronze knives that were scattered all over the ground. I, on the other hand, grabbed the uprooted tree. As we got close to finishing him off, Cutler cackled again before he was coughing heavily. Eventually, cracks began to appear all over his body. “Cutman?” Brock called him out.

Dust motes spun like gold coins and refused to land. “One cut,” she said quietly, mostly to herself. She brought the edge down— —and stopped. Not because she’d changed her mind. Because she wanted the room to understand that she had chosen. That the pause belonged to her. That what followed would not be an accident. Eddie made a sound halfway between a plea and a warning. Sasha’s grip tightened by a fraction. She found the joint, the place bodies keep as a hidden hinge, and cut. There are cuts that are cruelty, and cuts that are craft. This was craft. The knife parted tendon and flesh with a clean finality, found the line where bone wanted a door. The hand came free like it had been waiting

“Really, boss?” “Yes.” “Okay, I will do it,” Seth says, picking up the knife from the ground. Everyone looks on in anticipation as he brings the blade up to his dick. He is still hesitant, but he begins working as soon as Thomas unlocks the safety on his gun. Thomas watches without flinching as Seth cuts his dick off, screaming in agonizing pain. Blood pours from between Seth’s legs. “Good, now feed it to him” Everyone looks at Thomas as if he has two heads.

I run to the other side of him and get on my knees. I notice how one side of his jeans is tight, it is torn from the upper part which makes it super tight down. Probably the reason for his discomfort, that will stop blood flow. “I’m going to cut this, stay still.” He grumbles again. I stretch my hand and bend my fingers a little, when I feel my hand transform into claws. I use the long claws to cut a straight line by one side of his pants. I swallow down the bile I feel rise in my throat when I see his open skin, the bone showing and bent in an unnatural angle. He moans in what I hope is relief.

She is doomed to fail. [Tzzz!] [Tzzz!] [Tzzz!] The sound of wind being pierced fills the place as Cherry seamlessly waves her knife left and right. Soon, she thrusts it forward and cuts the bitch in the palm. No one would mistake that wound for a shallow cut, but Cherry does not want her to bleed out. The cut is so uniquely done that only a few drops of blood are seen.

I peel up his crimson-stained t-shirt to get at his torso, but Callan stops me and shows me the sharp-edged tool in his hand. “Scissors,” he says, using his thumb and finger to snip at the air. “Cut the damn thing off.” He demonstrates this by slicing through the bottom of the shirt. After placing the scissors in my hand, he backs away to stand with his brothers. Tentatively, I snip at the stained cotton until I get the hang of it. Then, I slice through the whole thing. I place the scissors on the floor and gently smooth away all the fabric from my former mate’s discolored chest. Large purple bruises mar his chest and abdomen and ribs, while scrapes and abrasions cover his neck and collarbon

“We tied our ribbon here. Twenty-one years later, I’m here to cut it and tie another, with you.” He paused. “I never thought a day would come when I’d willingly cut that ribbon.” We walked toward an old tree adorned with several ribbons. He closed his eyes and circled the tree slowly until his hand brushed against one ribbon in particular. He stopped. From his pocket, he brought out a small pair of scissors, whispered something under his breath, and cut it. Blood seeped from the tree. I gasped, startled, but Zayne held my hand firmly. “I’m here,” he said calmly. “It’s normal.”

He knows what he's doing and we'll have the information we need faster if I just let him work. Alex pulls a knife from its sheath and the man screams louder behind the tape, though it's more like a squeal now. His mangled legs won't hold him up and he's hanging by his arms, his eyes wide and fearful. Alex reaches up, brings the knife down and slices off his ear, which he tosses to the cement floor. The guy squirms on the hook and Alex starts using the knife to cut off his clothes. Small slices well with blood as Alex removes each piece with precise dexterity.