Dripping Blood When I Poop Novels & Stories

I wanted to believe them. But Damian’s voice echoed louder in my head. Was he the one sending the creepy texts? No. Damian wouldn’t use an unknown number. He would just show up. Then I looked down. Blood. “Oh shit…” I stood slowly and pulled down my underwear. The pad was soaked, heavy and thick. Definitely not normal. Then I remembered something about postpartum bleeding after a D&C. I guess this was it. Still, it made everything feel that much more real. I limped to the bathroom, tossed the pad in the trash, and turned on the hot water in the tub.

Blood. It just started falling, slow at first then faster, soaking through my pants and pooling on the floor. Look how well it turned out.

Damn. My heart pounds frantically in my chest as I feel something wet and sticky between my legs. With trembling hands, I reach down, my fingers coming away slick with crimson, the metallic scent of blood filling the air. God, why am I bleeding? Horror washes over me as I realize what's happening, and I feel bile rise in my throat, threatening to choke me. The blood continues to flow, staining the pristine floor beneath me in dark, ominous streaks, a stark contrast against the polished surface.

I groaned in pain, clutching my stomach, as I felt like someone is continuously stabbing my stomach. I tried standing up, but felt dizzy, almost falling onto the floor. I sat on the cold tiles as I lean against the wall, bringing my legs up to my chest as I try to fight the pain. I felt another sharp pain in my stomach, making me cry out in pain. I tried standing up again and was successful this time. I suddenly felt something wet run down my legs, and I looked down and was horrified by what I saw. Blood was dripping down my legs.

I take a few more, then go back inside the bathroom, the tiles colder than usual beneath my feet. I hope he hasn't left for work yet. I need to talk to him about something. It's important. Quite urgent. It's not about Mamma. Or Leandro. It's probably best if we go see a doctor today. After peeing and washing myself, I freeze next to the toilet. No way. Is that blood? The bright red blob in the toilet bowl grips my attention after my breath catches. I stare at the blood, assessing the amount and the color, unable to move to flush it down the drain.

Abdominal cramps twisted my insides, and worry instantly consumed me. Groaning, I stood and stumbled to the bathroom while clutching my abdomen. In my half-awake state of mind, I rationalized the pain as indigestion, and decided that I would try to go to the bathroom to ease the discomfort. However, as I pulled my underwear down, I felt my stomach drop at what I saw. This was no mere indigestion; my underwear were soaked red with thick blood. I nearly screamed, but managed to clamp my clammy hand over my mouth just in time.

My eyes got wet quickly due to the extreme pain of my left hips that just hit the table and I was about to try to stand up from the floor even though I was still having a hard time when I just suddenly felt wet from my down there. I thought that it was just an alcoholic drink that was suddenly spilled the moment that I accidentally hit the table but it was not because when I touched that wet with my finger and when I already raised my hand to look at what is it, I saw blood from there which made quickly envelop with so much nervousness and so much fear.

When my head comes back up a wave of dizziness hits me. I hold onto the sink as my body falters. When I look into the mirror I see five of myself, all looking pale. Is it the wine? My fears are confirmed when I cough blood into the white pristine sink. The red hue moving slowly down the drain as I start to fall. It has never been this painful before. I try to hold on tighter but my hand is slipping, my breath becoming heavier. “Drew…” I try to scream, but my body meets the floor before I can make a sound.

The urge to vomit overwhelmed me. I struggled to walk to the bathroom. My vision blurred. When I finally reached the bathroom, I collapsed in front of the toilet. Blood spilled from my mouth. My eyes widened. Frozen in shock. Throwing up blood could only mean one thing: The person is dying. And in my case, it meant I was dying. Panic set in. Fear gripped my heart. How could this be happening? Now, of all times.

Drip. At first I thought it was the leaky sink in the hallway. But the sound was coming from behind the wall above my head. I sat up slowly. The room smelled wrong. Like iron. Like rust. Then came the sound—squelch. Like something soft and wet being dragged along stone. A sickening line of red trickled down from the corner where wall met ceiling. Not water. Not ink. Blood. I blinked. It kept coming. Thick. Red. Fresh.