Novel & Cerita Grey's Anatomy The First Cut Is The Deepest

"I wouldn't have brought you here if I'd known this would happen. I'm sorry you had to put up with this." Her fingers curled. Gregory's left hand was still bandaged, and as he placed it over the back of her hand, she couldn't help looking at it. It also reminded her of how he'd shielded her in his arms when the pair of scissors had sliced through his palm. Crimson blood had beaded and flowed unstoppably from the deep cut, yet his first reaction hadn't been to hiss in pain but rather to bury Anathea's face in his chest so that she wouldn't see such a gory sight.

He slid in another disc. This one started differently. The camera panned over a surgical room. I recognized the sterile tiles, the harsh lights. Then, Morgana appeared again with a team of doctor’s, all wearing surgical gloves this time. And I was on the table. Pregnant. Terrified. “No,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “No, no, no—” And then it happened. They cut. I screamed, staggered back, my knees hitting the floor. Maxwell lunged forward to turn the monitor off, but the image, that horrific, cold efficiency, was already burned into my mind.

The cut seemed rather deeper than I had anticipated. "Sophie, stitch up this side. Robert, assist me on the left one" I said as I rushed towards the left side. On this side, glass was embedded deeper down. I hated this part but at the same time, I loved to know that I was helping someone though the government was paying me for this. You got this, Sadie. Come on, you can do it. I make an initial incision into his abdomen. The second cut I made was deeper into his abdomen. I gently pulled out another large fragment of glass.

Anna pulled out what little they had salvaged—alcohol wipes, gauze from a battered first-aid tin, a roll of tape gone yellow at the edges. “Not much,” she muttered. “It’ll do.” The wound was ugly up close. Angry flesh, swollen, rimmed with dried blood. She cleaned it in silence, jaw clenched, tears threatening but unshed. Ethan didn’t flinch except for the small betrayals of breath—sharp inhales he tried to bury, muscles tightening under her hands. When she pressed fresh gauze to the cut, his hand closed over hers. “Enough,” he said quietly. Her throat worked. “It’s not enough. Not for this.”

A video popped up from an unknown address, and she frowned as she took the phone. She tapped to play the video. On the screen, Tristan stood before the camera, his smile looking unnervingly pale. Behind him, two figures were bound to chairs, their bodies exposed. It was Delilah and Marvin. In front of him was a phone that was live-streaming the scene. He held a sharp dagger in his hand and walked toward Delilah, peeling the tape off her mouth. With extreme fear, Delilah shook her head vigorously as she pleaded, "Tristan, it's me, Lila! What are you…"

"It'll be hell. But if I don't do this now, you won't make it." He swallows hard, jaw clenched. "Do it." I nod, heart racing. I pull out a scalpel and a bone saw, my hands steady even though my soul trembles. I look him in the eye one last time. "Breathe with me." I whisper. "Then hold on." And then I cut.

Kaden asked, as he reached for the knife from the elder. I shook my head quickly. “No. I want to go first.” He raised a brow, probably surprised, but didn’t say anything. He handed the knife to me and held out his palm. I looked at his hand, held the knife tightly, and without thinking twice, I made the cut. It wasn’t a soft cut and I pressed harder than I needed to. The knife sliced deep into his skin, and I saw his hand twitch in pain. He gritted his teeth as the blood quickly flowed from the cut.

Kael stops smiling. "Don't bring my mate into this." His voice is ice. Flat. Dead. Clinton's mouth snaps shut. His eyes are wide. Wet. Tears spill down his cheeks. Kael stands up. Looks down at him. "Hold him." The Beta moves. Grabs Clinton by the shoulders. Forces him still. Kael raises the knife. --- The first cut is shallow. A line across Clinton's chest, from his left shoulder to his right ribs. Not deep enough to kill. Just deep enough to hurt.

No consent. Her screams echoed through the room as the scalpel cut deep. Seth stood by, voice cold and detached. "Proceed." Blood spilled across her gown—bright, heavy, and merciless. The scene was nothing short of brutal.

"I… I have no way out of this…" The professor, as it turned out, was the director of the hospital she worked in, and she was just a junior doctor, so she couldn't do anything to prevent the dissection. As the journalists set up their cameras and focused on Joey, the professor put on his surgical gown and took a scalpel, making the very first incision near Joey's ear. As bright red blood oozed out of his body, my mother-in-law clutched her chest and shrieked, while Winnie collapsed to her knees, soaked in cold sweat.