Internal Bleeding In Arm Novels & Stories

“In here.” I stepped inside, and everything in me stopped. Finn was on the floor. Cecilia beside him, both hands wrapped around one of his like she could hold him here by force. The healer knelt over his arm, but the look on his face told me enough before he said a word. Finn’s skin had gone grey. Sweat covered his face, his body shaking so hard his teeth clenched together. The bite on his arm was black around the edges, and dark veins crawled from it, spreading under his skin like roots.

The weight of the statement was enough to send their hearts plummeting. Choking up as he spoke, Sebastian continued, "The most life-threatening injury is internal organ damage and bleeding. The Orchidstrike Needle Art technique is only slowing the bleeding, but his injuries are too severe. Even if he makes it through the night, he may not survive the next three days.

They were worried about his health. Once they arrived, they found Jacob smoking a cigarette in the car park. His arm was in a sling. His fingers to his upper arm were swollen. Black blisters were forming on his lower arm abd the back of his hand. His arm was pulsing with pain. The skin was tight and looked like if you took a pin and poked it, it would pop like a balloon.

“X-ray. Now. I need to know what we’re dealing with.” The X-ray came back five minutes later. Broken arm, clean fracture, easy to set. But there was something else. A shadow on her abdomen that shouldn’t have been there. Internal bleeding. Again. “OR,” I said. “Move.” The surgery took three hours. The bleeding was slow, a trickle, not a gush but it was deep. Hidden. I had to search for it, layer by layer, while the child’s vitals wavered on the monitor beside me.

"I always thought you could understand the unique nature of my relationship with Jordan. My migraines have been acting up lately, so find a time to give me a massage." I smiled and used all the strength in my left hand to lift my right. The fingertips that had massaged her head countless times now throbbed with pain as they entered her line of sight. "Here, let me show you, Ashley." Biting back the searing agony, I rolled up my sleeve, exposing what I usually covered up. Doing so revealed my swollen, bruised, and deformed right arm.

I thought Monica was only being dramatic, but no, this was real. I whimpered out of bed and stood before the full length mirror to have a proper look at what I was becoming. The tear I sustained on my left arm from the wild plant in the woods had become inflamed, leaving my left arm varicosed. From the region of the tear, the poison had branched to my neck and down my left arm. The venom had crawled to my left chest, looking like one ugly lame tattoo. I gulped down saliva that I didn't know was hiding somewhere in my jaw. The sight was repulsive and downright fearsome to me.

On my arm, several shocking bruises—deep purple and red—were clearly visible. The guests in the audience noticed it too. “What happened to Jacob’s arm?”

“You have been asleep for two days now.” “But what happened?” I scooted away from the wall and was going to reach for him when another pain shot through my shoulders. “Ouch,” I screamed, falling back on the bed again and closing my eyes. As the pain intensified, I suddenly felt a sticky sensation in my left arm. I opened my eyes and threw a glance at the arm, but the sight I beheld took the breath out of my lungs. I was bleeding, there was a wide cut just a few inches away from my armpit.

It glances off his chest with a hard thump. Instead of falling over, he pauses, then looks at me with murder in his eyes. Ares is in awful shape, but his anger is beyond feeling mortal pain. I try to secure my sword with both hands, but it’s impossible. My bad arm feels numb, but not numb like I would expect it to with a severe shoulder injury. I look down at my arm. Black veins are spreading down to my fingers. I crane my neck to see my shoulder. The edges of the wound are black and peeling away from my body.

Something hard protrudes under the fabric on one arm where there should be smooth muscle and flesh. Arms smashed? And a knee-cap too... What was used? The answer's clear enough. On a side-table lie a hammer and a crowbar. I don't touch them, but again, blood smears over the dull metal surface. Baxter's quite helpless. Gun still raised, I move closer for a better look at his hands. They're a bloody ruin, the fingers smashed, almost jellified. Flesh and blood and bone drip red to the floor. No possible surgery could repair this damage.