Knuckles Crying นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I dig my nails into my palms, making crescent moons. I turn back to the window, trying to hide my tears from Kenli Incase she looks my way. I can't let her see. I can't let anyone see me cry. It's pathetic, just like me. I rest my forehead against the glass. The road isn't smooth. Making my forehead bounce against the glass. I take deep breaths, closing my eyes, pressing my forehead harder against the glass. My fingernails digging so hard into my palms; I feel the hot liquid oozing out lightly.

He turned his eyes burning with a raging temper. Odd. Listening to him feels like the oddest thing he ever said. The tension in the room can be sliced into half with a knife. My eye caught a distraction. In flight I came in front of him, grabbed his hands and carefully stared at the purple, and angry injuries that marred his right knuckle. “Your hands. What happened to your hands you never took care of yourself? I’ve always warned you not to hurt your knuckles. Sit still while I clean it up.”

My knuckles had turned white as I gripped tightly onto the wheel. My shoulders jerked back when I felt a tiny palm on my shoulder. “Uncle, are you okay?”

His sobs turn into guttural noises, like his body is giving out from the overload of pain. Kade finally releases him, letting his hands slip from the basin. The guy screams as soon as air touches his fingers, his hands useless, the combination of burning, swelling, and nerve pain making it impossible for him to move them properly. His wrists tremble, his fingers curling in on themselves like his body is still trying to shield them from the pain. Kade steps back, tilting his head slightly as he watches the guy completely fall apart in the chair. “Get him out of here.”

Katerina I've chewed my thumbnail down to the quick. The skin splits, blossoming red. Hissing in pain, I shake my hand out, clenching my fingers. I have to quit this bad habit one of these days. I always do it when I'm stressed. And right now, I am very stressed.

But instead of hearing the door latch, I hear a sharp groan of pain. Glancing down in alarm, I see Bill's hand wedged between the door and the frame, stopping it from closing completely. Bill quickly withdraws his hand, clutching it close to his chest. I notice his knuckles are swollen and discolored, clear signs they've taken a harsh beating. "My God, what happened to your hand?" I ask. Quickly, I unlatch the chain and step out of the apartment to get a closer look at Bill's knuckles. They look even worse up close.

Fed up with everything, I spat out with tears flowing down my eyes as I hit my knuckles hard on the office door, without caring about the way I heard my bones crunch as I did so. "Damnit!" With more tears spilling out, the more I shedded tears was the more I broke my knuckles and hit harder, inflicting on myself, nothing but self harm. "Why!" Questioning no other thing than my shitty reality itself, with my boiling blood I wiped my tears off and lifted my hands up again to keep on venting my anger out on the only thing that served as my punching bag: The metal door, but lifting up my hands to keep crushing my bones, it never did happened, cause as soon as I lifted my hands up, I got the most

I noticed something dropping from my hand; my knuckles hurt. Shit, I was still bleeding. I tore some tissue paper and cleaned it up. Then I rinsed off my knuckles before wiping them with tissue again. I would have to tend to that properly. But first, I had to find a way to get the hell out of here. "Come on, somebody! Anybody, open the damned door!" I bellowed, annoyance evident in my tone, as I advanced towards the door to bang it once more. However, I was taken aback when it was thrown open without warning.

My thumb hovered for a second before I pressed the red ‘end call’ button. But the moment the call disconnected, Kraven’s voice cut through the silence. “What was that? And why were you crying?” His tone was gentle but edged with concern as if he had to ask, even though he didn’t want to push. I opened my mouth to say something, anything that could cover up what I was feeling, but the truth was, my face had already betrayed me. My attempt at being composed and looking like nothing happened failed. The more I replayed Granny’s words in my head, the more the tears slipped free without permission.