Knuckles Turning Black Novels & Stories

he exhaled and cracked his knuckles. Watching him more relaxed, I dared to ask, “What are these marks from? Every time I wake up, I notice my hands and ankles are purple bruised as if they were bound or restrained. Are you into fetich game you haven't told me about? I don’t mind if you have a kink, but I’d prefer if you confided in me.”

Something colder. His eyes are bloodshot, red-rimmed, sunk into hollows that weren’t there yesterday. The stubble on his jaw has crossed from rugged into unkempt. His knuckles are a horror — swollen, bruised purple and black on top of the splits from last night, crusted over and clearly never cleaned or bandaged. He’s wearing the same clothes. He hasn’t slept. Did I do this? Did my refusal to open that door kill something in him last night?

How do I conceal the wounds on my knuckles? “I'm waiting or else I'll have them bring down this door.” I open the door and resume back to my initial position. “I said I was fine man. You didn't have to come check on me.” “For starters, you don't look fine and secondly, everyone is worried sick about you. They’ve all been calling you but it's been going into voicemail. “I turned it off.” “You don't look good at all.” “I'm not.” “Jeez, your knuckles are all damaged!” Tony scolds

She says. I removed my hand from the light and what seemed to be a skeletal blueprint before, it immediately materialized the moment I removed my hand. Now, there was a shear glove over my left hand. I tried making a fist and saw micro scales moving. I even feel my knuckles hardening just enough but it was not too constricting. “You said you don’t want your knuckles to turn soft. The shell is hard, but it doesn't protect your knuckles that much so you can still keep your calluses.”

Panic flashed in his eyes, pure, unfiltered panic. “What the hell… are you okay?” I knelt beside him, reaching out to help, but the moment my fingers brushed his skin, he jerked violently and vomited more blood. I pulled back, but my eyes stayed locked on his. Something was wrong. I looked down at my hand, still resting on his arm, and noticed the skin beneath my fingers. His veins were turning black, dark lines spreading out like cracks in glass. They kept moving, snaking up through his chest, his neck, his face, until they reached his eyes.

Bells rang but I felt paralyzed. Finally opening my eyes, I looked around, the sunlight was dim, it was probably evening. I tried to lift my hand up from the table without looking at it, but I couldn’t, it was numb and cold. Taking a breath, I looked at my hand. It was in a weird shape. Purple and blue bruises lingered upon my skin. My hand was swelling up. Yellowish knuckles and greenish nails. It was definitely infected like my other bruises. They had smashed the hammer until my fingers were broken. Almost ten times or maybe more.

I turned to Rue whilst Aien took the water away. “I am fine,” Rue said but did not reveal his arm. “You do not have to…” I gripped his wrist, and he cried out in pain. His fingertips were blue around the nails and cold to the touch. He did not stop me from unwinding the bandage, his eyes closing as he set his head back onto the cushions. The last layer came away sticky, peeling away the skin, and we both drew in a shuddering breath, his in pain and mine in horror. Rue’s arm had blackened along the lines of his vein whilst the blood had oozed like ink…

The sharp black nails were visible. Alif inched back. He hit a long table so that bottles, injections, and other things fell apart. However, Alif's movement lost quickly to the kuntilanak. Kuntilanak flies off and pounces on Alif. Kuntilanak's pointed nails pierced Alif's chest. "Arrgh!" Alif is in pain. The tips of the black nails pierced deeper into Alif's skin until the blood came out. Alif tried his best to ward off kuntilanak's hand. Succeed! Kuntilanak was slightly uptight.

“Because of me. Again.” I had? Surprised, I looked at my hand holding the cup and discovered splits across my knuckles. Damn. I’d barely noticed. They weren’t bad. They’d be completely healed within a day or two. But now she’d seen them, and she’d probably notice when they weren’t there anymore. Shit. I was usually better with covering details like that. Nervously, I flapped my free hand. “It looks worse than it is. I’ll get better, you watch—”

I look back at Skinner. He hands me a small knife; I pulls up my shirt sleeve and cut a small line putting the same pressure Knuckles was and all I do is wince slightly. I wave the knife at him when I'm done. I see Knuckles smirking at me. The skin starts to tingle where I put the small cut and I feel a rush run through me.