Mc Blood-stained Novels & Stories

My hands trembled slightly as I prepared the needle. “Just a little, Liam,” I murmured softly, steadying my voice though tears pricked my eyes. “Mama’s here. Just a little.” I pricked his skin carefully, drawing the blood into the thin glass vial. My movements were quick, practiced. But the moment I tilted the vial to the light, my entire body froze. The blood… it wasn’t the right color. It wasn’t bright red. It was darker. Almost black at the edges.

My stomach flipped. I closed it fast, shoved it back, but my hands wouldn’t stop. They moved on their own, pulling out the drawer beneath it. A folded black shirt, stiff in places. I unfolded it and the rust-colored stains spread across the fabric like a map. Dried blood. There's a lot of it. The metallic tang made my throat close. I dropped it like it burned me. And that wasn't all, there was more.

Heavy. “Drake,” Grey called. I didn’t stop. “Drake, why don’t you wash up?” he said. “There are too many bloodstains on your body.” I glanced down briefly. Blood. Everywhere. Dried in some places. Still fresh in others. Not all of it, theirs. Some of it, hers. My jaw tightened. “No,” I said. My voice low. Final. “Let me see that she is better.”

The last time she had checked it was indeed very dirty but the stench wasn’t there then. Opening the door, she was horrified to see the condition of the studio. There was blood everywhere and it was then she realized that Ben Duncan hadn’t been able to get the place cleaned up. He was too busy saving Marcus’s life. The blood, paint, and dirt were causing the awful stench. She needed to clean it up immediately while the rest of the house could wait till tomorrow.

he grimaced, pointing at a trail of blood that led from the porch stairs to the car. I waved my hand dismissively. "It's not that bad..." I insisted, looking at the trail, which mainly consisted of droplets rather than a continuous flow of blood. "I beg to differ," Aunt Mara interjected from behind me as she closed the trunk of her car. She revealed a green and blue patterned fleece blanket that I recognized from its spot on the swinging chair on the porch, only now it was covered in what appeared to be blood. I gagged as I looked at it, the sight of blood having always made me feel sick and uncomfortable.

Damien’s voice cut through the air, his tone losing its usual cold edge. Before I could answer, a warm, thick rush of fluid soaked through the fabric of my clothes, spilling onto the light-colored rug. I looked down, my vision blurring as the unmistakable, deep crimson stain expanded rapidly. I was hemorrhaging. The sheer volume of blood was terrifying, pooling around me on the floor within seconds.

The phone screen went off after a minute, but then in the middle of her bed, there's a deep red stain. Red like blood. It's actually blood. Her menstrual blood. Definitely, Adeline is stained too.

I tried again, louder this time. My eyes wandered across the room. A flash of white caught my eye. A linen shirt was draped carelessly over the arm of the sofa. It looked out of place in a room so tidy. I moved toward it, intending to fold it, but as I reached out, my breath hitched in my throat. The fabric was cold. And it was stained. A jagged, crimson smear ran across the chest and down the sleeve. It wasn't the rust-colored stain of old wine or the brown smudge of vineyard mud. It was bright. The unmistakable stain of fresh blood.

The plates that I had just finished washing were just dispersed among the trash can and the clutter that was already on the ground. I just bowed my hand and replied stiffly. "That idiot, he did it!" That guy is filling my mind to the brim, and I want to grab his arse! I cleaned once again, and as I was taking out the trash one by one, my eyebrows sprang up when I spotted the bloody tissues in the trash. I thought to me, "Is it really blood? Red indicates that it is not ketchup or paint. I am aware of their distinctions. Hmm, perhaps he hurt himself while cutting? However, why is it so high?

The smell stuck in my throat. "Lab," she finally said, snapping her case shut. "Need to run tests." The walk there was awkward. What do you talk about with someone you've only met because of dead children and mutilated cattle? Marina walked fast, almost jogging. I kept up.. The lab was too bright after the dark outside. Marina immediately started pulling things from cabinets, slamming them on the counter. "Third shelf. Blue label. Methylene blue." I found it, handed it over. She was already bent over the microscope, adjusting knobs with the kind of focus that meant don't fucking disturb me.