Mc Blood-stained 소설 & 이야기

Clearly, everyone is on edge and not feeling very cheery because, under different circumstances, we would all be laughing right now. It’s only then that I notice something shady inside the dislodged box. “Guys, wait!” The crate is marked with huge red letters — ML — dusty, and sealed with brittle tape that cracks like dry skin as I ajar it further. The stench isn’t fresh — there is no blood, no rot — but something old and sour hangs in the air, like ancient dust laced with forgotten death. “Holy fuck,” Axel heaves.

Not just because of what had almost happened— what had happened— Six’s soft lips moving against mine, but because of the way Marco looked. He was drenched in blood. His once-crisp white shirt was splattered with it, dark red streaks staining the fabric in thick, dried patches. Even his hands were smeared in it. I had no idea whose blood it was. But Marco? Marco didn’t seem the least bit bothered. He took a step toward me. Six remained stiff at my side, silent, the blank expression back on his face like he wasn’t the one smiling and smirking at me only moments ago.

Please, not her. The hospital was a fluorescent-lit nightmare of antiseptic smells and muted cries. I burst through the emergency room doors, my eyes scanning the frantic, miserable crowd. I saw Marcus standing alone in a corner, his suit jacket gone, his white shirt smeared with dirt and—fuck—with dark, rust-colored stains. Blood. Aryn’s blood. I crossed the space in three long strides. “Marcus!” I barked. He turned, his face pale and filled with a guilt. “Lorenzo, I—”

Her eyebrows knit together slightly and she murmured, "Ethan? Is that… you?" But before I could answer, I heard a commotion from the other end of the bed. "Doctor, we're going to have to do something!" I turned to see it was that midwife, the woman who'd been helping her so much. I couldn't recall her name. There was also a doctor there, an older man, and the expression on both of their faces told me that the situation wasn't good. I glanced down at the bed and I understood why. Blood stained the white sheets. Crimson and sticky, it seemed to coat everything. It was even dripping onto the floor. I had been on battlefields most of my life, and I'd seen plenty of wounded and slaughtered wolves

“They’re getting ready to take the body to the morgue for the M.E. We’ll need Doc to sign off on the cause of death, but I reckon this is your show now.” They turned away to talk over some of the details with the paperwork. I took a few steps closer to the body. The blood was starting to congeal and made an unbroken red-black circle around the pile of flesh, like a bug squashed on glass. “Do you see what I’m looking at, Mills?” I asked. She came closer and stared at the same spot for a minute, then she got it. “Jesus,” she gasped. “There’s no tracks.”

Patchy blood stains, appearing unevenly, stretched from the pillow to the bed sheet. Located between the two beds on the right there was an iron door, which seemed to be the only exit in the room. In the middle of the room lay a small table, on which glass jars were presented of all sizes. In each jar it contained a thick red liquid, uneven in size. There were spilled jars lying on the countertop, liquid dripping from the inside onto the table, dripping drop by drop onto the floor. Just looking at it, can guess that the liquid is blood.

Her face had already turned pale. "Emergency!" Mr. Mac's thunderous voice echoed across the hallway. The entire area froze. Everyone turned toward the commotion. Yet even then, Mac refused to leave Belle's side. His eyes quickly scanned her body. Then he noticed the blood staining her hands and clothes. His face instantly hardened. "Young Mistress..." For a brief moment, pure fury flashed across his eyes. "You're bleeding." Belle finally looked down. Her trembling hands were covered in blood. Shine's blood.

That everyone in this room was witnessing. Tai drops the steel bar onto the ground, the sound clattering through me, the last thing I can handle, as he looks into Marek's cell. “Figures. You really are pathetic.” I can no longer hold back the urge to throw up. Bending at the waist, I’m sick all over the ground at my feet, at the foot of the cell. To my horror, it’s blood, scarlet red and spreading across the dark grey of the floor. I feel it hot against my lips, dribbling down my chin and into my cupped hands.

He turned it so his colleague could see. A small capsule. Red-stained at one end, cracked open. “That’s not blood,” the second medic said. A ripple ran through the students behind me. Bianca’s head snapped toward them. “What? That’s not— I don’t know what that is, it’s not mine—”

The Beta's complexion had taken on an ashen hue, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead under the warm glow of the restaurant's lanterns. With trembling fingers, Marcus reached into his suit and quickly fished out a handkerchief. He coughed several times into the white cloth, each one more violent than the last. When he finally recovered himself, Emma's medical eye immediately caught the large, crimson stain that had seeped into the pristine fabric. The virus was killing Marcus—rapidly breaking down his internal organs, causing hemorrhaging that no ordinary human could survive this long.