Nerve Wreck Novels & Stories

"The ghost-root is a parasite that attacks the central nervous system. It freezes the pathways. Your beast fought like hell to burn the poison out of your blood, and the extreme heat in the vault saved your life. But when your human mind remembered what Damon did, your wolf forced you into a dead faint to protect your sanity." Veda pointed the tip of her cane toward Elana's motionless legs. "When you fainted, your heart rate plummeted and your blood pressure dropped. The residual toxin that was still fighting to survive in your bloodstream pooled in your lower half. The frostbite on your nerve pathways finally set in once your adrenaline crashed." Jax gripped the metal rail of the hospital b

"Only this helpless, sickly creature without a pack to call her own would consider a scumbag like you a treasure. Without you as her long-term meal ticket, she wouldn't survive a single winter." "As for me—a successful woman with the world at my feet—why would I ever be interested in a mangy loser like you?" "You—" Nathan was humiliated, his face turning a dark, swollen red, his blood pressure surging like a trapped beast. Just then, the door of the emergency room opened. The doctor came out and took off his mask. "The patient's legs have been saved, but unfortunately, the nerves are shattered. He will be paralyzed in his den forever."

The illness slowly destroyed the cerebral cortex—the part of the brain responsible for thinking and movement—turning them into empty shells. For the past two years, Dexie had been secretly developing a drug to repair damaged nerve cells. If it worked, her uncle might wake up. It could even help other patients trapped in the same nightmare, no matter the reason. Dexie stayed a while, speaking softly to Steven, as she always did. There was no rush to return to the lab today. First… she had to return to the Zellweger family. It was time to start her revenge. Leaving the inpatient building, she was walking toward the parking lot when a familiar voice called out—

So, Wendy went straight to Joseph's office, saying, "I know you have a way to let Frank speak again. Why is he still unable to talk?" Joseph didn't answer immediately. He simply finished the work in front of him before opening Frank's file and flipping through it. "Frank suffered neurological damage. His central nervous system and the autonomic nerves around his spine were affected. "Whether he recovers or not will depend on how the treatment progresses." Wendy frowned. "You've separated conjoined twins and reconstructed their nerves. You definitely have a way to help him recover. What do I have to do before you'll save him?"

And sometime after that, I heard the tense voices of several doctors and nurses who were going over my condition. "The patient has a comminuted fracture of the left leg, a severe fracture of the right wrist, and multiple soft tissue contusions…" "The CT scan shows a moderate concussion. Prepare for surgery immediately." "He has sustained severe nerve damage in his right hand. Even if it heals, it's quite likely he won't be able to regain normal use of his right hand again." As I took in what they said, an uncontrollable wave of hatred surged through me. Whitney, Kelly, and Samuel had already destroyed everything that I'd worked for, but that wasn't enough for them. They even wanted to ruin a

one shouted. A stretcher was quickly rolled out. I helped guide her onto it, my hands trembling as if they had a mind of their own. The nurses whisked her away, pushing her through the corridors toward the female ward. I followed, pacing and muttering prayers under my breath. I sank onto a chair outside, my entire body trembling from fear and helplessness. My mind replayed the moments I had just witnessed—her blood, her weakness, her silence. I had no idea exactly what had happened, but one thing was certain: something had gone terribly wrong.

The faint glow from it dimmed almost instantly. James exhaled, relief flooding through him but it didn’t last. The monitors spiked violently. “Brainwave instability!” Rine called. “Her neurons are collapsing into disarray. The interference broke the core pathways she’s losing motor retention!” James looked at the scan and froze. The neural map was deteriorating in real time, the synaptic patterns collapsing into chaos. “She’s rejecting her own memories,” Rine murmured in horror. “The implant’s destruction is causing retrograde disruption. We’re losing her long-term network!”

You mean that’s not my uncle? No, yes . . . we mean . . . Trent begins to freak out: Do you want to do THAT to me? Have we said we wanted to do that? Bill lowers his hand. He’s trying to smile, but his lips writhe and jerk. A doctor might diagnose that as a nerve issue, which wouldn’t be too far off. The bit of us that stayed in Bill and took total control, maybe it’s still trying to figure out how to drive that lump of flesh. After just a few hours in Trent’s well-tuned body, we’d started to forget the A-1 horrorshow of Bill’s sagging muscles and deadened nerves, his tendons like overworked rubber bands and his brain channels clogged with chemicals.

Northern territory. The second involved nerve damage spreading through the spine. The third was younger. Twenty-three. Internal organ collapse after poison exposure. “You accepted this one?” Iris asked quietly. Oliver nodded. “I think I can stabilize the poison.” “And the others?” He leaned back slightly in his chair. The movement looked older lately. More thoughtful. Less childlike. “The nerve damage already spread too far,” he said softly. “I could probably stop it from getting worse for a little while, but not reverse it.”

My Nash was back. But the reunion was short-lived. "We have to move," Kai said, his voice weak but urgent. I looked up. Kai was swaying on his feet, pale as a sheet. "The hex is broken, yes. But the cost is high. Look at him." Nash was trying to stand, using the wall for support, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. The neural shock—the sheer overload of information forced into his brain in seconds—had fried his synapses. His eyes were rolling back in his head, unable to focus.