Problem Solved Bloody T-shirt Novels & Stories

“This is not going to come out, is it?” I look down at my shirt. “Of all the nights I didn’t wear black.” Grimacing, I pull my shirt over my head, trying not to get blood on my face. “I guess I’ll just toss it.” I roll my shirt up the best I can, keeping the blood and guts on the inside, and put it in the kitchen garbage, tying the bag shut and putting it in another to make sure the smell of blood isn’t detectable.

I grabbed a pair of scissors from my drawer and sliced through the packing tape. "Oh my God," I gasped, my hands instantly flying to my mouth as a terrified scream tore from my throat. Lying inside the box was a crumpled white university T-shirt covered with blood, with my photo on top. I stumbled backward in pure horror as I stared at the bloody shirt sitting on my desk. There was a small card by the side. I picked it up with shaky hands. ‘If you stay by his side, this isn't just going to be on your clothes next time. It's going to be leaking out of your skin.’

I braced up and sat on my seat, ready for the meet and greet. The door opened again and he came in, his aura filling the entire room. The black bold tattoo on his arm was visible because he had rolled up his sleeves. The design was more distinct than the last time I saw him and I wondered if he'd added more to it. The collar of white shirt was stained with dry blood and there were splashes on his face and palm too. I wonder whose blood it was. One of the men passed him a white handkerchief and he tried cleaning off the mess but it was futile.

Seven's white t-shirt is stained on the chest. I watch in horror as Seven falls on the ground, blood oozing out of his body. All I can see is Blood! Blood! Blood! 💀💀💀💀💀

"No, no, no, no..." "I've never seen you with so much concern in your eyes for me," I try to giggle but it only comes out as a bloodied cough. "Zara, this is not the time to be fucking funny." He takes off his shirt, trying to use it as a means of stopping the blood near my stomach. "Hold on, please. Just hold on a bit longer. I have men on the way here, they'll..." He stops as he takes in the sight of me. The dark liquid has absorbed through the material in an instant.

"Are you a Badblood too, huh? What can you do?" Serra almost caught out of breath. She was kicking and clawing the Badblood. Her head seemed to blow up. Renaaaaaaaaa Then suddenly, Rena appeared behind the Badblood and slit his throat. Blood sprayed to Serra's face and they both fell down to the ground. Serra was coughing and gasping for air while the Badblood was gagging and holding her bleeding neck. Blood continuously poured out between his fingers until his last breath. Rena quickly came beside Serra and helped her to her feet.

I nod, too exhausted to argue. My T-shirt clings to my skin, dotted with specks of dried blood—none of it mine, thankfully. Anthony's shirt tells a different story, the fabric saturated with deep crimson stains along his left side. "You need to change," I say, gesturing to the gruesome evidence of the days' violence. "Here." I pull open the backpack and bring out two fresh items of clothing. I hand him his, and suddenly feel shy, realizing that I need to take my current shirt off.

A strap tied his thick curls back, and he had secured an ancient-looking blade to his back. He was lethal. And as she watched his claws sink into the flesh of Alpha Kai's neck, she had never been more grateful. "She. Is. Mine." Evander snarled, his eyes shining yellow. A tarp now covered the shattered windows of the office, and someone had cleaned up most of the evidence of yesterday's saga. But as a fresh crack in the plaster appeared under Alpha Kai's body, a wave of guilt passed over Sapphira, and as Alpha Kai started to make a gurgling sound, her fingers found Evander's arm.

When she walked in to the loving area, the first thing her mind registered was the pungent scent of rusted metal—no—blood. There he was in the middle of it. He was unbuttoning his stained dress shirt with a cold but calm demeanor. His expression was blank and he looked like a demon ascended straight from hell. His black leather shoes were sole deep in the pool of blood that that at his feet. Rain stopped in her tracks and a scream lodged in her throat. Alexander took the shirt off and handed it over to Enzo who stood right next to him. Enzo’s expression mirrored Alexander’s . They both peered down at the scene in front of them, one Rain knew Alexander had created.

No more excuses. And if I'm going to be a better, stronger person, I can start by sucking it up and dealing with these T-shirts already. Even if every time I see that stupid embroidered "Huntington Manor" logo I feel like I'm being stabbed in the gut. I get to work, making my way through an entire pile of hot pink shirts and half a pile of the electric purple ones before I find my gaze drifting back over to Ward.