Problem Solved Bloody T-shirt Novels & Stories

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.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and his voice was hoarse to the bone. Tommy didn't dare to be late for a second, he quickly stepped forward to take off his shirt to help Derek. But as soon as he took off Derek's shirt, Tommy was shocked by the blood stains on his white shirt. “Why are you injured like this?” The silk cloth had stuck to the wound to a large extent, and the blood had gradually dried. Tommy's hands were shaking, after two tries he couldn't completely remove Derek's shirt. Bleeding wounds can be seen even from the outside.

The kind of scent that made your nose crinkle before your brain even figured out why. I shook it off and got to work. The first piece I pulled out was my leggings—there was a faded stain on the waistband, but nothing too crazy. I could work with that. Maybe some boiling hot water, a little detergent, some serious denial? Yeah, they might make it. “Okay, you live,” I mumbled, tossing them into a separate pile. The survivors. Next came a t-shirt. White, ironically. With a very not-so-white splotch smack in the middle of the chest. It looked like someone sneezed on it and tried to cover it up with glitter glue. Absolutely not.

One on my chin, the other on my back. “I’m not letting you go, Hope.” His voice is strangely anguished and I open my eyes again to peer at him. Blake’s expression remains unreadable. “You’re still bleeding.” Under the sole yellow lightbulb that hangs from above a stark white ceiling, Blake proceeds to remove his shirt to reveal all his muscled glory. “What are you doing?” My voice comes out unsure. Blake ignores me and pulls his t-shirt over his head. I stare wide-eyed at him as he starts to rip his t-shirt, shaping it into a long rectangular fabric.

He is being frames but only God knows why. Joel is not only an animal but a bloody monster who should be dealt with in the most severe way. The trial was progressing and the odds were not in Freddie's favour. Something drastic has to be done or else Freddie was not only going to lose the case but his life as well because I had a strong feeling that Joel will not stop until Freddie is wiped out completely.

When she did she saw he was wearing black Chuck Taylors today—real ones, not off-brand like hers. Of course, he has a job, she thought. He can buy whatever he wants. He was staring at her and his expectant smile was starting to fade around the edges. She realized she’d never answered him. “Um, yeah,” she said. “Loads better.” He wore a white T-shirt with a black-and-white photo of a soldier repeated four times on it in a square. On the side it read THE SMITHS in big black capital letters. “What’s that? Some kind of ad for the town?” she asked, pointing at his shirt.

Bianca looked apologetically at Frost's shirt, knowing that it must be expensive and custom-made, with the bottom embroidered with a floral letter "L" "Usually, I can wear my shirt three times, but now I can get a new one ahead of schedule!" Frost replied. "That's so wasteful! Take it off, I promise to clean it for you, at least another 30 times!" Although this behaviour had never belonged to Frost, he still cooperated and took off his shirt, revealing a white short-sleeved T-shirt made of island cotton underneath, which clung to his lean figure. However, Bianca had cried so hard just now that her tears and snot had seeped through the shirt and dirtied the T-shirt.

I said and stood up, she nodded in response though her face still looked so worried. The pain in my skin doesn't just go away easily, I lied when I said it’s not hurt but what can I do? I can take it when Sheena is looking like about to cry, maybe it will be relieved if I wet it with cold water. I also tried to remove the coffee stain from my white blouse, when I thought it was already fine, I left the CR and returned to my table. Sheena was still there and sitting on the side, when she saw me, she immediately stood up.

I rolled down the window to get some fresh air. This car was packed with too many hot men. I couldn't breathe. "He's the only one who's wearing a cotton shirt," Darren said. "You're wearing a cotton shirt," I said. "Yeah, I know. But I don't want it to get dirty." Darren shrugged and said. Finn looked down and saw the blood stains on his shirt. He took off his shirt reluctantly and handed it to Darren. "Nice tattoo," Darren commented while he was shredding the shirt into strips.

This was supposed to be my safe place. "I was thirsty after waiting for so long. I came to claim my price. You have no idea how long I have searched for your blood Dawn Atkins. I would be the first to taste it and be the only one after" I gaped at him. He was truly insane. "What the hell are you blabbing on about? You're a fucking psychopath so I suggest you get out of my house or I will call the cops" I threatened, trying to appear braver. Shit, he was with my phone.