Scraped Knuckles Novels & Stories

Then another. His chest was scratched up, visible through the first few unbuttoned buttons of his black shirt. The fabric was damp, clinging to him like it had given up trying to fight gravity. His sleeves were rolled up carelessly, like he’d done it mid fight. And his knuckles….. God. Split. Raw. Bloody. The kind of wounds you get from punching, and not just once. My head shifted back, lips curling as disgust twisted in my stomach. What did he fight? A moving train?

My eyes then trailed lower, discarding the antsy feeling I got from looking at a naked torso and continued observing every cut and scar on his body. Finally, after scanning for quite a while, I saw something worth looking at. The way he was standing was unbalanced. He kept on shifting his feet, like he was trying to keep his weight on one foot. He seemed to do so mindlessly, like a man riding a bike. I knew then that I hit a jackpot. It was a quick win, I knew I could swipe at his foot easily but I wasn’t heartless. I promised myself that unless it was a pressing moment, I wouldn’t stoop that low. If I saw it right, then it appeared to be his knee cap, probably kicked from previous fights.

Omar sat on the edge of a table situated by the wall, close to the window which had no burglary and stared out into the morning with his right hand placed on the window still, his left hand which was injured was held up in a sling that went over his right shoulder. His left palm was placed over the injury on his abdomen where he had been shot and around it was a bandage. He absent mindedly ran his thumb over the spot as he looked down at the workers busy downstairs.

She seemed to know what it was. “So you know about it! That’s even better. Just one pill and I promise you’ll be crying out comfortably as you scratch your body happily!” Azure immediately poured a pill out. But then, he stopped again. He called two of his subordinates over and said, “Do you guys have a pair of scissors or nail clippers? This old hag’s fingernails are well maintained, and she won’t be able scratch it well later. Cut them sharply and make them into triangles, so that she could scratch it even better.” “Alright!” The subordinates immediately moved.

To fracture. Seven corridors branch outward like spokes. Seven. My pulse skips. To one side, a fully stocked kitchen gleames in stainless steel and marble — stocked not for presentation but for sustained habitation. Adjacent to it, a single corridor bears etched lettering in black glass: BUTLERS. Separate and defined. Each of the seven main corridors bears a gold plaque. Names etched into black glass and illuminated. I step toward mine. Lyria Vale. The letters glow softly. How long had they known? How long had they prepared this configuration? Silence thickens around us. We are reading and calculating.

Paid without asking me, tucked them under his arm, and walked back to the bike like it was nothing. "You didn't have to do that," I said. "I know," he said, securing them to the bike. I watched his hands while he worked. The knuckles on his right hand were split and bruised, the skin broken in two places, dark underneath. I had noticed it last night but we had been otherwise occupied and I hadn't asked. "Dylan," I said. "Mm." "Your knuckles." He glanced down at his hand. "What about them?"

I just followed. **** The room was all white, and quiet. And on the sick bed was Audrina, my baby sister. She was lying pale, unconscious, hooked up to tubes. Her lips were swollen. Her cheek was purple and puffy. There were marks on her neck—faint bruises like she’d been choked. Her arms had dark patches like someone grabbed her hard. Her wrist was bandaged. It looked like someone tried to erase her. “Audrina…” I choked, falling into the chair beside her. My knees barely held me up.

Nick chuckled “Of course I am you squid .....and i won !”Flora screamed happily dancing . “Yeah yeah yeah ,bravo !”Nick said dryly . “Just give me my prize already “ “We never had a bet you know “ “But give me something for this big win “Flora pouted . “As you say milady !”Nick said and stands up . He started moving closer to her while she moved backward .She stopped when her back hit the wall and her heart skipped multiple times as he stared intently at her .

The same remodeling bumps, only smaller. “Your stepbrother?” She nodded. “Do you have a plate here?” she asked, her fingers deftly dancing across my wrist. “Yes.” “And your knee?” We both glanced down at the second largest scar on my body. “Completely decimated. The femur shattered at the knee. There’s so much metal under that scar.” Her brow knitted, and she snuggled into my arms. “I wish I could take it all away.” I wish I could take it all away from you, too.

, he said bringing his knuckle forward "For Seattle high!" they all responded at once as they connected their hands with the coach's own. * * *