Spill Blood Chapter 1 Novels & Stories

Vivienne’s POV (Cont.) The box slipped from my hands before my mind could even process what I was seeing. It hit the floor with a dull thud. The lid cracked open and everything inside spilled out. Something wet and heavy landed first. It slapped against the tiles and spread slightly. I stared at it. My mind refused to understand. Red. White. Torn. It looked like flesh, cut into pieces and crushed together. Blood coated it. Thick. Sticky. It slowly spread outward, forming a dark, uneven pool across the floor.

Before I could react, she lunged, pressing the searing hot, silver cutter against the bare skin of my inner wrist. A strangled, silent scream tore through my lungs—a pure, blinding agony that eclipsed everything. The sickening smell of burning flesh and silk filled the air. The ornate dining room tilted, blurring into a sickening haze of glittering light and sheer, blinding pain. I collapsed onto the priceless Persian rug, a crumple of silk and agony, clutching the freshly branded, blistering wound. And neither one moved. They watched the new mark on my body, a brutal, lasting scorch that confirmed my defeat and Gianna's new place as their one and only priority.

My mouth filled with warm liquid, that tasted sharp like metal. I drop the wrap, spitting out what I had just placed into my mouth. It splatters across the table, Hermione jumping up to come to my aid. It was blood. My urge to vomit became so intense, I almost do so, however, I hold it in, spitting blood out onto the table. Hermione escorts me back to my quarters, to my bathroom, where I strip down immediately, stumbling into the shower. I spat blood all over myself, which I wash off promptly, while Hermione stands by, waiting for me to finish.

bringing me to the floor. Loud shrieks and detonations ring around me but my brain is too scrambled to understand the uproar going on. The body squeezes me,shielding me from lifting up.I didn't understand what was going on. I feel wet liquid trailing down my shirt. I look down and see blood spreading all over my white shirt..so much blood. I scream at the top of my lungs and pass out.

Chapter 18 ISLA Just as I bent my head, blood trickled down and touched the back of my palm. And another dropped again. I was almost panicking. What was happening? I raised my head up and looked at the vanity mirror in front of me. The blood came from my nose. I had a nosebleed. I quickly took out a tissue and wiped it off. I went to the restroom to wash my face. I got prepared again and went outside to meet the others.

But as I turned the pages, I was met with emptiness—a void waiting to be filled with knowledge and secrets long forgotten. “Huh?” Curiosity piqued, I traced my fingertip along the edge of the page, only to be met with a sharp prick as the book drew blood. “O-ouch!” Startled, I watched as crimson droplets stained the pristine surface, merging with the blank pages like ink on parchment. With trembling hands, I turned to the first page, my heart racing with anticipation. And as if by magic, words began to appear before my eyes, weaving a tale of destiny and prophecy that sent shivers down my spine.

Chapter 7 … … Lydia could wake up to the fresh smell of spices and cooked meat. She opened her eyes as the world was still vague and blurry around her, however she could notice a pool od crimson blood around her. Her eyes popped open widely as her breath was caught, as if an elephant was stomping on her chest. Her body was all frozen as she sensed the still warm blood soaking her body. She could move no part of her body any inch, but rather stay still in her place.

The deep red liquid spilled onto her shirt, staining it and spreading outwards like a macabre halo. The blood had already started to dry on her skin, leaving a dark, crusty trail that extended from her neck down to her chin. The sight of it made me feel sick to my stomach. As I looked closer, I noticed that the blood had also trickled down onto Clara's face, leaving smears of red on her cheeks and forehead.

CHAPTER 63 — Blood Debt The world had gone quiet. Too quiet. No birds. No wind. No voices. Even the fire had burned itself out. Only smoke drifting lazily through the trees like wandering ghosts. Sipho knelt in the dirt, the middle child in his arms. Their blood soaked through his clothes, warm at first. Now cooling. Sticky. Real. Too real. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He pressed his palm over the wound in their chest like he could hold life inside by force.

Damn. My heart pounds frantically in my chest as I feel something wet and sticky between my legs. With trembling hands, I reach down, my fingers coming away slick with crimson, the metallic scent of blood filling the air. God, why am I bleeding? Horror washes over me as I realize what's happening, and I feel bile rise in my throat, threatening to choke me. The blood continues to flow, staining the pristine floor beneath me in dark, ominous streaks, a stark contrast against the polished surface.