Stabbing Pain Under Left Shoulder Blade When Breathing Novels & Stories

Nat. I tried to stand up but I can't as my heart races all of a sudden. My breath becomes shallow and I'm left dragging in gulps of air. "Reece .. ?". I hear her voice. "Are you okay?". The pain spreads from my chest to my neck along to my throat which becomes itchy. My chest seems as if like a sumo wrestler is sitting on it. I take rasp short breaths at a time trying to stop the pain. Another knock sounds. "Reece .. Come on, open the door".

That’s when I feel a rush of wind on my left followed by a sharp prick in my shoulder. Looking back at my own body, I see a red dart sticking out of my upper arm. “What the fuuuu–” Everything goes black.

I lay in a mangled heap and grasp for air, mouth opening and body trying, but I’m like a fish out of water. Unable to do anything at all except whine under my breath, and claw weakly at the dirt around me, trying like crazy to inflate my lungs even an inch. My shoulder’s wet from a severe set of puncture wounds that extend up onto the side of my neck, and I know it’s probably my jugular that’s making the flow so intense. The throbbing coming from there, in time to my low and weak heartbeat, pulsing out my blood with every thud.

Just a moment. But I’m still here. I try to breathe. It feels like acid in my chest or a thousand knives dragging across the inside of my chest. I swallow thickly, exhaling loudly, my breaths ending in sputters and violent coughs, as if borrowed from some other body. The pain is everywhere, searing through my abdomen like molten iron, sharp and unrelenting. I attempt lifting my arm, groaning softly as I crane my eyes, taking in the odd bluish coloration it was having.

His shoulders tight like he was bracing for a blow. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I could not breathe.

My chest felt crushed, and every attempt to inhale sent sharp pain through my ribs. “Breathe,” Darren said, his hands on my shoulders. “Just breathe. You got the wind knocked out of you.” Slowly, painfully, air began to return to my lungs. Each breath hurt, but at least I could manage it. “Something hit me,” I gasped out. “My side.” Darren’s hands moved carefully over my ribs, checking for damage. I winced when he pressed on the right side. “Probably bruised, maybe cracked,” he said. “But I don’t think anything’s broken.”

They've been nailing our men to the ground with these fucking silver rods. We can't move once this is through us. Especially when it's through our torso. If it would have been through a fleshy part of my leg or arm, I might have been able to tear it out. But unfortunately, this is through my shoulder, just under my collarbone. I literally can't move. The pain is excruciating, the silver burns so bad. It feels like it's seeping into my veins. But I know that it's impossible, it's too soon... At least I think so.

The motion costing him – I could see it in the way his jaw clenched when his arms went above his shoulders, the muscles in his torso contracting around whatever Caleb's check had done to his ribs. The bruise on his shoulder was worse than I'd thought. Not just the thunderstorm purple – there was a deeper layer underneath, the kind that meant the tissue was damaged beyond surface level. His ribs on the left side were tender and discoloured. I pressed my fingers gently along each one. He breathed in sharp through his nose on the fourth. "That one might be cracked." "It's not." "You don't know that." "I know what cracked feels like. This isn't it." Flat. Certain. The voice of a man who'd catalo

A small plastic square, unassuming and utterly out of reach. I let out a quiet breath. Reaching it looked like a monumental task. I inhaled carefully and shifted my weight, inching toward the left. The pain hit instantly. Not sharp—searing. It exploded through my shoulder like fire under my skin, ripping a sound from my throat before I could stop it. The noise came out wrong—too raw to be a cry, too broken to be a growl. It startled me. That definitely would have been heard. Instinct took over. My right hand flew to my left shoulder, fingers pressing down as if I could physically hold the pain in place. The pressure met thick bandaging.

He got out of that shitty situation. He glanced around again. A few cars sped by. Not one driver paused to take a look at him. Maybe they all thought he was just a regular jogger in the area. He looked ahead and kept up his brisk steps. He could taste his own blood from his cut lip, and he could smell his own sweat, but he wasn't coughing up blood yet. Good sign. The consistent, annoying pain in his lower chest area whenever he breathed in was a symptom of something serious, though. The slight swelling and tenderness around his lower ribs, coupled with a little pinkish bruising on his abdomen, were also telltale signs.