Sudden Dent In Thumbnail Novels & Stories

“Because I’m going to make sure this hand never gets excited about hurting anyone again.” I placed my own hand over his, my grip gentle. Almost kind. Then I pressed down. The sound of bones popping out of their sockets was deeply satisfying. Taylor’s scream was less so, high-pitched and grating, but necessary. I dislocated his thumb first, then his index finger, working my way across each joint with the precision of someone who’d done this many times before. Not enough to permanently cripple him, but enough that he’d remember this moment every time he tried to make a fist for the next few months.

To think I'd have the most important person by my side was a foolish thought. I bet he doesn't even care that I'm gone, that way he won't have to reject me like he wanted to. A snap in my thumb caused me to gasp in shock and look at it, then another snap followed to my index finger. My finger bones started to snap and my fingers looked as though they were broken.

Careful not to brush against his hand again, I lean in and look into his mouth, checking the rest of his teeth, but not seeing a single thing that worries me. “Do you have any history of teeth grinding or ice chewing?” As I look at his teeth, I can see the answer is no on both accounts. He confirms my thoughts with a quick shake of his head. “That damage seems minimal, and I'm confident that we can quickly fix this. Because of the type of crack that it is, I'm reasonably certain bonding is a good way to go.” I'm still peering into his mouth, and I can feel his fingertips gently brush my leg as I stand over him. My gaze ticks to his, and I can't help but wonder if he's doing this on purpose.

I grit my teeth as Zanthe works to heal the bruising. The numbness fades quickly, and I move back to put some space between us. With a calculated spin, I launch a roundhouse kick aimed at his legs. It’s like kicking a tree trunk, the impact reverberating up my leg, but I see the slightest flinch in his stance. He’s not immune to the pain—good. As he moves again, I notice a faint limp.

Then that morning, my right hand suddenly gave out while I was pouring hot water. The cup crashed to the floor, scalding water splashing everywhere. The exam room reeked of disinfectant. Dr. Stafford studied my MRI and nerve test results, his brow tightening. "Why did you wait so long to get this checked?" My heart dropped. "Is it that bad?" He sighed, clipped the scans to the lightbox, and pointed near the base of my thumb. "The nerves and tendons here have permanent damage. There's atrophy and scar tissue.

Zack Thompson was so angry that he kicked the chair, “You dare to be impudent to Mr. Russell Raines? See, I will kill you!” While saying this, Zack Thompson suddenly felt someone was holding his right hand. The hand holding it felt really strong. Nicko immediately grinned and said, "Fine, then I'll give you twelve sounds!" Zack Thompson immediately asked, “Twelve sounds? What's that? You want to play music with me?” Nicko didn't say anything but immediately stepped closer to Zack, grabbed the thumb of the man's right hand, and slowly pushed him back. After that there was a 'crack' sound, and immediately his thumb snapped and bent backwards. In an instant Zack screamed in pain.

Chapter 41 Knew *** POV: Denvereaux Thorne “Hey! Get ready!” He heard one of their comrades said. Denver instantly got up when he suddenly felt dizzy. His eyes were getting blurred but as he blinked thrice and slightly shook his head, it became clear. Denver thought that it was just a simple thing, but then he felt something in his arm. His eyes widened as he saw the small bruise that Shea gave him when she attacked him a while ago. It was turning bluish purple, and it was creeping into his veins – slowly, but it was already making his arm numb.

He doesn’t know whom to believe, so he believes no one anymore. Jenny’s fingers relaxed from the palm of her hand. Her nails left four crescent-shaped imprints on her palm. The skin inside these imprints turned white, while the surrounding skin turned red. Her hand hung limp at her side, and her fingertips touched the rough stone pavement. The rough surface scraped against her fingertips, producing a “scraping” sound.

Not that I care. I hold out my left hand for a shake. He stares at my hand in confusion and then shakes it begrudgingly. In one quick, fluid motion, I tighten my grip on his hand, turn his hand over and with my right hand, slice the pad of his thumb with my blade. I then quickly press his thumb down onto the card leaving a bloody thumbprint behind.

Second p‌in is s⁠pr⁠ing⁠-loaded. I closed my eye‌s,‍ tuning ou⁠t the cold,‌ tuni‍ng out th⁠e throbbing‍ pain in my‌ split cheek, focusing‌ e‍n⁠tirely on th‍e tiny‌, metallic vibrations r⁠‌unning dow‌n the steel pin int‌o my th⁠umb. ‘Click.’‍ ‌T⁠he firs⁠t tumbler‍ g⁠ave way⁠⁠.