Tangan Sakit Ketika Menggenggam Novels & Stories

The lock gave way with a soft click, the chains falling to the ground, the sound echoing in the silence. I stood, my legs unsteady, my palm throbbing as blood streamed down my fingers, soaking my sleeve. I moved to the gates, my injured hand fumbling with the shard as I worked on the lock there, the glass slipping in my grip, cutting me again. I stifled a groan, the pain nearly blinding, but I forced myself to focus, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

At that moment, her heart was dead. These days, with a combination of medication and physical therapy, her knuckles were much better and had been pain-free for a long time. However, seeing Xiao Ziqi and Hao Yimeng together now brought to mind images of her fingernails being pulled out. Then, her hand... Began to hurt again. Suddenly, a pair of big hands closed around her trembling, aching hands. An elegant baritone voice rang in her ears. "Your hands are cold."

I just hoped it wouldn’t take too long. I sat by the edge of the water, over a submerged rock and took a deep breath, feeling the gentle breeze brush through my wet hair. I noticed my right hand was still stiff and sore, so I started to massage it, using the same techniques that Diana had shown me countless times before. I focused on my fingers, rubbing the scars left from the surgery, then flexed them, repeating the exercises to regain flexibility and strength.

Something that keeps burning him. Caught in a whirlwind of thoughts, a sudden surge of heat courses through our intertwined hands. Unsure if it stems from anger, his touch grows increasingly warm, then hot—almost scorching. My expression shifts, and I attempt to wriggle free, but his grip tightens, refusing to release me. The burning sensation intensifies, and with each failed attempt to break free, I find myself longing for escape from his unyielding grasp. "Austin, my hand," I said still trying to tug my hand from his grip but he didn’t seem to hear what I said. "My hand, Austin, you’re hurting me."

I hissed loudly, my hands gripping the edge of my wooden chair so hard my knuckles turned completely white. The burning pain was sharp and intense. I instinctively tried to pull my leg back. His massive hand tightened like an iron vice on my skin. "Hold still," he commanded. The grip was absolutely unyielding, but his voice was surprisingly calm.

Camila I’ve chewed my thumbnail down to the quick. The skin splits, blossoming red. Hissing in pain, I shake my hand out, clenching my fingers. I have to quit this bad habit one of these days. I always do it when I’m stressed. And right now, I am very stressed.

I folded it and pressed again until the bleeding slowed. My hands were shaking as I reached for the vegetables. I pulled out a carrot and a knife and set them on the cutting board, but my fingers couldn't seem to grip the handle properly. The knife clattered against the board, and I had to stop and press my palms flat against the counter and take a breath. My shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat, and my jaw was stiff and sore, and I could already feel the swelling starting to puff up the skin under my chin.

My right hand was free. I didn't waste a single second. I reached across my body and clawed at the thick hemp rope binding my left wrist. 'Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.' My fingers were trembling, I could barely grasp the knot. The rope was incredibly thick and rough, the coarse fibers biting into my skin like a knife. I dug my fingernails into the tight loops, pulling and twisting with every ounce of strength my body possessed. A sharp spike of pain shot through my hand as one of my nails bent backward and snapped.

Guess I always knew those silly skills they teach you would come in handy one day. I start to move and twist my wrist from side to side. Nothing. It is not moving an inch. I twist and twist again. Then I go with more intensity than before. Nothing. The minute the pain becomes too must, then only do it stop. I twist and pull from each angle. I pull, and I pull. Nothing. Every time I feel that the ropes move my way, it tightens in another. I bite down onto my teeth. I rip my hand with absolute force.

LYRA My left hand feels restless. There is a constant warmth and tingle that sends sparks throughout my whole body. The feeling is not foreign, but I cannot seem to place where I have felt the sparks before. As soothing as the warmth and the tingles are, my fingers are begging to move. Twitching my fingers one at a time, I groan at the stiffness of my knuckles. Each movement is accompanied by a dull, throbbing ache. As I move each finger, the warmth tightens around my hand making it harder to move.