The Bleeding Five Finger Death Punch Novels & Stories

An uppercut toss him meters away. His tooth forcefully depart his tooth. He bleed and groan non stop. I leap with a massive punch directly to his chest. It burys him deeper into the ground. He also forcefully puke black coloured blood. But I care less. I roam his pretty face with numerous punches. My every punch highly disfigures him. He scream non stop and continually battles survival. I finally stop. I stare distained at his disfigured face. He gasp for slow arriving breath. I aim another punch.

He seemed delighted as he walked toward Rafael, trailing his eyes over all the fingers on his hands and feet. “What are you going to do?” he asked nervously. “Ahhhh! Huhoho! Fuck!” he screamed when suddenly his index finger was cut off. He peed himself from the unbearable pain. He felt like he was going to die. “Hahaha… hoooooo! Success!” Deadbeat couldn’t contain his laughter when he saw the captive wet himself from the pain. He felt satisfaction. He quickly caught the severed finger and even bragged about it in front of Blood Claw.

I THOUGHT I WAS PREPARED TO SEE THAT, BUT IT WASN'T THE CASE. I should have seen it coming. It wasn't as shocking as Avy's death, but still. Daisuke Maël Maximillian. The great Prince between the greatest. It was his dagger that killed me. I don't know exactly how it happened. How I got attacked, but it was his dagger and pretty much his doing. But the worst part is: I'll die in two years.

Am I falling for again or I never stopped loving her. He rubbed his forehead frustratingly. It was late night when Sarah finished her work and decided to head home. William dropped her home and she walked inside. When she entered the hall she stood frozen in her place when she saw the Chaos in front of her. Xavier, Ace and few men were standing there. One more man was standing in front of them beaten into pulp. Her nose, lips everything was bleeding. "Where is the fucking money?" Ace yelled punching him again and Sarah whimpered looking at the brutal blow.

His hands were open at his sides. "Hit me," he said. "With what?" "Your hands. Your feet. Your head. Whatever you can." I swung. He caught my fist. Held it. "Too slow," he said. "I'm trying." "Try harder." He let go. Stepped back. "Again." I swung again. He caught my wrist, twisted, and I was on the ground. Again. "Dead," he said. "That's the fifth time." "Then stop dying." He held out his hand. Helped me up.

Grimly and with no eye contact whatsoever, the men did as Keegan instructed. “OK, now,” Keegan continued. “Clasp your other hands together.” Adam and Nick did, and Adam found himself wondering about a few things. First, having other guys all up in his space was nothing new. He’d been a pro boxer, of course, and his official work uniform had been nothing more than a pair of shorts, shoes, and gloves. He’d been up-close and personal with hundreds of sweaty, grunting, half-naked men, so why being all pressed up on a fully-clothed one was doing his head in was a bit of a mystery.

My ring finger hit the floor before the pain reached me. All I heard was a clean, brittle crack. The severed finger, still wearing the Ossuary Signet, rolled across the expensive, handwoven carpet. Blood sprayed out, splashing over the crystal-studded heels of Sofia Constanzo. "How horrible. There is so much blood," Sofia screamed and collapsed into Luca Rossi's arms. The man gripping the bloodstained cigar cutter was someone I had trusted for 20 years and loved for ten.

If she ever found out the truth and blamed the wrong person, would she regret how she had treated me? I was shivering and gasping for air. My legs gave out beneath me, and I dropped to my knees. A sharp pain shot through my stomach, and then another mouthful of blood. But this time, it was different—the blood was black. I remembered what the healer once told me—if I ever vomited black blood, that would be the end. So, was this it for me? If my parents heard I had died, would they feel even a little bit sad? I fought to stay conscious, blinking through the blur as my vision began to dim. I could barely see my parents' retreating figures.

The first thing that appeared on screen was chunks of flesh flying around, and blood splattered everywhere. The video was crystal clear. Every face and every voice was captured perfectly. "This is just a minor accident. Only one person died. You won't lose anything even if you bear the main responsibility…" "One person died, and you call that a minor accident?" In the video, my furious outburst, Bertha's indifference, and Owen's coaxing and tempting Logan were all recorded clearly. According to the influencer, as it was summer break and the campus was empty, she'd gone to shoot some content, pretending to be a student.

What he saw was emptiness—an absolute, eternal, icy void. Connor stood there with his head bowed for a long moment before suddenly saying in a low voice, "Sylvia, stop messing around. This isn't funny. Get up and yell at me!" His entire body trembled. Then, like a man possessed, he tore the severed hand free and let out a raw, explosive scream. "Get up! I'm telling you to get up! Do you hear me? Sylvia, get up now!" Ignoring the blood and the gruesome state of the remains, he threw himself onto my dismembered body and shook the broken pieces frantically.