Waiting To Exsanguinate Novels & Stories

I wept, burying my face into the leather pillow, acting the part of the wronged, terrified child. Within ten minutes, the atmosphere in the room turned from hope back into chaos. The glass dials on the pumping machine began to chatter violently. "Doctor! The lady's blood is still drying up!" an assistant panicked, holding up a tray of Julianna’s extracted fluids. "The transfusion isn't stabilizing the necrosis! She needs more volume so we need to increase the flow from the donor!"

she interjected rudely, and I stopped, she glared at me, and I looked at Nico wondering if he would ever keep his maid in line. But his face was pale, his hands clamped together, and worry ruined his perfect face. How do I comfort this man, “Mr D’angelo” someone called coming from the corner, “im here” he replied, we all gathered around him, each of us having a different expression. “Sir, we have managed to stabilize her, but there’s a problem, her bone marrow is not responding to the trial treatment, she needs blood right now or she could die” he explained.

Too fast. “Damn it!” I hiss, glancing at the monitor. His blood pressure is falling, and his hemoglobin level is crashing. His PCV has dropped to a critical low, indicating severe blood loss. Oxygen saturation levels are also taking a nosedive, hovering at a precarious 80%. He's not getting enough oxygen - and it's affecting his entire body. He doesn't have much time. “We need a transfusion. Now!” “You!” I pointed to one of the nurses, a young woman whose name I can’t even remember right now.

Or was his affair so intoxicating that he could forget everything else? I turned to the last page of the divorce agreement and handed it to him. I forced myself to stay calm. “You can sign this—” Before I could finish, Matthew’s phone rang. Quilla’s slightly panicked voice came through. “Mr. Grant, it looks like the power is out at my place. Can you come? I’m scared.” Matthew jumped up with concern in his eyes. “Wait. I’ll be right there.” After hanging up, he signed the papers without reading them.

I let the sentence die on my lips. My gaze falls on Alexander. He lies on the bed, motionless as a statue. His once vibrant skin is now a pale, almost translucent shade, as if the blood has abandoned his body. Dark veins spread across his skin like a poisonous web, standing out cruelly against his pallor. Even on his face, they’re visible, creating a map of decay. It’s a glaring reminder that he’s slipping further out of my reach.

He violently squeezed his actively tearing, bloodshot eyes completely shut, actively fighting the catastrophic, raw panic violently tearing completely through his shattered soul. "You are actively dying, Singhania," Kiara stated smoothly, a terrifying, unimaginably dark smile aggressively spreading completely across her flawless red lips. She elegantly pointed the blinding flashlight directly at his completely mangled right hand, which was actively swollen to a highly toxic, dark purple. "The severe bacterial infection is actively poisoning your entirely failing bloodstream. Without immediate, highly potent intravenous antibiotics, your severely exhausted heart will violently stop completely

I pierced the skin, pulling the edges together, tying the knots neat and tight, just like I had seen someone do a thousand times before in some distant, blurry memory. But his face was still too gray. His skin felt like ice. "He needs fluid," I muttered, looking at the clear plastic tubing in the medical kit. "He lost too much. He's going to go into shock." "There's no plasma bags left, Elara," Sophia said, her voice hollow with exhaustion as she leaned against the wall. "We used the last one two days ago." I looked down at my own arm, then at hers. "Then he takes ours."

He just stared at me with his eyes. "We are using them. We tried five lines. His system is in shock. His blood isn't clotting fast because of the trauma. We're losing him. There's another problem." He paused, taking a breath. "The pup." My grip on his gown tightened. My knuckles turned white. "What about the pup?"

I floated in mid-air and looked down at my own body lying on the ground. My arm was covered in needle marks and bruises. I wasn't playing dead, no. Instead, I was truly dead. Ms. Ritter grabbed the blood bag and made a half-hearted show of tugging at me a few times. "Ronnie, just get up now. There's only 200 milliliters left to go." She failed to pull me up and instead stumbled backward a few steps, falling to the ground. The blood bag slipped from her hand and flew through the air, red blood splashing all over the floor.

Hart said. Bowman nodded and said, “At least there is one thing that the Death Judge is not kidding about. With the blood flow rate on the back of her hand, she will soon go into a coma and go into shock. She won’t be able to last for more than ten minutes. After that time, she will lose too much blood. Even if she survives, it will be difficult to save her.”