Waiting To Exsanguinate Novels & Stories

My blood sugar dropped again, and my heart wasn't getting enough blood flow. My vision went black, and I collapsed in the living room. I found myself in the hospital emergency room when I woke up. The air reeked of disinfectant. I opened my eyes and saw Susan next to me. "Charlotte, since you're awake, let's go to the blood transfusion room." I lowered my head and saw an agreement for a blood transfusion. Susan's name was written in the recipient column.

Understand now? Tara froze, staring at me in shock. I did not care. I turned around to leave, but a shadow blocked my path. I looked up. I did not know how long he had been standing there. Ethan's bloodshot eyes told me everything. He had cleaned himself up, trying to look sharp, but no matter how polished his appearance, eyes never lied. No one could fake the exhaustion of countless sleepless nights. His voice was hoarse and tinged with nervousness. "I didn't know she came here. I'll send her away right now, Lana."

"Vivian has a severe clotting disorder! She just had sudden acute abdominal pain — suspected corpus luteum rupture with internal bleeding! If she hemorrhages, she could go into shock at any moment. The blood and Sterile Suite 3 have to be reserved for her!" "Hers is only suspected! Daniel's intracranial pressure has already blown — he's going to die any second!" "What are you saying? Vivian's life doesn't matter?" "I can't gamble with Vivian's life. Your brother is already a cripple — waiting an extra hour for the surgery won't kill him!" Vivian peered out from behind him, her left index finger wrapped in a strip of gauze. The gauze was clean. Not a speck of blood.

She wiped the blood from his chin with a gloved thumb, gentle despite the chaos. Noah didn’t move. Not a twitch. Not a groan. Just the shallow, mechanical rise and fall of his chest under the mask. “Prep theatre room two—now!” a doctor barked, already pulling on a lead apron. “Call surgery. Get blood—O negative, two units stat. Possible internal hemorrhage. Page neuro and trauma.”

“God… is he going to die?” The doctor shook her head firmly. “Not if we act quickly. With Doctor Cassia’s help, we slowed the poison enough to keep him alive. But the toxin has already ravaged his blood. He no longer has enough red blood cells to carry oxygen. That’s why he looks pale. he’s fading.” Her voice softened, but her eyes burned with urgency. “He needs a transfusion. Fresh blood to replace what the poison destroyed. Without it, his organs will shut down within hours.”

In the Smith’s basement, Cynthia was looking at the ceiling. Her breathing is shallow and labored. She is drenched in her own blood which dried up at this point. Its been twenty four hours since Bryan hit her on her head, since then, no one came to check on her. She was dumped among the empty boxes like trash. She knows that she will not live long. She lost too much blood for her to survive. She couldn't even feel the throbbing in her head anymore. Its as if her body is slowly shutting down, preparing for her departure to the afterlife.

A place that could really result in him getting hurt. Another deep sigh escaped me as we all waited for the men that went to get ropes. Groans coming from Mark Lumber filled the air as well and it finally occurred to me that the man was very hurt. I managed a glance in his direction and the bloody sight that I saw did not assure that the life of the man will be sustained. He actually looked like he was about to die. His face was gradually losing colour. As the men beside him tended to his wound, his neck kept folding and his head showed signs of blueness. He looked almost dead.

"You're going to wake up in the hospital and you're going to tell her yourself. Do you hear me? You don't get to die. Not tonight. Not—" Sirens. Distant but growing closer. Red and blue lights flickering through the trees. "They're coming." Relief flooded through me. "Marcus, they're almost here. Just hold on a little longer. Please, just—" His hand went limp in mine. "No." I grabbed his face. "No, no, no—Marcus, wake up. Wake up!" His chest barely moved. The blood flow had slowed—but not because the wound was clotting. Because there wasn't enough blood left to pump.

Because if you didn’t stop the bleeding in time, our victims tended to die from the lack of blood. The other two goons currently passed out. Both equally bloody and hanging limply by their dislocated arms from the ceiling. Enjoying the show, I move to sit within my lush leather chair, watching as all hope fades from his eyes. Signaling Alex with my hand to stop, does he move so immediately, before walking back towards a large metal table that we kept near a wall, moving to wipe off all the blood from his face and hands. Rising to my feet, I ever slowly make my way over towards these three low life’s. The man on the verge of passing out do I move to tap his cheek a few times.

My fingers tightened on his shoulders, practically willing him to answer. “O-positive,” he rasped, just before a fresh wave of agony crashed through him, wrenching a scream from his throat. I whipped around to Jade, fear prickling down my spine. “What’s happening? Why is he—” “She pressed her lips into a grim line. “Damn it. I think the clot that was keeping the poison at bay just burst when I started flushing it out.” She barely paused, grabbing a scalpel from her kit. “We’ve got to drain the blood before it spreads, but I don’t have any O positive with me. He might not make it if—”