Woke Up With Broken Blood Vessel In Eye Novels & Stories

Seconds after that, my legs stopped working altogether. My right cheek and forehead smacked the track. An explosion of stars writhed before my eyes, and there was a loud pop. Nothing from the waist down worked, but damn my face stung. "Ouch." I pushed up on my hands, lifting my upper body off the ground and shaking my head. Red liquid spilled into my right eye and splashed onto the asphalt before diluting with the rain. For most of my life, I'd been trained to worry at the sight of my blood. Now wasn't any different.

And then, with a sudden burst of anger, I shattered the glass into pieces. The sound of breaking glass echoed throughout the room, and I watched as the shards fell to the ground in a cascade of glittering fragments. As I stared down at my hand, I saw that it was covered in a beautiful, dark hue of red. Blood was dripping down my fingers, and I could feel it seeping into the crevices between my knuckles.

I desired to see but my eyes couldn't comply with my wishes as what I saw was unexpectedly blurry. The strange effect suddenly phased off as I gazed at the reflection of myself in the mirror. I drove my right fingers through my hair and I watched this with my half opened eyes. When I was aware that I saw a thick goo flowing down from my nostrils and reaching for medial cleft, my eyes suddenly widened up. I was unaware of such situation and I had no idea of what this was. I touched it with my index finger and realised that it was blood.

Clean yourself up. Using the wall for support, he hauled himself unsteadily to his feet. His legs felt like water. He shuffled towards the guest powder room near the foyer, avoiding the broken glass. His reflection in the mirror above the sink was a horror show. His left eye was already swelling shut, the skin around it an angry, mottled red-purple. A deep split marred his cheekbone, oozing blood that trickled down towards his jaw. His lower lip was also split and swollen. He looked like what he was: a victim.

I have almost slept only for five minutes, this explains why my eyes are still burning. "Blake?" I called his name but no response. "Blake, where are you?" I peeled the bedsheet off me before placing my feet on the cold tiles but felt the piercing pain under my feet like a sharp needle entered into my skin in one shot that made me stumble back and I fell down with my butt. There I saw red liquid is running everywhere from my feet just ahead of the broken glass which was stained with my blood. Damn!! No wonder why I have piercing pain! But... Broken glass?

As he applied a tourniquet she passed out in shock. He searched for water to pour over a human child whose eyes had been caked shut by the dust and heat, only to discover that the eyeballs had ruptured, and what had glued the eyelashes shut was the child’s own flesh. His blood saved the child’s life but would not restore her sight.

“Go ahead.” He took pictures of my face from different angles. And then checked my face. He clicked a button and then started talking. “Patient has a broken cheek. Possible broken occipital bone, both eyes have broken blood vessels. Nose is broken, in what looks to be three spots.” He hissed as he checked my lip. “Split lip.” He pulled away. “Is there anything else?” I nodded. I nodded to my side. “I’d love to help, but I have a rib sticking through my side.”

I lift my hands to his face, my thumbs brushing along the hard edges of his jaw as I tilt his head to get a good look at him. My stomach twists. His left eye is swollen shut, the skin around it a deep, angry red that promises to turn purple by tomorrow. His nose doesn't look broken but a thin trail of fresh blood trickles from his nostril. His bottom lip is split, the raw skin glistening, and there's a slash across his cheekbone.

Then it aggressively flips the car upside down, producing a head-shaking thud. Both Davide and I gasp in pain. When I inch my eyes open, my vision is blurred and one of my eyes is stinged with something oozy and sticky. Weakly, I lift my hand to my brow near that eye. I jolt in pain when my fingertips prod my brow. Without the need to see what my fingertips felt while prodding my brow, I know then that the oozy, sticky, painful and rusty-smelling liquid is my blood.

Chapter 2 - You Deserve This LENA I ducked almost immediately, but I wasn’t fast enough. A heavy glass—maybe a mug—smashed into my forehead with a sickening crack. “Agh!” I screamed, stumbling back. My hand flew to my head, but blood was already pouring. The pain exploded as the blood was now dripping into my eyes. It hurt so bad. My vision blurred, a mix of tears and blood. My forehead throbbed like someone had hacked it with a blade.