Wounds Novels & Stories

I sat at the sofa, my coronary heart pounding in my chest. Jake paced the residing room like a caged animal, his brow furrowed with anxiety. I may want to feel the load of silence placing between us, thick and uncomfortable. “Sarah,” he started out, strolling a hand thru his hair, “I’m simply sorry approximately earlier. I didn’t mean to harm you.” I crossed my arms, trying to protect myself from the pain I felt. “You didn’t mean to hurt me? It felt like you probably did precisely that, Jake. You allow me see that image, and it made the entirety worse.”

As the wolves released their vice-like grip, I found myself unceremoniously sprawled upon the unforgiving ground. My entire being throbbed with unrelenting pain, limbs aflame with searing torment, and my head pulsating in an agonizing rhythm. Blood and sweat had congealed on my skin, forming a repulsive, viscous layer, while the dirt, with cruel intent, invaded the open wounds that now marred my battered frame. The insidious threat of infection loomed ominously over me, a spectral harbinger of doom that would persist long after the immediate ordeal was over.

Wills Watson followed the doctor to the doctor's office. The doctor said, "third master , there are two wounds on the child’s arm. One is two centimeters long and does not bleed much. The other is five or six centimeters long and the wound is one centimeter deep. This is the main cause of bleeding. The wound has been cleaned and sutured. These days, let the child rest well and get more nutrition." Wills Watson replied in a low voice, "I see." "Let your child stay in the hospital for a few days and observe it. If you

“Next.” A chest wound. He’s got a collapsed lung. I place my palms against his ribs. Warmth washes over. The lung reinflates, and he coughs, breathing again. “Next.” A head wound. Blood is pooling in his eyes. I touch his forehead, warmth surging through. The skin closes up, and he blinks. “Next.” They keep pouring in. I just heal. And heal. And heal. Warriors rush in, wounded. I touch them, and they leave whole.

The third wolf broke and ran the moment the other two went down, vanishing back into the twisted trees before anyone could pursue, and the ambush ended as fast as it had begun — brutal, brief, and considerably more informative than anyone wanted it to be. "Let me see it." Kade was at her shoulder before the adrenaline had even fully cleared, hands careful despite the urgency, pulling her torn leather aside to check the damage. The wound was ugly but shallow, already beginning to knit at the edges the way pack healing generally allowed for injuries that weren't immediately life-threatening. "You're going to be fine. It's not deep." "I know it's not deep." Wren's voice came out steadier than h

The other two from his group lower their eyes in a kind of attention Maya does not understand. Something passes between them. Maya feels it instinctively, like pressure changing before a storm. “Move your hand,” Eli says quietly. Torres does. Maya sees the wound clearly. Deep. Torn. Ugly. The white of rib bones showing. It should need packing, pressure, stitches, antibiotics, and luck. It should leave Torres weak. It should be a problem they carry back to Denise at speed while calculating blood loss and infection risk and all the little ways a body can become a liability without meaning to.

He was healing, but healing from the type of damage he'd sustained would take years rather than hours. The wounds Griffin was treating told their own story of the running battle they'd survived. Knife cuts from close-quarters combat, bullet grazes from exchanges of gunfire, bruises and abrasions from moving through hostile territory under extreme conditions. Each mark was evidence of their transformation from victims to active combatants in a conflict they were only beginning to understand.

I feel really bad seeing his deep wounds. “I hope this will work.” I said as I open the bottle and I drop a small drop towards Bulk’s wound and a few seconds past the liquid slide inside the wound and a light appears as I watch the wound slowly disappears with the bloods. All of his bruises are also gone as he just lay down there still tired. “We are now done so we can rest and watch them.” Bulk said as I sit beside him and we watch how the others fight.

Micheal came back with the kit and I took it from his hand, my own hands quickly getting into motion and nimbly working on opening his shirt and throwing it away. The wound on his left arm was raw, it did not heal at all just like his other wounds that were much smaller compared to this one. I grabbed the disinfectant, soaked the cotton swab in the liquid, and began gently disinfecting his wounds starting from the most evident one--On his arm. A small winch slipped past his lips and I blew on the wound to soothe the burning sensation he might have felt and bring him comfort.

he smiled. I sighed and threw my head down. "Please" I whispered in defeat. "Leave" I said I closed my eyes when I heard the door open and close again. I fell onto my bed and allowed my tears to fall out. *** The doctor came into to check my wounds and said that my wound will heal soon, but what about the wounds in my heart?...who will heal them?. My family was crying when they saw me in the hospital bed again. I was now ready to go home. I could walk a bit as luckily the cut wasn't that deep. I just limp a little but I could walk thank god.