Writing Injuries Novels & Stories

Now he will think I'm dumb. Before I could panic even more he answered my question just as friendly as he had asked me questions. "Severe injuries include internal damage, fractures in bones, or anything that has damaged your senses. So your hearing or your sight for example." He explained without giving any hint that my question could be seen as stupid. "No, I haven't had any severe injuries," I answered. "Oke, I also see you have no chronic illnesses and you don't take any medication on a regular basis, right?" He asked again. I nodded my head.

Dean’s heart began to race; he felt as though he was getting closer to the truth. He opened the earliest physical report from Chen's 18th year, and the content of the report shocked him. It detailed Chen’s injuries: multiple stab and slash wounds, with the most severe being a stab to the back that fractured his ribs. There was extensive blood loss and multiple instances of shock during emergency surgery. After several hours of intense resuscitation, he had narrowly been pulled back from the brink of death. Each line of text felt like a knife, slicing through Dean’s heart.

l had gone to school and left her home as she was sick only to come back as l had forgot my homework and saw our mother and stepfather beating her while she was unconscious it's been five hours and she has not woken up yet. l can tell she is in pain because some of her ribs looks badly bruised and broken which is making it hard for her to breathe.Her right wrist is broken and her left wrist is sprained.Her left leg is bruised up to the calf and her ankle is sprained as for her right leg is badly bruised and swollen not to forget she has a concussion with how badly her head was bleeding.

the Doctor asked, referring to Vincent's injuries. "About a few hours ago," Vincent answered. The Doctor's brow furrowed, and he turned on a spotlight to treat the wound. "Usually, wounds with tissue like this have occurred for several days. Yet, it is almost infected," said the Doctor, making Vincent widen his eyes. What happened to him? Why do new injuries get worse? "What caused this?" asked the Doctor again. Vincent choked. If he spoke, wouldn't that blow his cover? But how would the Doctor know what he was exposed to if he didn't say anything?

I hated this injury. In the past few days its succeeded in making my life miserable. Even more miserable than Noah and that was saying something. I'd been bedridden for days and was constantly slipping in and out of consciousness. Some days I'd wake up with a throbbing head, other days, I'd wake up with a swollen leg. It was always one thing or the other and honestly I was getting tired of it. If a wolf scratch was like this, what it would be like if they had bitten me instead?

Or maybe she's going to tell me exactly what I want to hear. "Congratulations, Whitney! You're pregnant." The world tilts as I pass out against the examination table. Renegade Betty is pushing papers at myself and Trevor. "I need you to sign this so we can send it to the worker's comp company since this was a work injury," she's telling Trevor who looks at her like she's grown another head. "With what hand? Fucker got my dominant one," he gestures at the thick padding and ace bandage that now covers the ten stitches in his skin.

"These marks have silver residue. It will scar if not treated properly." He applied some healing salve to the wounds from a first aid kit in his office. The cooling sensation brought immediate relief to the burning pain. "Veronica will pay for this," he stated, anger evident in his voice. "Pack law is clear on such assaults." "I want a formal injury assessment," I said, surprising myself with my boldness. "Documented under pack protocol." James looked at me with newfound interest. "You want to use pack law against her." "It's the only advantage I have," I replied simply.

he ws berating “I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to let off some steam.” I gritted out. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? Huh? And they spiked your drink, like, are you that naive?” “I’m not naive, don’t fucking call me that,” I snapped back at him, not caring anymore if my head throbbed. He let out a breath of relief, pulling me into a hug so fast I didn’t have time to react. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he muttered, pulling away.

"No, listen, you twit. There was a guy, a really sweet boy; he helped me home." "A nice boy? In London? Now I know it's a head injury." I snorted and she grinned at me. "Calm down, babes, just teasing." "Stop, I don't have the energy tonight, Bron. Really, really don't." "OK, OK. So, tell me the damage." "Bruises everywhere on my back, head, wrist. Hip too I think. Bum. Cut on my thigh. Think I have torn skin on my shoulder blades. There was a satisfying amount of blood, anyway."

I said. Jett hands me the folder and I start reviewing the reports. I growl low. “It’s not often that I hear my little intimidator growl while reading. What do you see?” Jaxon asked. “There are old injuries noted in these records.” I said and I turned to Ivana. “My dear girl, how often were you injured?” Ivana looks at me, “Often. I couldn’t tell you a time frame. It varied.” “What did your parents do when they saw these injuries?”