Writing Injuries Novels & Stories

The officer thanks me for my statement, then asks the doctor what the injuries are, she relays her diagnosis. “A lot of bruising mostly, possibly a fractured wrist and a chance of a cracked rib or two, but no major damage, and no sign of a concussion.” Then she turns to me, “With some rest and arnica cream for the bruising you should be just fine my dear.” I smile grateful that I escaped worse damage and Drake breathes a sigh of relief too. Max returns and they take their leave, and now I really cannot stay awake I slump back on the sofa exhausted.

He told her. “Oh?” She asked him, surprised. “Yeah…. I …. I hope I’m not overstepping here… but I think that you writing it all down, will help you.” He said. She frowned a little. “You need to get it all out Emily. You need to let it all go. It’s still hanging on to you for dear life. It’s affecting your injuries and your healing. Write it all down… then let it go. Don’t look back.” Emily now had tears in her eyes as she listened to him. She smiled at him and took his hand, and nodded.

"When a wolf is injured, it's either muscle injury, or a fractured injury. Our wolves react slightly to a muscle injury and hence why healing is slow. When it is a fractured injury though, the speeding process all over the body increases about ten folds" he explained. Emily had stopped screaming and was finally quieting down. The doctor walked away and went back to the sink where he was now washing off his bloody fingers. Then he finally turned back to us "It's the solution when there is a near death injury. It's a reassuring solution for this kind of thing. But that does not mean that everyone can do it. It's a science and should be studied" the doctor explained.

Afraid she wouldn't be able to stop herself from crying, she couldn't bring herself to speak to him first. He glanced at her teary eyes and asked softly, "Why are you crying?" She shook her head. Her heart was in pain over the sight of the bloody knife wounds all over his body. The doctor bandaged his wounds and turned to Suzanne. He then advised while cleaning up, "Mrs. Morrison, Mr. Morrison's injuries might not be life-threatening, but they're still quite serious. I've given him stitches and bandaged all his wounds. "They'll require redressing every day and shouldn't come in contact with water. He should refrain from strenuous activities and get ample rest. I've prescribed some anti-infl

I wonder if that sort of thing shows up on a brain scan. I’m treated for a concussion and a sprained wrist. I want to scream at the doctors that my wrist wasn’t from the car accident, but I know better. I bite my tongue. Emmett is treated for whiplash which brings me a sick joy. It’s about time he got hurt for once. Once we’re all bandaged up and our hands are stuffed full of printed papers for aftercare instructions, we’re left alone while the doctor draws up our discharge papers. “You fucking bitch,” he grumbles the first chance he gets, with no one around to hear.

“No broken facial bones but you have a lot of bruising. Are you able to tell me what happened? I understand that you are in a lot of pain right now so just give me a few key words and I will fill in the blanks.” “Engage, off. Hit, no wash up.” “Your now ex fiance hit you because you didn't wash up?” I nodded and looked to the floor. “Is there more? Would you prefer to write it down?” I nodded to both questions. “Maddie, can you grab a notepad and a pen from the desk in the hallway please,” doc instructed. She was back within seconds and handed me the book and pen before going to stand back in the corner until she was needed again. I started to write somethings on the book before handing it t

Every muscle in my body screamed in agony as I crawled toward a nearby tree and leaned onto its base for support. My entire body felt numb like I had fallen off a cliff and landed on a concrete floor. A crescent-shaped wound with spots of blood marred the inside of my elbow where that man had bitten me. My head throbbed with a painful ache that made my vision difficult, blurring momentarily like a light switch as blood from the side of my head trickled down my cheeks. I knew how bad head injuries can be. I prayed I hadn’t sustained a severe one that would lead to any future complications.

he said quietly. Scarlet’s breath hitched as she stared at him. Up close, the injuries were still there. Bruises marred his skin. Knife wounds were ugly and deep, some still bleeding faintly. Her fingers hovered, then gently pressed against one of the gashes. “You’re hurt,” she whispered. He snorted. “Yeah. That part’s real.” Her head snapped up. “Real?” “I injured myself,” he said casually, like he was talking about a paper cut. “Didn’t heal them. Left them ugly and believable.”

“You were severely injured when you arrived here two days ago, you had multiple scrapes and bruises as well as a fair number of broken bones. Two ribs on your left side were cracked, luckily, they should heal quickly. Your left wrist was fractured and will be in a cast for the next six to eight weeks.” “You have several bumps and gashes on your head, our main concern is the particularly big one sitting at the back of your cranium, but that should be nothing to worry about if your brain decides to play nice and not bleed.” If her brain decides to play nice? Where had this guy gone to medical school?

She whispered it mostly to herself as she crossed out a few notes in her notebook. Knee ligament microtrauma, hand fracture (right hand, same spot twice), rib contusion, eye injury, neck strain. A body that's not treated—only used, again and again. Like a weapon returned to its sheath without ever being cleaned. At the end, a photo. Not a professional shot. Someone had taken it from a gym corner; the background was blurred. The man was shirtless, sweaty, bruised all over. But his gaze... his gaze was razor sharp. Ice-blue eyes. And those eyes weren't looking at the camera. Not at the photographer. But through them—like he saw the person who would one day look at that image.