Creepypasta Stories And More

The Bleeding Man

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

“Shit.” A blonde teen climbed down from a tree he was picking apples from. He had scratched himself on the bark and hadn’t noticed. He left the basket of apples he had collected next to the tree and rushed inside. His icy blue eyes snaked around the room searching for another life form. When he deemed it safe he calmly walked to the bathroom. 
Inside the medicine cabinet there were epipens designed especially for him. He injected himself with it and sat by the sink holding a towel to his dripping scrape. Now this boy was special, special in a way he would rather not be. He was a hemophiliac meaning that these minor cuts and scrapes he acquired could kill him. His body had an inability to create the white blood cells he needed fast enough to cause clotting. This restricted most of his outside activities. It even left him an orphan.

His parents were told of his condition after one doctor visit because he wouldn’t stop bleeding after his tooth fell out. The doctor told the parents they would need special medication to keep him alive. He needed injections for the episodes they called ‘bleeds’. Now his parents were not wealthy, even in raising their son they were on the fence of aborting him when he was merely in her womb. 

After the visit the parents had taken the child home, packed his things and sat him on the doorstep of a home. They told him they would come back when they could help him. He agreed as an innocent child would and he watched them go. They disappeared in the darkness of the street. 

That was nearly ten years ago. 

“Alex…?” an old frail voice called from the hall, the doorstep he was placed on belonged to the town’s organizer. She was short, old, very sweet and understanding. She raised Alex and even found enough money to buy his medication for his bleeds.

“Hi Nana, I um…” he tried to think of something creative to say, but the woozy feeling started coming to him. The old lady walked in with a very disapproving look on her face. 

“Alex I thought I told you, you need to be more careful you know about your condition.” She scolded dragging a chair over for him to sit in. He sat holding the bloody towel firmly to his arm. 

“I’m sorry Nana, I swear I didn’t even feel it. I was just getting you some apples for your pie from the tree.” He smiled sweetly trying to appeal to her better nature. In return she pinched his cheek.

“Oh you…” She smiled, “Doesn’t excuse your carelessness.” He groaned seeing his plan fail.
It had taken about twenty minutes but the bleeding finally stopped. He cleaned off his arm and his adoptive grandmother wrapped his wound tightly. She wanted to make sure it didn’t open up while he slept or something. The two then moved to the kitchen. She had made stew with a nice thick brown sauce with potatoes carrots and chunks of meat bobbing around the pot.

Smelling it made him salivate and seeing it made his stomach growl. He loved stew, it wasn’t the typical American favorite but he could at least say it was his. She made him a nice bowl and set it in front of him. The two sat and ate in silence. 

“How are you feeling?” She glanced at him.

“It was another episode I feel fine, I'm pretty use to it now.” He smiled blowing on a big chunk of potato.

“Honey…” She placed her hand on his, “That’s not what I mint…”

He stared at her and placed the spoon back down into the bowl. Just a couple weeks before he had gotten word his best friend had taken his own life after he had gotten back from the emergency hospital trip. He saw him last before wishing him a fun camping trip; he hated himself for turning him down. He should have gone with him, or at least that’s what he thought. Perhaps if he had gone when Rubin asked he could have saved him.