A Mask Of My Own Face Novels & Stories

I could feel her stirring inside me, waking up after a long sleep, blinking in the light. I took off my mask and it qas not because I was ready to show my face to the world. I was not. The scars were still there, still ugly, still something I was not ready to share. But in this empty apartment, with the sun coming through the window and the sounds of the city drifting up from the street, I wanted to feel my own skin for the first time in years. I held the mask in my hands and looked at it. White porcelain. Little painted flowers. It had been my armor, my shield, my way of surviving in a world that did not want to see what was underneath.

I didn’t have time to think about that. My eyes scanned the room immediately, looking for anything at all that could help. That was when I saw a mask on the chair near the bed. Probably something he used for… whatever reckless activities he got himself into. I grabbed it instantly. “This will do.” My fingers moved quickly as I pulled it over my face, adjusting it until it sat properly. It wasn’t perfect but it was something. Better than my face being recognized and Marlo seeing me again after all these years. I wasn’t willing to take that risk,not even for a second.

But I couldn't show my true side to Mattew. Without thinking, I reached for the mask. It felt cold in my hand, but inside it was a power that could exceed my own control. I stared at it for a moment before slowly pressing it to my face. As soon as the mask merged with my skin, the heat turned into blazing embers. The power penetrated, replacing my anger with something wilder, more brutal.

Rooted to the spot. My back still turned to her. Shit. I don’t have my mask.

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, “yet you couldn’t see through your step-mother’s facade for sixteen years until your eyes were opened when you heard her talk to Fin in this academy.” “Because some people don’t wear masks, they solder it with their soul. A mask so thick, it becomes their skin.” I leaned forward, my hands on the table as I lowered my voice to hold the gravity. “And such people… cannot be unmasked without tearing off their skin, behind which they are nothing but a mess of blood, muscles and bones.” My past replayed in my mind when I said those words. I blinked back my tears and took another sip of my tea.

Then I saw it. A few meters away, on the dirty floor, lay a mask. It wasn’t a cloth mask. It was a good one. Made of silicone, made to look like skin. I got up, my legs feeling weak, and walked over to it. I bent down and picked it up. I turned it over. And my own face stared back at me. It was my face. My eyes, my nose, my mouth. Perfectly made. A mask of me. Someone had been wearing this. Someone had been walking around, looking like me.

SUNESIS'S POV The silver mask was cold against my skin. It felt completely different from the hot, stuffy air of the dressing room. I stood in front of the broken mirror, my hands shaking as I fixed my long black silk dress. I made sure the fabric covered my shoulders and arms perfectly. I had to hide everything from my neck down. Underneath the smooth cloth were the deep, ugly burn scars that ruined my body, the painful marks from the fire that took my family away.

After all my pleas for forgiveness,? And oh! Did I tell you that I covered my face? I mean, who would come on a murdering mission without a mask? The moment I climbed the stairs, I wore the mask so the secret CCTV wouldn’t capture my face. Hence, the mask feels like a second skin, hiding my true identity but not my seething emotions. Closing my eyes and tracing the direction of the moans, I reach the right door and place my ear on it, my heart hammering in my chest.

Who would want to befriend a man as ugly as I? I'm lucky I have such pretty friends, because of my mask. Then his eyes fell on the mask on his bed, making him walk to it and pick it up. That's right. My mask. It is my only salvation. No one has to know what I truly am behind this mask, all they need to see is what I show them, a facade. Is it wrong of me? I don't think so. No one will accept me for who I truly am, so I have to become something else, something they won't question.

Marcus asked, holding out a tray. Tonight’s mask was different. It wasn't the clinical filigree I wore in the office. This one was crafted from white gold and encrusted with tiny, raw diamonds that shimmered like frozen tears. It covered the upper half of my face, leaving my lips—painted a defiant, lethal crimson—exposed. "Tonight, we don't hide, Marcus," I whispered, watching my reflection. "Tonight, we remind them that the shadows always return to claim what is theirs."