Novel & Cerita All Around Me Are Worn Out Faces

I started walking. The city swallowed me whole. I walked without direction, a ghost adrift in the river of humanity. Each face that passed was a story I would never know—a woman laughing into her phone, a man with a briefcase scowling at his watch, a pair of teenagers sharing a pair of earbuds, their heads bent together. They were all moving with purpose, propelled by their own private gravities, while I drifted, a speck of dust in a sunbeam, my orbit shattered. The pavement was a blur of cracked concrete and discarded gum wrappers beneath my feet. My mind was a blank slate, the echoes of that final click of the door still reverberating in my skull.

"I can't walk away. I thought I could, but I can't." Rachel looked so sad as she considered my face. I wondered how I looked to her. I knew when I saw myself in the mirror I saw a man who was haunted by too many demons. Sleep came to me rarely. Deep circles ringed my eyes to emphasize the exhaustion which kept me constant company. Stress lines aged my face around my tired eyes and grim mouth. Even my skin seemed an unhealthy sallow shade rather than its usual tan. "You never had a problem keeping your distance before. What's changed?"

Thirteen years of excluding a people from what was going on within the realms, yet we were heading into that land out of curiosity. As the town finally came into view, Clara slowed down the car. I frowned at the windshield, unhappy with what I was seeing. It was as if I went back in time to the old Juman pack, except with cracked roads, houses leaning tiredly into themselves. The people moved slowly, faces hard, eyes intent on their businesses. There was no life at all here. No joy, but exhaustion and frustration. The bad atmosphere was thick enough to crack glass. “Dear goddess of hope,” I muttered.

I must have looked a sight — haggard and worn, dark circles etched beneath my eyes, the weariness of sleepless nights etched upon my face. Despite my appearance, I squared my shoulders and met the owner's gaze head-on, refusing to let my weariness betray the fragile facade of strength I clung to. All I wanted was to escape into the sanctuary of sleep, to surrender to its soothing embrace and forget, even for a fleeting moment, the chaos that had consumed my life.

Every step, every inquiry, every glance has ended in frustration. As the night wears on, exhaustion claws at my eyelids, but I push on, driven by desperation. Still, the streets remain silent; the faces I pass are unrecognisable. The cold seeps into my bones, and I feel hollow, drained of hope. Finding nothing has left me feeling lost, like a part of me is missing. I trudge on, fueled by the faintest glimmer of possibility, but it's fading fast. Morning came slowly, my men tiredly walked towards me, “Boss,” they called.

Eager for love, attention, affection. I looked around the place. There weren’t all the conveniences of modern technology that made everyday life easier. The playground was muddy, there were pebbles all over the place, and the place simply looked deserted. Children ran around with their dirty faces and worn out clothes and yet they were laughing.

Maybe part of me was too afraid to know the truth. Then I remembered the mirror—the moment he made me face my reflection. I couldn’t even recognize the woman staring back. My face… my beauty… gone. The once flawless skin now looked pale and dull, faint wrinkles around my eyes, dark circles that hollowed my features. I looked older, worn out. This wasn’t the face of a twenty-three-year-old woman. It wasn’t me. And even now, I couldn't bring myself to look at a mirror again, afraid of what I'll see.

I didn't say anything because I didn't need them, Grandfather always gave me money for daily expenses, and look what happened. My hopes vanish when I see the huge mark the blow left on my face. His fingerprints are also visible on my cheeks. I have no friends to turn to. My head hurts terribly; when I touch the back, I feel several tender bumps. I break down crying uncontrollably, feeling like the most miserable woman in the universe.

I got up from the bay window seat to go to the washroom to wash my face. As I saw my face, I cringed internally. I had sore red eyes due to all the crying. My face looks dull. All the light that I had has been gone. I could not even recognise myself anymore. It is like someone had replaced me. Before, no matter how sad I was, there always was a light, a spark in my eyes, as I always had hoped. But now having all hope gone, there was not light or spark there in my eyes.

They appeared worn-out and weathered, like individuals who had endured much hardship. They approached him cautiously, their faces filled with fear as if they were in awe of him. The leader, the one who had spoken, was an elderly and weathered man. This old man had a hunched figure and wore tattered clothes, resembling a common beggar. The people around him shared the same shabby appearance. However, Adrian knew they were not beggars because the aura they exuded was much stronger. Nevertheless, their dignified aura was overshadowed by their disheveled appearance, making most people dismiss them as such at first glance.