All Around Me Are Worn Out Faces Novels & Stories

"He can only lock you up for days without food or water, if you are strong enough to make it out in one piece then.. Her sentence suddenly hooked up in her throat as they all felt a cold aura wash over them. They needed no one to tell them that he has walked in. None of them dared to look up as the sound of his shoes filled the whole room. "On your feet," came his cold voice. They all rushed up to their feet in a flash, Kim seized the opportunity to take a closer look at his face. He was still the same guy that she danced for at Mrs Peterson's strip club, pretty face that could beat that of a lady's hands down, his mouth watering height and broad muscles and all, it was still him standing ri

I had to go to work and face whatever was waiting for me there. When I walked into the Roma Aesthetics building, the difference was immediate. The usual buzz of energy was gone, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence. Everyone moved slowly, their faces drawn, their eyes avoiding each other’s. No one said "Good morning," and the usual smiles that welcomed me every day were nowhere to be found. It felt like we were all in mourning, and in a way, we were—mourning the failure that had hit us so hard.

Casper and his family stand stoic, their heads tipped slightly as if to punctuate the fact that they wanted to be here all along, and it didn’t take the death of a young man to persuade them to stand with their friends. Once we are tucked out of the way a bit, I take a look around. I’ve lived here my entire life and don’t recognize a single face, other than those I’ve already named. Most of these people look like they just swam across the ocean and walked from Savannah or some other port city. They’re dirty. Thin. Their clothes are worn and wrinkled. A few of them cough into their sleeves or sneeze. Ma wraps her arms around Alice and Robert and pulls them closer as if that will keep them fro

I looked at everyone’s face around the table and saw the pursed lips, the frowning foreheads, and the clamped jaws. The strain was palpable.

What stood out the most were the faces of the pack members. The faces of the pack members were sober, their eyes clouded with a mix of sadness and fear. They looked as though they were expecting to get attacked and their loved ones killed again, which would happen if we didn't get things in order soon. I could sense the weight of the battle still lingering in the air, the trauma and loss still fresh in their minds. As I walked, I noticed that the pack members were all keeping a safe distance from me, their eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

We followed behind his car, dragged through the streets of our own land like prisoners. --- Back at the pack’s territory, the changes hit me like a punch to the gut. My people looked thinner, their faces hollow, malnourished. But worse than that was the emptiness in their eyes—the sadness, the fear. It broke me. It enraged me. They all recognized me. Their eyes flickered with hope as they caught sight of me. Others stared with disdain and disappointment in their faces. And some…some couldn’t even muster the energy to care anymore.

I washed my face and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. I was a mess. My face was wet, the water failing to hide the dark spot curling the bottom of my eyes. You can thank the nights spent crying in my room all alone for that. Even my lips were starting to get peeled. I had been through all types of stress and it was taking a toll on me. Strands of my hair were everywhere but tucked in. even a strap of my spaghetti strap night dress had fallen off my shoulder. If I told anyone I had been run over by a truck, I would have been believed without a doubt. I had changed, a bad change.

Allegra ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ He placed a hand on the small of my back as we walked inside and the moment we entered, his laidback expression turned into a hard, vicious one. The way he glared at every other Outfit member made me uneasy, I don't know if this “peace” will last. I looked up at his face and he glanced at me, "What's wrong?" I asked. "I fucking hate their faces," he answered lowly.

All that remained was our congregation screeching, writhing, rocked with spasms of pain I can only fathom. They had done as Johnny had bade them. They’d taken off their masks. One by one they had torn into their flesh and pulled off their faces like old, tattered wallpaper. Glistening red faces peered back at each other in wide-eyed panic, each face a look of shock and surprise, their lipless mouths frozen forever in toothy smiles. I staggered toward Johnny’s place on the stage. He was leaning against the microphone stand, his shoulders rising and falling with deep, labored breaths. I don’t know if he was still caught in the trance of the music. He was still wearing his shades.

Every single one with a mark proudly displayed on their neck. The faces of the men and women staring at me are sunken, hollow, and malnourished. Many with large circles under their eyes and their hair thinning. The rogues trapped inside looked at me with unabashed curiosity. However, those from this pack gaze upon me with confusion, shock, and then utter glee as they realize who I am.