All Around Me Are Worn Out Faces Mga Nobela at Kwento

They looked emaciated and their oily faces were disgusting. As for Cathy, her eyes were so swollen that she could not even close them.

"I can't go out there, Hanna," I rasped, the sound tearing through my throat like jagged glass. My limbs felt heavy, anchored to the mattress by an exhaustion that transcended physical injury. "They look at me like I’m a disease. I can’t face them again."

Though they might feel the link probably. I decided to keep my gaze on my feets, when I couldn't stand looking at the cold faces of everyone around. Not even a single person was smiling, they must all hate me now. I didn't even want to think if some of the people I think have families, and probably kids. They must really hate me. He stretched out his palm with a plain look, a small knife in his right hand. I placed my right palm into his, heaving out a deep sigh.

I needed a clear mind. I needed to remember every face. Every word. Every insult. Every humiliation. Because one day I would return all of it. With interest. "Jenny!" A cheerful female voice called out. I turned. A group of women were approaching. All dressed in designer gowns. All smiling. The kind of smiles that never reached their eyes. Vanessa's friends. Wonderful. "How are you?" one of them asked. "I'm fine." "You look thinner." Another one laughed. "Of course she's thinner. Stress does that to people."

Our gaze bore deep into each other, understanding the fact that we were by ourselves. "Did he just leave us?" Jay asked. It felt surreal. I had to look around just to be sure we weren't just imagining stuff. "Seems so!" It felt so awkward standing in an unknown place with weird beings passing by. The people seemed normal but with rough scars on their faces. Like they had undergone so much abuse that disfigured their faces. "Jay, what's this?" I ask, squeezing his hand tightly. "I don't know!" He gasps, holding on to me tightly like If he let me go, I did disappear or go missing.

I want to sleep without listening for footsteps. Is that too much? The wind blows softly through the windows of the compound. It carries the sound of music from a bar somewhere. Laughter follows it. Stone City celebrates while I hide. I finish one loaf slowly. Wrap the second one carefully. That one must last until tomorrow. I stand up. Brush dust off my jeans though it makes no difference. My reflection in a cracked piece of glass nearby startles me. My face looks older than twenty-two. My cheeks are slightly hollow. A small scar runs near my eyebrow from a fight I didn't start but couldn't avoid. My eyes… they look tired. Not the kind of sleep that can be fixed. The kind that comes from fi

I pulled up to the parking lot and some minutes later, I was already in the hallway. As I entered the room, I was met with a mixture of somber expressions, their faces a testament to the weight of their concerns. My wave, though well-intentioned, felt like a fragile bandage attempting to cover a deep wound. The look they had on their faces whenever they came here was different, a sense of trepidation hanging in the air like a challenge.

My eyelids fluttered open, and as the haze retreated, I found myself gazing up at faces I had longed to see for an eternity. The world came into focus slowly, a mosaic of faces imprinted with the weight of lifetimes both lived and lost. My heart thudded to its own uncertain rhythm, unsure whether to stand in defiant protest or simply lay bare to whatever fate awaited me. The faces around me were like stars against a night sky, each one a point leading me back from the void. "How?" It was barely a whisper, a fractured sound that escaped before I could rein it back.

Mallory endured, but Oddny’s heart and mind can’t bear it. She looked at the younger one’s face. Unlike her usual bubbly personality, her face was shrouded by gloom. Her face was pale like paper, and her lips were chapped as if they were deprived of water. Under her eyes were black bags, too heavy that one might think she hadn’t had her sleep for a very long time.