Bekas Luka Di Wajah Pria Novels & Stories

His personality was just like that. “You cried?” I squinted my eyes to recognize the man who was resting with his arms crossed to the bricked wall. He was looking at me but I can’t recognize who he was because of the pure lighting he was in, all I could see was his dark silhouette. “Ah, yes, why did I ask the obvious? I heard you crying earlier and your cheeks were too puffy and red.” The man put his hand down and started walking in front of me, I recognized it was Lukas without his cloak, he wore biker pants and a black jacket that complements well with his emo look.

"My name's Richard, what's your name?", Richard asked politely. He looked into his eyes, it was a reflection of his emotions, the pain, the agony, everything. "My name's Luke", Luke replied as he shook his hands with Richard. Richard could see the pain in his eyes, obviously his cheeks were burning, his jaw and his head was aching and his body hurt him badly, but he tried keeping a smiley face "Come on! Let's go get some treatment for your face", Richard said.

There was nothing to be gained from that skirmish. "About six minutes, Master Lukas." Zeke replied to his former student. "Excellent!" Lukas said and sat down in a lotus position. He was a strange image to look at. His legs were short and unnatural whereas his bulging back was bowed as a drawn bow. He seemed like a person carrying a mountain because his protruding back rose over his head. That was not counting the weird shape of his face. He was akin to an unfinished painting left by its maker, raw and purely offensive to the eyes. Lukas was indeed not a pleasant sight to see.

His heart, which wasn’t supposed to feel anything became restless. Meanwhile, Amethyst held her breath when she saw his pale mien. His face was mutilated badly, leaving him with a crooked nose, battered lips, sunken cheek as if someone scooped out the flesh and none-exist eyebrows. One of his eyes was blind as there was only a grey iris there. A scar, a remnant of a deep wound, ran from the left side of his temple to the lower right side of his jaw. Suddenly, Luveas heard her sniffling. He lifted his face and was alarmed to see her crying. “What is it?” he asked in alarm. He was worried that she regretted looking at his ugly face.

His photos all pasted on the internet and I couldn't be much glad that every caption talked about how great of a man he was. He was beautiful. He was fair, almost pale white. His eyes were dark brown and his jawline and stubble trimmed beard gave his face warmth. He had a smile on in one of the photos. His smile looked genuine, wrinkling his skin and warming his face. Luca and I thought we’d need to find him, but no. He's dead. I would have loved to meet him, to call him Dad, but now he's no more, and I would have to accept that.

She had squeezed her eyes shut, and now was peeking at what she had done. Standing on his knees before her, the leather jacket-clad speaker looked at her with recognition and shock. He had pretty light green eyes, open wide with shock. A thin red line ran from the corner of his mouth across his lips diagonally up the left corner of his nose, ending just under the edge of his right eye. It was imperfect, where his face dipped at the nose was unscathed, but the damage was an unmistakable single line. He let out an unattractive shriek in pain as blood started to paint down half of his face. His scream had surprised her and she took one staggering step back.

She cries, sobs wracking through her body. I glance over at Beckett. He's been pierced by something. A bunch of torn, bloodied pieces of cloth surround him, showing that the woman, this Ursula, removed his makeshift tourniquet to better look at his wounds. His wound is still wide open; his body's natural ability to heal itself has done nothing to mend the wound back together. "Please help him." Ursula cries, grabbing at Luka. "I can't," Luka replies, looking over Beckett's wounds as his eyes filled with despair. "I'm not that kind of God."

His body shivered from the cold and Williams grabbed his jacket from the duffle bag, taking his cell phone out of the pocket, and draped it over Luca’s torso. He took the time to get a good look at his soulmate. He was exactly as Jedidiah had describe him with his doe like eyes and bunny nose. There was a gash on his forehead as blood trickled down the side of his face. He looked a little too thin in his eyes and as he looked him over he could see dark spots under his white shirt. Williams scrunched his brows together. “I’m sorry,” Luca cried, causing Williams to tear his eyes away from his chest.

He and two of the others carry large rifles in their arms. The one in the middle has both his arms free of anything. He looks a lot like Lazarus which confuses me. His skin and hair color is more or less the same shades as Lazarus and the eyes are similar as well. The difference is the fact that this male looks disheveled. His hair is long and shaggy. The beard is wild and unkempt. He has a large scar on his face that looks pretty recent with its bright purple shade.

The only thing that saves us is that his wife and her other husbands care for us enough to call us their little brothers. His phone dings and he glances down at it. The scar on the right side of his face is more noticeable as he is looking down since it runs through his eyelid. He is lucky to even see out of that eye. The scar starts at his hairline and runs down through his eye to his chin. It does make him appear more rugged and less epicene. He is a gorgeous man with white hair, full bow-shaped lips, a boyish face, and a cut physique. His personality, however, is artic and frightening.