Novel & Cerita Carl Loses His Eye

He started seeing ghosts, hallucinating me busy in the kitchen, only to stumble in and find nothing but dust on the stove. Every rainy night, he’d drive to the exact intersection where I’d lost the baby and sit there in the dark until dawn. He lost the taste for life; alcohol and nicotine were his only companions in the abyss. While he sank, I was standing at the peak of the international medical world, bathed in sunlight.

I gave up my eyesight for a fiancé like him. Chester became blind in an accident. His eyes were permanently damaged, so he had to replace his corneas with new ones to be able to see again. Without his eyes, the Caldwell family deemed him useless, and he no longer had the right to inherit their extensive business. Neglected, he was left alone in the hospital. Yvette, who was his girlfriend then, silently left him too. I'd had a crush on him for many years. At first, I was only looking after him. Suddenly, one night, he confessed his love to me.

“Invite him into your life. Drink her dry.” Just as Gage opened his eyes, his eyes were no longer the blue color they were, they were black. He lost what he was, and he bit down on her neck. She screamed out in pain, she tried clawing at him but grew instantly weak as the life drained from her. She died slowly and when he finished her body turned to ash.

“I struck his eyes with the spear first, because he looked at my baby with those evil filled eyes. And no one hurts what’s mine and goes Scot free.” “So, you don’t worry about his death. I took care of it already.”

But in the end, he still wrapped an arm around the drunken Angela and helped her into the car. Amid the rain, the black Maybach slowly disappeared from my line of sight. After it drove off, a familiar voice rang out beside me. "Was it worth it, doing all that for him?" I smiled and said, "There's no such thing as worth it or not. Life is long. If something's bad for you, you just throw it away." "I heard you've got a brand-new original design draft in the making." I turned and met those bright, sparkling eyes. I teased, "Did you plant some kind of surveillance device on me, Mr. Rivers?"

Carl's head was buzzing. He could not believe that his Seven-Tailed Centipede had failed. Andrew raised his foot and slammed it into Carl's chest. With a splatter, a large gush of blood burst from Carl's mouth as he flew back a few yards, crashing hard into a flower bed. This impact finally knocked some sense into him. As he struggled to get up from the ground, his eyes bulged with rage. "Andrew, this isn't over. Just you wait…" Carl let out a miserable scream through his blood-filled mouth.

It was the one I had embroidered for him when I was obsessed with embroidery as a teenager. Eyeing Carl coolly, I declared, "It's over between us, Carl." I smacked his hand, knocking the handkerchief out of his grasp. It fell onto the candle on the table. Instantly, the flames devoured it. Carl fearlessly reached out to grab the handkerchief, but most of it had been reduced to ashes already. With a dazed expression, he looked at me and asked, "You won't even let me keep something to remember you by?"

Howell explained. "Find a solution!" Carl yelled in frustration. "You must find a way to cure her!" Carl slammed his phone against the wall, feeling helpless. The brutal death of Lucy, whom he had cherished since childhood, and the serious condition of his daughter had him questioning if he was fated to lose everyone he loved. Who would be the next to leave him? Would it be Violet? Carl's eyes grew even dimmer. He had never believed in fate, but losing two loved ones in such a short time made him question his beliefs.

Pale as the moon, it continued to leak like a squashed bug; it smelled even worse. Carl stumbled forward, extending a shaking hand to touch a prison he’d only expected to escape in death. Lines and scars he’d known for a lifetime rested on its surface. Even the hairs remained. Between gray temples, the remains of Carl’s old face gaped at him broken-jawed—an eyeless, toothless mask. He backed away. Fuck. Oh, fuck me. What did she . . . Where is . . . ?

My eyes go wide. Carlisle sits on the living room couch, a giant white bandage wrapped around his head. His left eye peeks out from underneath, swollen and bruised a dark purple.