Novel & Cerita Deep Skin Sleeping Skin Imprints

She grinned, "Yeah. We don't want you to go to your college with those acne, do we? Hell nah." I was bubbling like champagne, excited and happy. I've always wanted to go to a doctor and get these treated. Adelyn goes to a skin doctor every week even when she has flawless skin. I removed the clothes I'd need, because I didn't want to get late, and placed them on my study desk. Then I slipped into my bed and pulled the blanket over me. Sleep came early that night. Maybe it was the excitement of seeing a skin doctor or perhaps because I was happy. I wouldn't know but then I got a sweet dream. A dream where everything was perfect.

I also found it difficult to sleep and I would cry myself to sleep most times. My skin was sickly pale, it had lost its usual rosy glow and became sickly, I also became skinnier. Even though I would usually force myself to eat, the quantity was just too small so I decreased in weight instead of imcreasing. Because of my inability to sleep, my face was also ugly. Whenever I was in a shower, I would be scared to look at myself because I found out about the changes in my body. My breast became very bigger that I find it heavy sometimes, I also noticed stretch marks on my stomach and thighs, that irked me alot.

And Ashley was getting cringed at it, feeling like a ghost was keeping an eye on him. He finally couldn't bear it. “What do you want from me?” His voice sounded frustrated. “What skincare routine do you do? Your skin looks so smooth and soft; I want to touch it,” she said, swooning over his face. It was a compliment, and he liked it; he slid a little closer to her. “Why don't you touch it more then? I use coconut oil to massage my face every day before sleeping, and I also use onions. It's super healthy for the skin.”

The more I recalled, the hotter my face became, especially when I realized I nearly kissed him. You're so screwed, Amber. My eyes fell on his sleeping face again, this time lingering. Maybe it was our close proximity that let me take in every detail—the faintest lines, a blemish, a stray mark. Except he didn't have any. I wonder if he'd let me in on his skincare routine if I asked—even if he did, I probably wouldn't be able to afford it.

I didn’t sleep much that night. The faint glow of my mark, now spreading across my chest, felt like a brand—warm, steady, and impossible to ignore. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it pulsating like a living thing, as though it had its own heartbeat.

I rubbed my forehead, feeling heat creep up my neck. “Like, every video online is some girl with perfect skin, going, ‘Oh my god, this is SO easy, guys,’ and then proceeds to do fourteen invisible steps in three seconds. ‘Just do your moisturizer, primer, color corrector, concealer, foundation, brightening concealer, cream contour, setting powder, bronzer, blush, highlight, spray—’” Shane choked on his soda. “That’s… a lot.” “Right?” I said, pointing my fry at him for emphasis. “And that’s just the base. That’s before they even start drawing geometry on their eyelids.”

I woke to the smell of cold. Not fresh cold, not the kind that bit the nose and stung the skin. This was stale cold, the kind that clung to the walls and sank into the mattress overnight. For a few seconds, I lay there, trying to piece together the remnants of the dream I’d been dragged from. There were scratches on my skin. Thin, faint, but unmistakable. Three of them trailed down the inside of my left forearm, another pair across my bicep. The skin around them looked irritated and pink. They hadn’t been there when I went to bed. I was very sure of that.

There was no longer enough blood flowing through them to keep them healthy. His eyes were closed, and the skin around them had sunk so deeply that he looked as though he had not slept in weeks. His hair had thinned dramatically, with patches already fallen away. Dark, irregular blotches mottled his skin.

He doesn’t know whom to believe, so he believes no one anymore. Jenny’s fingers relaxed from the palm of her hand. Her nails left four crescent-shaped imprints on her palm. The skin inside these imprints turned white, while the surrounding skin turned red. Her hand hung limp at her side, and her fingertips touched the rough stone pavement. The rough surface scraped against her fingertips, producing a “scraping” sound.