Emily Blunt Face Novels & Stories

Emily forgot how to breathe. The figure emerging from the darkness had her face. Not someone who looked like her. Not a distant resemblance or another version of herself shaped by some alternate universe. It was Emily's face exactly—the same eyes, the same mouth, the same scar near her eyebrow, even the same expression she saw reflected in the mirror every morning. Except this version of her was smiling. The smile was wrong. Too calm. Too knowing. Too certain. Kael moved in front of Emily instinctively, but Emily caught his arm.

The only thing left was convincing Emily. A familiar pair of heels clicked against the floor. I looked up. Emily. The moment she spotted me, her face softened. “There you are.” She walked over quickly. “I was mad at you earlier.” She stopped in front of me. “But I’m not anymore.” Her hand found my arm. She pressed a kiss to my cheek before sitting directly opposite me. I forced a smile. “That’s good.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait.” She leaned closer. “What happened to your eyebrow? Why is there a slit there?”

Her hands fumbled in the corner, the sound of zippers and clattering makeup spilling onto the floor. “I—I can’t find it!” she stammered. The shadow creature twisted under me, throwing its weight. My grip slipped, claws raking down my ribs. Pain flared white and hot. “You’ll find it now,” I snapped, forcing its head against the rug. “Or she dies!” That jolted her. Pelin scrambled to her bag, yanking the red crescent blade free. It glowed faintly, the markings along its edge pulsing like embers.

"Wait a minute! I'm not finished yet." As soon as Louis saw his sister's face, he burst out laughing. "Emily, your face is so funny. You're like a clown!" It was too white and smudged. Emily's eyebrows suddenly arched high. "What's wrong with my face?" Her eyes seemed to be shaking. “It's nothing, Emily. Your sunscreen just isn't even. Please be patient for a moment.” Frank was still trying his best. He rubbed her cheeks, but the cream remained messy.

I turned my back to the mirror and closed my eyes. Emily knew exactly what to do. She photographed my face first, even with my eyes closed I could see the flash. She moved my body gently when she needed in order to get a good shot of a mark that I did not know I had. It was over in a few minutes, and Emily announced that she was done. As I opened my eyes Emily was turning around but I caught that look on her face. Even Emily felt sorry for me, which made me feel even worse for myself.

Purple flames danced around her skin, and the illusion that once made her look like Emily began to crack. Her face shimmered, twisted, then peeled away like broken glass. Where once stood the elegant features of Emily, now stood a different woman entirely-shorter hair, sunken cheeks, narrow lips, and dull brown eyes. She collapsed to the floor, gasping.

Emily shouted, throwing a punch at Cian's face. But Cian was quicker. His hand shot out, catching Emily's fist mid-air. With a twisted smirk, he used her own momentum against her, flipping her over and slamming her to the ground with bone-crushing force. The impact was brutal, and the sickening sound of Emily's body hitting the floor made my insides churn.

The sudden light that appeared blinded Emily and she had to cover her face with her hands. However, she had no intention of lowering her hand because she suddenly remembered her swollen face. Kevin approached and squinted at her for a long time. Just as he was about to grab her hand, she quickly lay down and covered herself with the blanket. “Please turn off the light so I can sleep. Why do you turn on the lights in the middle of the night?” After saying that, Emily yawned. She has decided that she will sleep from here until he goes to work and before he returns, she will crawl back under the blanket and continue to sleep, try for a few more days, and her face will return to normal.

It smelt of bad memories and arduous days spent in isolation. Taking a seat on the couch, I picked up a newspaper clipping from the table. It was the last time the newspapers ever printed her picture. A collage with before and after. A merry girl in one frame while a pixelated face in the other. They couldn’t even look at her without heaving their guts out. The acid had ruined her face, making her almost unrecognizable. Her eyes were the same, though. The same plain brown with a tint of gold. “Thanks for taking care of me, Maddox,” Emily said to me when she learnt the truth from my grandfather, the one that I never wanted for her to know. I didn’t want her to feel she owed me anything. “I do

There are, however, no borders separating the two. At his words, Emily’s hand instinctively reached behind her. Her fingers closed around a rusty pair of scissors resting on a nearby tray, their edges dull but sharp enough to do harm. She tensed but kept her expression composed. “Yes,” she said softly, her voice sweet and measured. “A woman who’s never labored a day in her life. Surely there are other ways I can compensate.” She offered a smile—charming, disarming.