Empty Look In Eyes Novels & Stories

And empty up her insides. "Were you ever going to tell me who you are?" His crystal blue eyes were glowing as they stared at her intensely. The moon was shining brightly outside, and the soft light illuminated his face just enough to show off his sharp features. His face was cold too, with no expression, his eyes blank.

Steven was lying on his bed, his head propped up on the pillow and his eyes closed like he was asleep. But in reality, the exhaustion from the day had caused him to pass out instead. His swollen eyes were glazed and hollow, completely devoid of life or energy. The bloodshot pupils seemed dim and unenthusiastic, as if the light had faded from behind them. The dark circles under his eyes only deepened the lifeless expression on his face, highlighting the deep exhaustion and fatigue. His tired eyes were blank and distant.

Looking at me with eyes that are completely empty. No warmth. No anger. No pain. Just... nothing. It's more terrifying than anything I've imagined.

His arms sweep the air in an absurd, graceful motion. It's at this moment that my eyes meet his. Or what remains of them. His good eye, the left, is nothing but a cloudy window, lifeless, without reproach, without anything. The other is a closed battlefield. The gaze I had read there a few seconds earlier – that silent "go," that ultimate pity – has vanished. There is only an object. A thing being carried away. They take him out of the room. His heels scrape the floor one last time. The door closes. The silence returns, but it is different now. It is hollow. It is populated by absence.

She looked so fragile. And so…hollow….and broken. Like someone had reached inside her and scooped out everything that made her her, leaving behind just this empty shell. Like someone has taken one of the reasons behind her happiness. She looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes; the ones that used to sparkle with life and joy and love—they were dull now. Almost lifeless. And her eyes were red, there were tears sliding down her pale cheeks, silent and steady, as if she'd been crying for so long she didn't even notice anymore.

He smelled like cold air and coins, like something carved out of winter. For the first time, I looked right at him, really looked. His eyes were the same pale gray as before, but up close they were so light they looked empty, the irises blurring into the whites. If it weren’t for the pinpoint pupils, I’d have sworn he was blind. He saw everything. I could feel it: the way his gaze swept over my face, the fever in my cheeks, the angry throb of my eye. He didn’t gloat. He didn’t smirk. He just watched, soaking up every tremor.

But my eyes were different. Above the glowing, newborn skin, my green hazel eyes stared back at me from the glass. They were completely empty. Dead. There was no light in them, no spark of life, no hope. Just two flat, hollow voids sitting in a face that had been polished and prepped for someone else's consumption. I looked like an actual doll. A plastic, lifeless thing meant to be put on a shelf. Meant to be displayed. Meant to be owned. I stared into those dead eyes and the question surfaced in my mind, dull and exhausting.

And I froze in fear at the sight staring back. His eyes; those striking emerald eyes that always looked alive, fierce and real were now empty. The green had dulled into something almost lifeless but menacing at the same time, and yet there was a strange, swirling depth to them, like a dark current just beneath the surface. It was like looking into a storm that promised nothing but ruin. His skin was pale—unnaturally pale—as if all the color had been drained from him. The veins at his temples and neck were faintly visible under the light, looking like a ghostly blue web. His lips were drawn tight, bloodless.

She looked at me intensely without batting her eyes. “Hey! Blink your eyes. Otherwise, your eyes will be dry and sore. I don’t want to take care of you if you get sore eyes later.” Kanya lazily turned her gaze forward. “If I hurt my eyes, the sign is I can’t see anything weird anymore.” “You won’t be able to write later. Don’t underestimate sore eyes because it feels very uncomfortable when your vision is disturbed. So, just follow my words.” “Yeah, yeah,” She lazily replied.

I skillfully walk over to the light switch , the light burns my sore eyes – leaving me to squint until they properly adjust. My legs slowly move , one after the other – my movements lack will. My eyes look at my feet , and when they stop – I slowly lift my head to see what I had stopped in front of. My eyes meet with a pair of red , swollen , empty eyes – all I could do was look at them and watch how blank and how they lacked any emotion. Stray hair strands are plastered to my face , due to the tears sticking them to my skin. Something catches my eyes as they blink towards my chest. Three nail drag marks are drawn against my chest – a little blood is visible , but it is just a scrap wound. T