Masked Emotions Novels & Stories

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have been living in an underground basement that's completely shut off from the outside world. My parents have told me that the zombie apocalypse is terrorizing the outside world. The air is completely plagued with the zombie virus, and we'll die if we ever leave the basement. In order to save the supplies—which are already dwindling, to begin with—I've starved myself to the point I'm all skin and bones despite being only 18 years old. When I realize that there's only one last can of food left, I leave behind a suicide note. "Mom, Dad, now there's one less mouth to feed. You'll last a few more days." After that, I slit my wrist right away. Once I'm dead, my soul phases through the thick and heavy metal door. Bright sunlight illuminates the entire world. It's a beautiful, peaceful world filled with greenery. I can even hear birds chirping in the distance. Mom, Dad, and a bunch of people are throwing a barbecue party on the lawn. The mouth-watering smell of food being grilled permeates the air. So, it turns out that the zombie apocalypse is just a lie that's designated to trap me inside the fortress. I'm the only one who has died in this sunny, peaceful world.

Just because I refused to help my nephew, Albert Wesley, pay for his wedding, my very own sister took me to court. When my sister, Jocelyn Guthrie, appeared in court, she wept as she spoke. "I worked myself to the bone, taking every job I could find just to support your college education. I endured endless humiliation, and it even ruined my health." "You have an annual income of a million dollars, yet you won't even spare a fraction to help me! You're even talking about cutting ties with me? Do you even have a conscience?" Seeing me sitting in the defendant's seat, unmoved, she trembled as she revealed the grotesque scars covering her body, even pulling out a disability certificate. "I was even injured because of you. I was struck by a falling object at a construction site, leaving my leg permanently disabled. Now... I can't support my son anymore, so I'm asking you to repay the tuition. Isn't that the least you should do?" My mother, Samantha Lawrence, and my brother, Andrew Guthrie, nodded along, backing Jocelyn up, condemning me for my ingratitude. The entire courtroom erupted in anger, voices rising against me. "What a monster! Her education has gone to the dogs!" "Don't insult dogs! She's even worse than an animal!" "Three hundred thousand dollars is too little! Your Honor, she must repay it with interest!" Watching their righteous fury, I could only feel a bitter sense of irony. She claimed she had sacrificed everything to put me through four years of university. But the truth was... I had never even been to college at all.

After scoring high on the college entrance exams, I used my brother, Cameron Morrow’s laptop to look up dresses for my university acceptance party. Just as I was about to close his chat app that had been automatically logged in, a group chat notification suddenly popped up on the screen. "Naomi’s been in a bad mood lately. Let’s go somewhere with her for a few days and come back before Stella’s party." Something in my chest tightened, so I clicked into the chat without thinking. There were only four people inside: Dad, Mom, Cameron, and my cousin, Naomi Gibson. Then Cameron replied, "Fine. Just don’t bring Stella. I’m sick of her. If she hadn’t hidden Naomi’s exam admission ticket on the last day, Naomi wouldn’t have failed the exams." Mom quickly responded, "I never thought Stella would stoop that low just to fight for attention. Good thing she still did well on the exams. I heard reporters from the local station are coming to interview her at the party. The relatives are all desperate to attend." Then Dad sent a voice message. "Oh, right, isn’t Naomi trying to become an influencer? Tell her to dress up nicely that day." I stared at the glowing screen, my nails digging hard into my palm. Then suddenly, I laughed. Picking up my phone, I called my homeroom teacher, Ms. Adrianna Wilson. "Ms. Wilson, I’m canceling the party. And please cancel the media interview too."

After I refused for the eighth time to give my daughter a monthly allowance of $80, she went live online to denounce me. During the broadcast, she shared screenshots of our messages, showing how she had repeatedly and desperately asked me for money after the new school term began. "Mom, I just got my period. I do not have money to buy sanitary pads. Could you send me this month's allowance?" I replied calmly, "No." "Mom, I have not eaten in three days. I am really hungry." I responded with sarcasm. "What does that have to do with me?" The screen quickly filled with comments calling me suffocatingly cruel and heartless. Looking straight into the camera, she sobbed uncontrollably. "Mom, I am not asking for much. I only need $80 a month for living expenses. "Do you really have to push me to death before you feel satisfied?" Within a short time, I became the target of widespread online abuse. A well-known education influencer reached out to me. "It is only $80. It is not something you cannot afford. Why are you treating your own daughter so harshly?" I looked at her calmly. "Try livestreaming seven days of life with me and my daughter. "If you can do that, you'll understand."

During a kindergarten parent-teacher conference, a rich wife accuses me of stealing her bag. I'm baffled. I bought the bag myself abroad, and it even has my name etched on it. However, when I scrutinize the bag, I discover that my name is missing. I call my husband, and he impatiently says, "I gave your bag to Jen. She's fresh out of college and needs an expensive bag to make herself look good. Even Finn said the bag is too young for you—it suits Jen more. You're too old for these things. You should be glad to even have a fake one." I bark out an exasperated laugh. I can go without having a husband, but the bag has to be returned to me.

I've gone to the church to pray for my son, Robert Scott. On the way home, my carriage is overturned because the horses suffer from a shock. When I wake up, I look at my family gathering around my bed. Then, I decide to pull a prank on them. "Sorry, but who are you?" I do my best to suppress the smile that threatens to appear on my face. I want to see how my family is going to comfort me now that I have "amnesia". Will Mom and my husband, Jeremy Scott, take my hands comfortingly? Or will Robert lunge at me while crying out to me? What I don't expect is to see my family breathing sighs of relief after their initial shock has faded away. Mom is the first one to speak up with a hint of relief coloring her tone. "Since you've already forgotten all about us, then it's fine. Maisie, you're actually the adopted daughter of the Liddell family. Amber is the actual heiress of the Liddell family." Jeremy points at me while telling Robert, "Robbie, you must address her as Aunt Maisie." Before I can recover from my shock, I see my own son, whom I'm willing to sacrifice my life to protect, running over to hug Amber Liddell, the fake heiress, happily. "Mom, I've spent the whole day playing outside! Oh, I miss you so much!" So, it turns out that my case of amnesia is exactly what this family wants. In that case, I might as well abandon this farce of a family.

The day my parents divorced, the rain wouldn’t stop. Two agreements sat on the table. One meant staying in the old Eastwood District with my gambling-addicted father, Alexander Clark, drowning in debt. The other meant leaving for Silverstrand Coast with my mother, Charlotte Hayes, who was remarrying into wealth. In my last life, my younger brother, Mathias Clark, cried and clung to Mom while I quietly packed my things and chose to stay with Dad. Later, he quit gambling and struck it rich during a redevelopment boom. He poured everything into raising me right. Meanwhile, Mathias was trapped in his stepfather’s house—isolated, controlled, never allowed outside—until depression took his life. But this time, everything changed. Mathias snatched the cigarette from Dad’s hand and hugged him tightly, refusing to let go. "Tyler, I feel bad for Dad. You go enjoy the good life over there. I’ll stay and take care of him for you." Dad froze for a moment, then smiled with relief and patted his shoulder. I said nothing. I simply picked up the train ticket to the coast. What he didn’t know was that… In my last life, the reason Dad was able to quit gambling was because I had a brain tumor. I worked myself to the brink of coughing up blood just to repay his debts. I traded my life… for his redemption.

The ambulance’s siren blared as it sped toward the hospital. But an obnoxious power-walking mob blocked its path at the entrance of our residential area. As a result, the ambulance could not leave the area. I got out of the car to negotiate with that group of power-walkers. I immediately recognized that the woman who led the mob was none other than my mother-in-law, Miranda White. “Miranda, the illness of someone important to me has flared up. He’s in critical condition! “Please get these people to move and let the ambulance pass! Quick!” I was frantic with worry. But Miranda shot me a sideways glance and jumped to conclusions. “He should’ve died a long time ago! “He’s your father. What gives him the nerve to interfere in Caleb’s marital home?! If he’s sick, he deserves it!” Right after she finished her sentence, she waved her arms and called more people over. The number of people joining the power-walking mob continued to increase. They packed the road so tightly that it was completely blocked. When it became clear the ambulance could not possibly leave the area, Miranda shot me a smug glance. She picked up her phone and said in a coy voice, “Honey, what are you doing at home? Come down and join me for a power walk! Getting some exercise is what matters most for your health.” Inside the ambulance, the phone screen next to the patient lit up for a moment, then went dark again. It was not my father who had collapsed.

Mom always said my entire life ran on luck. When I ranked first in my class, she said, "You just guessed really well." When I won a gold medal, she said, "The judges must've been blind." When I got into Westridge University, she told everyone, "This kid has no real ability, just good luck!" So on my first day of college, she tossed me a book of scratch cards. "Since your luck's so good anyway, might as well let it handle your living expenses too. "You get one book per semester. However much you scratch off is all you get. "And just so you can't come crying to me about being broke, I'm blocking you now. I'll add you back next semester." With that, she ignored every one of my desperate pleas and blocked me on every single platform. I wanted to cry but could not even manage tears. All I could do was scratch two cards every day. On good days, I would win 20 to 50 dollars. Most days, I won absolutely nothing. I survived by sneaking expired cookies out of my roommates' trash. By the last week of the semester, I had developed severe anemia. As I used every ounce of strength to scratch the final card, I laughed. Mom was right. My luck really was incredible.

The night before Grandma's surgery, I pulled my adoptive father, Robert Shaw, into the office and made him stay up with me, going through the medical plans in detail until dawn. All this was because, in my previous life, when Grandma's heart condition suddenly worsened, the "real daughter", my younger sister, Jill Shaw, insisted on taking my position as Grandma's attending physician so she could personally perform Grandma's heart transplant. I knew she had only attended a three-year vocational nursing school, so I refused. However, Jill thought that I was humiliating her. To prove herself, she impersonated me and secretly performed the surgery on Grandma. The next day, Grandma died on the spot from a rejection reaction. Her blood vessels ruptured. When Robert arrived at the scene, Jill immediately threw herself in his arms, sobbing, "Dad, I never thought that Janice would be so afraid of me taking her spot as the attending physician that she'd break hospital rules and operate on Grandma in the middle of the night!" Before I could explain myself, my adoptive mother, Molly Walton, jumped in to accuse me, "Janice, you're a murderer! Grandma trusted Jill to operate on her, so you tampered with the surgery and killed her!" Robert, blinded by rage, shoved me straight off the 36th floor. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day Jill planned to operate on Grandma.