Miles Morales Mask Moving Eyes Novels & Stories

I'm breathing so fast, and my hands are shaking as I shine the flashlight on the body in front of me. My panic doubles over. Lying on the floor in a pool of blood, with a bullet wound on his forehead and lifeless eyes staring up at me, is none other than Morales, Dell’s boss. I scream louder than I’ve ever screamed before. My breath comes in short, rapid gasps, and I back away even further from the body, my whole body trembling. Tears trickle down my face as I struggle to make sense of what I am seeing. Morales is dead.

The sheer hatred in her cries seemed to pierce through the fabric, a curse aimed straight at Melissa's soul. But Melissa merely watched as they carried Hermosa away, a twisted, malicious smile curling on her lips. Her face contorted into something monstrous—ghoulish and terrifying. "Hahaha!" She let out another burst of deranged laughter before pulling out a lighter from her bag. She flicked it on, setting fire to a human-skin mask. The flames illuminated her side profile, casting eerie shadows across her already distorted expression. Then, piece by piece, she put on Hermosa's clothes. Her movements were slow, deliberate, filled with a chilling satisfaction, as if performing some sacred coro

I hated the fact that he was the only one who could bring the best smile out of me and also the deadliest fury in me. He moved closer and closer but I didn't step back, I stood still, staring intently into his soul. I didn't push him away, and nor did he back off, I could feel his hot breath on my face as he cupped my cheeks and whispered, “I know those eyes, I know you still feel something. Let go of this mask. Put on the Lisa I know. Put on the real Mellisa look”. The audacity in his voice caused my blood to boil. I bit my lower lips in annoyance and without thinking twice, stepped hard on his toes. So hard that it sent the 6-foot-tall him standing before me whining like a child.

My sobs were so violent that my body convulsed like I was having a seizure. I was going through a lot of pain, and I was losing my sense of self. My eyes stared blankly ahead, with no thoughts running in my mind. I knew Ivan was in the room with me, but it felt like he was miles away, in another realm, while I was in another. Through my blank eyes, I saw him pick up the phone and look at the picture again. Why was he looking at Eloise that way? Did he not have any respect for her or me that he would be so comfortable staring at her naked and battered body like she was a bikini model in a magazine?

"Your face is draining of color,what is it?" Uncle hands her a glass of water and she gulps half of it. "You're shaking,take a seat." She does and looks up with tears in her eyes. "It's miss Mona." "What about Mona?" Mama asks. "She said she couldn't do this and ran away." "No," mama whispers. "A motorcycle picked her up and left." I hear a grunt and then the shuttering of glasses behind me. I turn on time to find uncle catching papa,who almost fell down with a hand placed on the left side of his chest.

FLASHBACK CONTINUES Rodrigo POV It was like she cast a spell on not only me but the whole room, but it was me she was homed in on, she never took her eyes off me. Those intense sky-blue eyes felt like it was trying to bore holes into my soul. I dragged my eyes over her body, taking in every part of her. She was wearing a White Scalloped, long sleeve, high waisted jumpsuit. It hugged her curvaceous body in all the right places. It had a low plunging V-neckline, her breasts were slightly visible through the slit. She had a red peep toe, high heel on, 6” I would think. She had a very petite build, making her curves more pronounced. Everything about her from her neck down to her feet screamed el

My Papa who smiled even when they took him away… who still gave me everything. And they filmed it. They filmed him. A scream claws its way up my throat, but it gets stuck there, dissolving into a painful hiccup. Focus. I need to focus. With trembling fingers, I tap the screen and rewind just a few seconds. I pause on each face—mask on or off, every movement, every tattoo, every crooked smile. Adam. Spencer. Mateo. Those three are easy. Too easy. I know them the way I know the lines of my palm. Trash disguised as men.

I made a point to look away. With my pupils finally adjusting to the light, I could finally see him fully again. And I was taken aback by how different he looked from the day he came to destroy mine and my brother's life. He was wearing a thin but heavily decorated shirt across his bulking muscles, lines, and twines of gold enriching his status as they shined with the same vibrance his eyes did. His long legs were covered in ripped black jeans that hugged his thighs. Alpha Morax was tall, at least 6'3. His face was clean-shaven and his brows were fierce as they stared down at me.