When his mask cracks Novels & Stories

“Wait for me here. It won’t be long.” I watched them discuss as if I was just a chicken about to be slaughtered. The man pulled off his mask, revealing a hideous black scar that ran from his left eye to his jaw. My breath hitched, my body, shaking like a cat drenched in rain. “I…I don’t know you,” I stammered, my voice trembling. “I haven’t done anything against you. So why do you want me dead?”

Did you ever actually see me? The pain kept spreading, sharper, deeper. I stared at him, barely holding it together, but he just sneered. "Looking at me won't change anything. You killed my kid. Acting pathetic won't save you." He ripped the mask off my face. The strap snapped, flicking across his cheek. And then he froze. "You?" His voice cracked. "Why are you bleeding so much? Honey, what's wrong with you?"

I ordered. The sack mask was removed from his face as I watched his dislocated jaw almost drop. His face contorted in pain as he gushed out blood. "Now, how was the first level, Gregor? You loved it?" I mocked. "Y-you-u ca-n't break me, Mr. Ha-th..." he stammered. It seemed that wasn't enough either. I might have gone a little too soft there, didn't I? "Alright then, why don't we try this again?" I said. "Grab him."

I’m sorry. I thought, feeling the recoil of the crowbar after the first impact. As Mirabella screamed bloody murder, and Amber quietly sobbing in the corner, I knew the truth: Every time I wore this mask, I lost another piece of myself, replacing it with him. And one day, there might be nothing left.

His voice had cracked at some parts as he explained how dejected and frustrated he had felt and the way his mother started to treat him like he was an old and useless doll picked from the gutter just because of his face. Now I know why it's hard for him to let me go; now I know why he got so bombastic every time I asked about the mask in the past; now I know why he had looked so shocked and confused when I had seen his face last night. Now I know why he had said he loved me the night before even though I had pretended not to hear him—it was all because his face was cursed! I suddenly felt the itching feeling of the bubbling tears in my eyes. No! I'm not supposed to cry—that'll only make him

With a shaky exhale, I take another step forward, nervousness washing all over me. Then the door swings open. The sudden movement startles me, and I freeze in place, my eyes widening in shock as I catch sight of him. The ghost mask with the crack in the middle, It’s him. His green eyes lock onto mine, and in that instant, everything I’d prepared myself for, every terrible scenario that had played out in my mind, shatters into a million pieces.

“Rot under varnish.” They teased it up, and it came away in one satisfying unmasking—false strength yielded to true weakness that could actually be mended. That piece took their power cleanly, gratefully, like a hinge drinking oil. The rent drew itself together another inch. Then the third crossing arrived—the one the visions had not dared to name.

“There is more.” He closed his eyes for a moment like he was fighting himself. I watched the struggle in his face. I saw the way his chest rose and fell, slow and heavy, like something inside him was breaking open. When he opened his eyes, the mask he always wore was gone. Every wall he built for years had cracks running through it. “Ollie,” he said, voice low, “you are the one thing I am terrified to lose.” My breath caught. Heat spread through my chest, heavy and warm.

my voice cracked, and I hated myself for it. His gaze softened, but only for a heartbeat. Then he straightened, cold resolve slipping back over his face. “If you go to that room tonight, Ava,” he said firmly, “you’ll tell me why you disappeared, why you left me sick, and you’ll tell me why you hurt me so badly.”

“Some people just don’t know how good they have it. Don’t pay him any mind!” Astel took the opportunity to wrap his arms around Ilma’s waist. “Then, you’d better make it up to me.” “Okay, okay. I’ll make it up to you!” As they spoke, their eyes began to grow dreamy. They completely ignored my presence. I cleared my throat. Only then did the two of them stop. Ilma said impatiently, “Gareth, what’s the meaning of this? It’s just a gas mask, isn’t it? Do you have to lie about saving someone on Mounscour Hill? You’ll stop at nothing to make things difficult for Astel!”