When his mask cracks Novels & Stories

Shhh. I screamed and swung my fist at the glass. The mirror shattered with a deafening crack, its splinters slicing into my skin. My knuckles bled freely, crimson dripping down the wall. The mask’s fractured reflection multiplied across the shards, hundreds of images grinning back at me through the cracks. “Keep moving,” I toldmyself, panting. “Don’t stop.”

“Can you?” Alessio’s mouth found him again. “Not tonight.” The light flickered once more. And when it came back fully the mirror was cracked. A single line through the center. Like a warning. Like a countdown.

"Do you take this woman to be your wife, to stand by her through thick and thin?" "I do," the man said, his voice muffled by the mask. The guests whispered in awe. Howard Larson, the Larson family's big shot, was so in love with me that he would not let a bad cold stop our big day. He did not want to disappoint me. "Wait a second." The man's eyes darted around, and his forehead was dotted with sweat. I smiled and asked, "Howard, you're looking a bit pale. Too busy with the wedding to remember your medicine?"

Above us, the sky had a crack, as if from an earthquake. It was the first time I’d seen Sven since we had returned to London, and he seemed less dazed, now—more focused. His eyes had sharpened, and he spoke more comfortably, though his voice remained a grit-soaked growl. His mask never left his face; I still saw bloody wounds spiraling out from its ends like red rivers.

“You don’t have to prove anything to them.” He looked up sharply, and for a heartbeat, I thought he might lash out. But his expression cracked—just slightly. The edges of the mask he wore every day, every hour, every breath, were beginning to fall apart. “You shouldn’t be speaking to me,” he said suddenly. I blinked, caught off guard. The words made me step back a bit. My breath hitched. I didn’t answer right away. My mind raced for meaning, for explanation. Was this some kind of defence mechanism? A push to drive me away before I got too close?

It was a promise, a warning, a question all wrapped into one. “Let me go,” I whispered, refusing to meet his gaze. “Look at me,” he said. I didn’t move. “Please,” he added, the word so quiet I almost didn’t hear it. Against my better judgment, I turned to face him. And that’s when I saw it—the crack in his armor. The vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. It was there, just for a moment, before it disappeared, replaced by the same unreadable mask he always wore.

“I can’t.” “What do you mean you can’t?” His voice started to show a hint of his frustration, his mask completely down- showcasing the tender hurting male underneath. Then he quickly inhaled. “Is it someone else? Am I... Am I too late?” His voice turned to a whisper near the end, his soul visibly shattered before me.

Like this, everything feels perfect. But then I remember who I am, and who he is, and what my passing out might have meant. In a panic, I reach up, relaxing only when my fingers touch the edge of my mask. He doesn’t move away from me, but he does frown now, his handsome face becoming darker. “Did you think I would break my promise?” he asks. “I wasn’t sure,” I admit, as I try to relax again. It feels more difficult now, with the adrenaline coursing through me.

He’s angry. I creep closer. I need to hear his voice, to see something. I have to find something useful, a way to identify him or give us any kind of lead. He turns. His mask is different this time. It’s darker, the edges sharper. Almost like it’s a crude, homage version of the one he wore before... but his eyes… I flinch, because this time, I see them. Milky white. Familiar in a way that makes my chest ache and my stomach turn. He’s like me.

*You are stronger than you think. He stared at it for a long moment, then exhaled slowly, his shoulders sinking. “That’s it?” “That’s it,” I said. His hand closed around the paper, crumpling it slightly. “And the other? The one about me?” I shook my head, my voice cracking. “Burned. I’ll never know.” For the first time, his mask slipped. Pain flickered across his face, raw and sharp, before he turned away. “You chose yourself,” he repeated quietly.