Why Does My Eye Feel Bruised When I Blink Novels & Stories

I blink and I wince, even my face freaking hurts. I try to straighten myself but I can't get myself to move a muscle. Everything aches. I groan as I bring my hand up to rub my face. It stops midway as I notice that it's no longer tied. My eyebrows pull together as I notice a bandage covering the length of my arm. Confusion seeps through me as I bring my other arm and notice that it's the same. I touch my face and feel the bandages covering the once bruised part of it.

“It hurts.” It doesn’t feel like it’s been an hour since I’ve been crying for no apparent reason. The fried rice in front of me is already full of tears. I feel exhausted after draining my tears. My breath is gasping, my throat feels dry, and I swelled my eyes. My vision became a little blurry because my eyes still pooled warm tears in my eyelids. It’s always the same as before; pain. My eyelids closed, and the last drops of my tears slid smoothly down my cheeks.

I stepped inside the room, not wanting to be defiant, as he looked like he wouldn't leave until I was inside the room. “Hey, what happened?” Lauren questioned, rubbing at her tired eyes. They were red and puffy. “Were you crying?” “No, why?” “Your eyes,” I pointed out, leaning in to peer inside them. “I got something inside them that's why, and they feel scratchy,” she replied, running her eyes once more as if to emphasize that she still felt them itching her. I noticed a bump on her temple, and her cheeks looked bruised. But when I left here earlier, she didn't look anything like this. Her face had been spotless, without any bruises or injuries showing now.

No one responds. My vision is blurred, something I'd grown used to. This time it felt different. Like a mist covering my eyes but not touching my skin. I blink several times, waiting for the dizziness that usually accompanies the action. It doesn't come. I hesitate before bringing a hand up to wipe at my eyes. The movement is sluggish; and my arm stings but it doesn't feel heavy. I'd grown used to the heaviness of my own body, I realize. An ache does form, greater than I've felt in awhile. It stretches across the muscles of my arm, accompanying the sting from my healing injury. My eyes hurt as I drag a fist over the lids but my vision clears. Clearer than I've felt in who knows how long.

I gape at it for a minute making my head ache slightly at the brightness of the room, feeling the wall to my side I feel the light adjuster so I dim the room a bit. I walk towards the mirror and gasp at the woman staring back at me. My hair looks like it's been attacked by birds, small cut near the hairline. I run my hand through the mess to tame it a bit but wince when I touch a sensitive spot at the back, covered by a cloth material. I look at my hand and sigh in relief when no blood is seen, my eyes have purplish and yellowish bruises around them. My bottom lip is burst, covered in flakes of dry blood.

They come at me even faster than before, I have to focus so much as a blur of arm and legs come flying at me in a blur. I'm not fast enough and one of the blows lands on my eyes. I see stars for a few seconds and throw my arms up to block my face incase they try to hit me again as I couldn't see for a second. My right eye now out until it heals I could only see out of one. I could feel something trickle over my now blind eyes.

ZENEVIEVA Why can't I open my eyes? I blinked and I felt pains, gosh!! All my body felt intense pains as If i was carrying a stone and a little sigh escaped my lips. My sight was blurry and my throat was scarred with dryness and pains. I tried swallowing my saliva to moist my throat but It iched me instead and I groaned in discomfort. A sharp gasp escaped from someone's lips and I wondered who it was. I couldn't see clearly and I stretched my hands and asked for water.

I whimpered softly. His eyes flew open and he looked down at me. Pulling back slightly, he tipped my chin to have a good look at my face. “Fuck, it’s bruised.” My fingers reached up to cautiously feel my cheek. And I chirped, “But the swelling’s gone down a little, right? It feels less tight here.” His thumbs rubbed my brows and he breathed, “Yes. Still, it’s purple. Like your beautiful eyes.” One of his thumb brushed under my left eye.

My left eye had crusted shut overnight; forcing it open sent fresh tears streaming. Another knock. Harder. More insistent. "He can't see me like this," I whispered to the empty room. Yes. I was still worried about Mateo. Could not yet place my fingers on what I really felt for him. Could it be the way he made me feel perfect? Or his fatherly charm? I don't think his money had any effect on me–alright. Not so much. I stumbled to the bathroom. Mirror still merciless. Purple had deepened to near-black around the socket. The whites of my eye were bloodshot. Lip scabbed and swollen. I tried to cover it with hair-long waves falling over the left side-but every movement pulled at the bruises.

She joked, and it made me laugh. I raised my head to look at him, his left eye slightly bruised. “That looks bad.” I stood up, touching his face. “I will go get some ointment.” I found one in my bedroom drawer. Given that I was mostly alone, I made up a plan to have basic things like these in case I ever needed them. When I returned, he was still standing there, and I carefully touched the bruise. He groaned a little, but his eyes were stuck on me. And his pupils seemed to dilate. It made me feel a bit uncomfortable.