Withered Bonnie Face Novels & Stories

On the anniversary of Andy’s death, I was finally allowed to remove the bandages. Suzanne carefully unwrapped them layer by layer before handing me a mirror. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. However, under everyone’s quiet encouragement, I took a deep breath and slowly reached for it. After six long years, I saw my own face again and broke down crying. Suzanne pulled out a handkerchief and wiped my tears gently. “Don’t cry. You just recovered.” Then, from behind her, she brought out a bouquet of flowers.

She smiled, “That would be great! I just want to see my mom happy instead of hearing her cry every night. She tries to hide it, but she’s not very good at it.” I smiled, “Why don’t you talk to Mister Koda while I go get your mother. You will be helping to make sure your dad gets the right punishment. But you need to make sure you tell him the truth. Okay?” She smiles as she nods. They sat on a picnic table, and I went to knock on the door, but Bonnie opened the door before I could knock. I smiled at her, “Hey. How are you holding up?” She smiled, but I could see she was not as well as she could be. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. She shrugged her shoulders, “I’m doing as well as expected. H

************************************************ Chris POV The news is on at the bar I'm currently sitting at drawing fellow patrons in as the news of what the police has discovered flashes on the screen along with a picture of her, her beautiful smile as bright as ever calls me in like a sirens song followed by the news that they found her in a shallow grave just outside of Benson Lake a few miles from Multnomah Falls by a couple with a dog that had smelt her decomposing body as they let him out to use the bathroom.

Bonnie sat quietly in the room where she was kept. Her face felt hot and she knew she had a cut on her lower lip from where she had been hit when she was grabbed. She had cried her eyes out until she didn't have the energy to cry anymore, so she just sat on the floor with her knees raised up to her chest and tried to think. Her life had changed so much since she ran out on her wedding…. It hadn't even been up to four months but so much had happened that it felt like years had passed.

I raised my head looking into her eyes, she kept a stern face, she changed the one I know had her expressions on her face, this one had seen more than what she was supposed to, I pulled her to my arms hugging her. Bonine, now it is Bonine not Adelia. I will not let anyone steal what is mine. I will not forgive that Grande. She made her this way. Bonine hid her face in my arms. I thought she was crying, but she did not how I miss my Bonine!

The woman's words finally quelled the siblings' enthusiasm. Finally given the opportunity to introduce herself, the middle-aged woman continued, "Don't worry, my dear. We're family, and we won't do anything to hurt you. "I'm Bonnie, 54 years old. I've been working all over the country, trying to make a living while desperately searching for my missing daughter." Indeed, a woman of Bonnie's age would naturally show signs of aging, and her extensive travels in search of her lost daughter had etched wrinkles on her face, narrating the passage of time.

She looked at the table and stopped. "Marcellus. What is all this?" "I cooked," I said. "You cooked. Marcellus Morello, who once burned water, cooked?" "I am capable of more than you give me credit for." She kissed my cheek, laughed then sat down. Bonnie slid into the chair across from me, her face was blank. She wore a gray hoodie and her hair in a messy bun. She looked tired and hollowed out. Like practice had taken something from her. I wanted to reach across the table and touch her hand but I refrained from that.

Shaking her head in disappointment for having to ask, I took Ada by the hand and helped her off the last rung. The stress of hiding us was written all over Ada, her face etched in worry, her shoulders stooped a little lower, and her bright eyes had lost some of their shine. She smoothed her apron with her hands. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the faces in the room. “I have much to tell you,” she said with a sad smile. “Have you seen Jackson or Fenis?” Aunt Bonnie asked. She missed her husband and had been a nervous wreck since his departure.

“But you love your face and this is my fault.” She shook her head with a softened gaze. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to protect you for once.” I swallowed thickly, overwhelmed by the sincerity in her eye. “Bonnie.” She cracked a smile, chuckling. “Plus, I don’t care about my looks anymore.” My eyes widened in surprise, until she broke out into a sob. “I don’t care about any of this.” “Of what?” I asked, caressing her other cheek. Bonnie leans into my touch, her forehead creased like she’s in more than just physical pain – like her heart was suffering.

"You're..." "My silly girl has clearly forgotten," her mother laughed, seeing Sarah's confusion. "This is Travis Winters, our old neighbor. When you were little, you thought he was so handsome that you kept declaring you'd marry him someday. You even took the ring your father gave me for our anniversary and presented him as your ‘engagement ring.’ Don't you remember?" With her mother's reminder, fragments of memories returned to Sarah, though these events had happened when she was barely nine years old. Looking at the stunningly handsome face before her, she couldn't help saying, "You're even more handsome than you were back then."