Novel & Cerita Woke Up With Scratches On My Face

When I woke the next morning, my face wasn’t throbbing, after Maude had put a cold flannel on it, but it still hurt to touch and I could feel that part of my skin had become bumpy. I knew he left a mark, which meant I now had to put up with him mocking me in front of people, telling them how clumsy I am for falling over, or always managing to get myself scrapes and scratches. I don’t know if anyone ever actually believed him, but either way, they knew better than to voice their opinion.

Nothing more. I shook my head and swung my legs off the bed, padding barefoot toward the bathroom. The cool tile under my feet helped ground me as I splashed water on my face. When I caught a glimpse of my reflection, I noticed that some of the scrapes and bruises I had gotten earlier had already started to heal. I would be fine by morning. But then I noticed something else. My mark. The skin around it was red and tender, as if freshly disturbed. I stared at it in disbelief.

He is right on my heels, still wearing his pink thong. This can't be real. "Hey, wait. I payed for two hours. You can't leave." He says grabbing my hand and pulling me back. The reflexes kick in and my fist immediately swings right at his face, landing a hard blow on his cheek. Pain shoots through my hand and I grab it. The weird man is on the floor, holding his scrunched up face. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He yells and I groan still holding my hand.

I was in a little agony since I could feel every pressure she applied to the cotton ball she was holding. I sniffled and tried to hold back the tears as she continued to treat my injury. I couldn't help but think of how I got hurt in the first place. My father struck me last night, and I now have these scratches and bruises on my face. Mom and I were sitting on our couch in the living room, facing each other. I can see Mommy's entire face; everyone was right, I do look exactly like her since I inherited her hazel eyes.

And before leaving, he lightly passed his knife on my left cheek. "Stop!" I screamed as tears were falling, the pain was excruciating. He left after that, I just laid on the ground in pain. I couldn't get up and my vision was a little blurry. "Val!" I heard someone said before passing out. .......... I have no idea how long it's been, but I woke up and my body was hurting and so was my face. I looked my surroundings and I was in my old bedroom. "Mom, dad, Mateo?" I cried.

The events of the previous day flashed through my mind, and I remembered how I had stumbled straight to bed, too exhausted to tend to my wounds and bruises. I walked to the mirror, dreading what I would see but needing to face it. My reflection stared back at me, a grim testament to the rough night. Bruises mottled my face, each one a reminder of the blows I had taken. I leaned closer, gently touching the most painful spots, feeling the heat and tenderness beneath my fingertips. "They could have at least tried not to hit my face so much," I muttered to myself, frustration and dark humor mingling in my voice. My fingers traced the outline of the bruises, feeling the raised, swollen skin. I si

Blood poured out of the scratched areas on my skin and formed a pool on the ground. My face slashed as a result of the insane scratching and blood gushed out and mixed with the blood on the ground. At that moment, the itching completely halted, and my flesh began to burn ferociously. Meanwhile, the pool of blood on the ground swirled and began to take the shape of a face, with pupil-less eyes and razor-sharp pointed teeth which hissed loudly and I let out a clamour. My eyes flipped open and I jerked up, as a result, I collided with Judy’s head which was only inches away from my face, releasing a moan of pain. I was lying safely on my bed at home, it had only been a nightmare.

She has become part of my life, like a scar that never fades but stops hurting. Until last month. Last month, I started waking up with scratches on my arms. Small ones. Four parallel lines, like tiny fingernails. I showed Paul. He said I must be scratching myself in my sleep. He bought me gloves. The scratches kept appearing. Then the whispering started.

Nothing on me was hurting. He was back watching me and my confusion only seemed to piss him off more. " Your face ", lifting my hand up, I wiped my face. When I pulled my hand away, there was blood. Which had come from my cheek. " It is just a scratch , I can't even feel it ", I told him. " What if it was not just a scratch, what if you had gotten hurt or . . . " his words hung in the air. He seemed to stop himself and shook his head, looking mad at himself. " Or what ? Dead ? " I asked. His face darkened at the thought. " Forget it " he snapped and turned his back on me, ready to walk away.