My right hand rub my eyes while the other searched for the alarm clock that probably had been somewhere on the bed. The blue clock was under my pillow. My eyes took some time to adjust before realized it was 3.44 o’clock in the morning. Still early. I stood up and walked to the bathroom. After doing my business, I headed to my bed to continue my sleep. When I got out of the toilet, I heard my mother and saw her feet. “Going to bed?” she asked. “Yeah,” I answered. I did not even look at her because I was too sleepy. I opened my bedroom door and switched on the fan.
Then, I remembered that I had to wake up early tomorrow for something important. I turned to my mother before I closed the door to ask for her help to wake me up tomorrow. “Mom,” I said, “can you wake me up later?” She was facing away from me. After I finished my question, she turned around slowly. In total shock I saw her. My mother, without a face. A blank skin, but staring at me. She said to me, telepathically “sure, I’ll wake you up later.” Then she walked off.
I stood in front of my door, frozen for about 20 seconds. I came into the room and turned on the lights. I took out all my albums since birth and looked at all my photos, all of them. Pictures of me with my friends and family were all faceless. Blank skin. I panicked. I turned on my computer to see the pictures I stored, all of them were blank as well. My mother, my father, my brothers had no face. I felt like crying. I felt tears coming out. It was then I finally realized, I too didn’t have face. How do you cry without eyes?
My mother suddenly opened the door as if she knew what happened. She said, “Don’t cry, child. There is no place for the tears to come out. You’ll get drown.” I touched my face. Nothing was there. No eyes, no lips, no expression, no soul. Then my mother said, “look outside the window.” And there it was every single one of my family members and friends. Faceless. They all whispered in my head “Appearance is not important, rite? Appearance is not important, rite? Appearance is not important, rite?”
It was driving me mad. I know I have a face, I said to myself. I ran to the kitchen to take a knife. I wanted to carve my skin and hopefully, there was a layer underneath, where my face was supposed to be. I held the knife tight; it was a meat-carving knife. I pressed my right thumb where I thought my eye is supposed to be. I wanted to carve around my thumb, hopefully peeling off the skin and reveal an eye. I took the sharp point and pressed, slowly slicing my skin. The pain was there but I didn’t care. I wanted a face.
I felt blood on my fingers and thought to myself, “this better work, I better have a face underneath this.” I did slice the first half, and then I made an extra large slice for the bottom half, just in case I missed the opening of my eye. I pressed my face with a towel and ran to a mirror. There I was, a knife in one hand, a bloody towel on the other and a weird looking circle on the right side of my face. No eye, just blood. And I could hear them chanted “Appearance is not important. Appearance is not important. Appearance is not important.”