❝𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕛𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕝❞creepypasta investigation

He didn't have a face ⁽ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ⁾

  ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

*My boyfriend didn't have a face... HE.DIDN'T.HAVE.A.FACE! (20/04/2024)

-I woke up in the middle of the night, turned around to check on my bf, and froze in fear. His features were gone. I understand i was hallucinating, but at that moment of terror, it was the most nightmarish thing i ever experienced.

He is fine, he was very confused and tried to calm me down, he told me that i had gasped loudly and moved my back to the wall, he tried to ask me what was wrong, but the only thing i told him was "look in the mirror, please look at your face" while trembling. He continued trying to pacify me, stroking my hair, but to me it wasn't him. Eventually i told him that he had no face. He started praying... (it went on for some time, i thought it would go away but it didn't, not until i fell asleep crying.)

I don't know what that was... My hallucinations are usually detached surroundings, shadows, bugs crawling on the wall, even beings lurcing in the corners of my room. But attaching to a real person? Making him take form of that which haunts me?

ᵢ ₐₘ ₛcₐᵣₑd, wₕₐₜ ᵢₛ ₕₐₚₚₑₙᵢₙg ₜₒ ₘₑ? ₐₘ ᵢ ₛₐₙₑ?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ᓚᘏᗢ- Rewrote it.

Lately, the whispers of paranoia had begun to gnaw at the edges of my sanity.

The night of April 20th started out like any other. I remember the way the moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the room. There was a stillness, a silence so profound it felt as if the world outside had ceased to exist.

I had grown accustomed to the occasional oddities that danced at the periphery of my vision—shadows that didn't belong, fleeting movements in the corners. They were unsettling, yes, but familiar in their own strange way.

But that night, as I turned to gaze upon my boyfriend's sleeping form, a visceral terror took hold. Where his face should have been, there was nothing—just a smooth expanse of skin, devoid of features. My heart pounded against my ribs. I knew I was awake, the coolness of the wall at my back a stark reminder of reality. Yet the impossible lay right beside me, breathing, existing.

I willed the hallucination to fade, but it clung to my perception with a stubbornness that defied logic. The room felt oppressive, the air thick with an energy that seemed to whisper of unknowable things.

"Look in the mirror, please look at your face," I had pleaded, with a trembling voice. Desperation had filled my eyes as i repeated, "You have no face."

His heart raced, an uneasy feeling settling in as he tried to make sense of my words. Fear had etched on my features.

The room filled with the sound of his soft prayers, a sense of unease hanging heavy in the air. The minutes stretched on, my sobs blending with his murmured words. I hoped the terror would fade, yet it lingered until exhaustion claimed me, tears staining my cheeks as I fell asleep.

Through the night, I waited for the dawn, for the return of his face, for the world to right itself. But as the hours stretched on, the darkness seemed to settle in my very bones.

Such is the horror of a loved one rendered faceless—a living void.

I began to question my own mind, to doubt the solidity of everything around me. The hallucinations grew bolder, more frequent. Shadows no longer content to lurk in the background began to take shape, whispering secrets in a language I felt I should understand. The bugs crawling on the walls seemed to spell out cryptic messages, their tiny legs tracing the outlines of my deepest fears.

The world became a canvas for my nightmares, reality and illusion blending until I could no longer tell them apart. I kept seeing his faceless form, not just at home, but everywhere—reflected in store windows, always silent, always watching.

It was madness, surely, but a madness that felt too tangible, too consistent to be the product of a fractured mind. I felt trapped in a story of my own making, a horror tale that had no end, only an ever-deepening descent into the unknown.

I cannot escape, a tale that I can no longer convince myself isn't real.

Because the most terrifying thing isn't the faceless man who haunts my every moment. It's the creeping realization that my reality is no longer my own, and the question that keeps me awake at night:

If my nightmares have found a way out of my head, what's to say they're not real after all?

 ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───