Losing Face is a scary horror story written by a ScaryForKids user named iwasdeadbeforeidied13. It’s about a young boy who is bullied and has a terrible accident that leaves him horribly disfigured.
Ever since I was born, my twin brother Tommy was my best friend. We didn’t have an easy life. Our sister committed suicide years ago and our older brother has severe condition called “Xeroderma pigmentosum” which means he is allergic to sunlight. When he was ten years old, Tommy got a bad case of Alopecia and lost all his hair. All the other kids at school made fun of him, but he didn’t care. That was the best thing about Tommy. He always found a reason to smile.
Then one day, when we were about 14, something awful happened. We were in our woodwork class making kids toys. Tommy went to over to wait for the sander. He had just started sanding down his block of wood when someone suddenly pushed him from behind. He lost his balance and fell forward onto the sander, which was still turned on. There was a grinding sound and a horrific, agonized scream. Everyone looked around. A lot of them covered their eyes, not wanting to see the gruesome scene. Who could blame them?
My brother’s face had been practically torn off. There was a lot of blood. An ambulance came and he was rushed to hospital. Tommy survived, but his face was never the same. He had no nose and no lips. His eyelids were gone too. Our mother couldn’t even bear to look at him. Our father made him wear a paper bag over his head when he was in the house.
The bullying got much worse after that. The kids in school were much more cruel and heartless. They pointed at him, laughed at him and called him horrible names. It was relentless, but through it all, my brother Tommy kept on smiling. However, I knew his smile was just a mask. Deep inside, I knew he was crying bitter tears.
Almost a year had gone by when the attacks began. It was front page news and the town was gripped by fear. A teenage boy had been mutilated as he lay in his bed. His injuries were so severe that he was put into intensive care. I stared at the photos that were published in the newspaper. The before photo showed him smiling for the camera in his school uniform. The after photo made me feel sick. His nose had been cut off, one of his eyes had been gouged out, his lips sliced off and a ghoulish grin had been carved into his face.
I recognised him from the before photo. It was the boy who had pushed my brother into the sander.
“Have you seen this?” I asked, pointing to the story in the paper.
Tommy just nodded. “Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “It’s a tragedy…”
A couple of days later, the newspapers were reporting that it had happened again. Someone else had been found mutilated in their bed. This time it was a girl from our school. The skin had been peeled off her entire face. She looked like a big hunk of raw meat with eyes.
It kept happening again and again. Every few days, some kids we knew would be attacked in their sleep and mutilated beyond recognition. Some had their eyes gouged out, some had a smile carved into their cheeks, some had their noses cut off and others had cruel words carved into their foreheads. The police said that the only connection they could find between the victims was they went to the same school.
If they had asked me, I could have pointed out one more connection. They were all kids who had bullied my brother.
My mother was frightened by what she read in the newspapers. She told us there was a maniac on the loose and begged us to be careful. Tommy just looked at her with a mischievous look in his eye and said, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll be safe.”
His tone of voice was way too matter of fact, as if he knew something we didn’t know.
That same night, I was lying in bed, drifting off to sleep when I heard a door creak open. I climbed out of bed and crept quietly out into the hallway. At the bottom of the stairs stood Tommy. He was still in his pyjamas, but in his right hand, he was clutching a blood-stained knife.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
When he heard my voice, he looked up at me in shock. Then, his deformed face wisted into a wide grin.
“Nowhere,” he replied. “I’ve just been out for a walk.”
I didn’t believe him for a second. I knew exactly what he’d been out doing. I ran into my parents room yelling at them to get up.
“Tommy’s been sneaking out at night!” I screamed. “He’s got a knife. It’s covered in blood!”
My father pushed past me and ran down the stairs. He snatched the bloody knife out of Tommy’s hand and threw it across the room. Tommy went nuts and my dad had to wrestle him to the ground. He was struggling and shrieking like something that came from beyond the grave. My mother quickly phoned the police and they came to take Tommy into custody.
The police collected all the evidence. They had a solid case against Tommy, but while he was in jail, he confessed it all to a psychiatrist anyway. My parents were devastated. They couldn’t understand how their son could do such things. It turned out that Tommy went insane from all the emotional and mental torment those kids put him through. He broke into their houses at night and destroyed their faces.
“I did it so their lives would be ruined, just like they ruined my life,” he said when we visited him in the mental hospital.
“But how did you stop them screaming?” I asked.
“Knock out drugs,” he replied with a smile. “A few drops and they won’t wake up for anything.”
Tommy will never get out of the insane asylum. He’s going to be there for the rest of his life and I, for one, am kind of glad about that. These days, i find it very hard to sleep. Every time I hear a door creaking at night, a chill runs down my spine and, just for a moment, I wonder if Tommy has come home.
The moral of this story (yes there is a moral) is: Never push someone too far, because sooner or later, one of you will have to fall.