Eyes.
Her eyes are what always caught my attention.
That radiant emerald had a mind numbing effect on me. It was if I was being drugged against my will every time we crossed paths.
Mere infatuating thoughts I told myself over and over. Nothing to get too worked up over.
That is, until her eyes began appearing everywhere. On other women. Billboards. Magazines. I couldnt escape them.
Was I losing my mind? Having a psychotic break? An episode that would eventually leave my body to be found hanging in the tree of my front yard by the local paperboy?
I couldnt let that happen. No. Not to me. I have so much to live for.
I had to find those eyes again. I had to stop the torment. Burning into the depths of my very soul. Eating away at the force of life itself.
I desired salvation. More than sleep. More than food. Days came and went. My body slowly decaying. My mind frantic. It thought of the slow and painful death that awaits.
Eyes.
I found them. At last. Now what to do? I had to stop them. Make them stop staring. They can see deeper inside of me. By the second their depth increases.
Waiting. For what must come next. For the darkness that is night. That is the time. I will strike. Only then will they stop haunting me. Only then will the madness end. The horrific nightmares that plague my awake.
The moon seems brighter than before. Does it know? Im sorry you have to see this at your full glory. It must be done. The stars lie. I swear its the truth. Why dont you believe me? You will soon see.
Behind. Its always from behind. Just like in the movies. It does work. Makes them not scream if the first blow is hard enough.
I hadnt thought this fully through. Should I leave her here? To die slowly? Make death quicker? No. The evidence. I cant leave the evidence. Home. No one will think to look there.
I hurried. The movement of the body. Driving home. Taking the freeway was easy. Tinted windows. Nothing was suspicious. No one would ever imagine.
Smells of water. Mold. My basement was rarely used. Just for storage. Mostly tools. Tools. Thats what I needed. Pliers. Needlenose. Those should work nicely. The old picklejar. Perfect.
Eyes. They stare at me. From high on the shelf. Taunt. Yell. They can do nothing to me. Not my soul. Not anymore. I stare back at them. Laugh. I have won.
