Eyes

Eyes

Eyes. They say that eyes are the gateway to the soul, and you can read everything in a person’s eyes. Eyes are the story tellers of the truth, the window to the heart, the opening to everything about a person. However, some people manipulate this belief and change their eyes. They become masters at making the world see in their eyes what they want. They use eyes to deceive, to lie, and most of all to intimidate.

And in his eyes I saw anger. I saw death, pain, hatred, but most of all anger. The way they furled up, and the way they had a glint to them that made them terrifying. I was scared, I wasn’t just scared; I was immobilized by his angry hatred towards me, and his intent to kill me. I knew he would do it, I knew he would destroy me and everything that there is about me.

And that’s not the end of it. As Banksy said, you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time. I’m sure somebody else said it, but he’s who I know it from. He would be killing me twice with one bullet, because nobody knew I existed. I was his son, who he had kept locked up for my entire life.

I looked into his eyes once more, as he held the gun to my head. I saw what would happen in his eyes. He would pull the trigger, whispering “I’m sorry.” While he was doing it. He would get blood splattered on him, and then look on in anger and sadness while I dropped to the ground. He would slowly go insane over the loss of me that was his fault, and eventually kill himself.

He would be pacing around the cabin, freaking out and crying, maybe scream and punch out a window. He would grab his gun, hold it to his head, then throw it to the ground and scream again. He would do this multiple times, and then finally hold it to his head one last time. He would close his eyes, and pull the trigger.

I looked up one last time. He stiffened his arm, as though about to shoot, and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth, and I knew it was about to happen as I saw in his eyes. He then whispered, in the quietest voice I had ever heard him use, just barely loud enough to hear, “I love you.” He then turned the gun towards himself, put it in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. My eyes died that day.