Eyeless

It was a warm summer day, just like any other, when Aislinn Bates was born. Her eyes, emptiness voids. The skin — normally called eyelids — hung over the dark gaps like curtains that wished never to be opened. Her mother cried out when she received sight of her newborn. “What’s wrong with her?” She had screamed. “Where are her eyes!” It was a genetic mutation. A medical term called anophthalmia — an absence of once, or in some cases, two eyes. Aislinn was one of these cases.

It wasn’t long after her birth that she was put to adoption. More or less, her mother didn’t want here. Maybe, it was the gapless eyes that had done it for the women. Or, possibly, that she had quitted smoking (making her husband do that same) just so she could birth a healthy child. Even that horrible drinking problem she had started in college. Gone. “It was for the baby,” she had claimed. But when she saw Aislinn for the first time, why did that change?

Aislinn’s life from that point on, was a saddening sight (to those who could see). She spent it in an orphanage — Clarity Orphanage — as it was called. There, was where she considered the lowest part of her life. They didn’t treat her any better than the stray cat that fed off them. The nuns — who are always so much as perceived as family to most — weren’t in the slightest to her. They only fed her when needed to, and that thing called “love”, cease to exist. She was a mere blind child, that had no hope in the world; or adoption. So, at the young age of 6, she — Aislinn, ran away.

She was then alone. In some ways, she had always been alone. It was nice. She liked it very much. And if you were to ask her of this time, she would tell you about it, proud as can be. She had found a small corner in an alleyway, just her size, and resided there. Using the things she packed away in her pink Barbie backpack, she survived surprisingly well for her age and blindness.

It was during this time, her life started to look positive. And it was then, a boy — conveniently of the same age — found her, one mid-afternoon, alone in the alley. “You must be cold out here,” he had assumed.

“But it’s summer,” she squeaked back. She couldn’t see him, but he had been smiling. A smile that was quite rare for a boy in his condition. He had been diagnosed with leukemia only a few weeks before.

“But it’s much warmer in my house! Wanna see?” He told her.  Hand and hand, he had led Aislinn to his house. It was the biggest in the neighborhood, but of course, she didn’t see this. And the boy, didn’t ask why she couldn’t see it.

A kind boy, indeed he was.

His parents took her in with full arms, to her thankfulness (and help of the boy’s stubbornness). But they made no plans to file any adoption papers for her. And when the boy passed away, months later, she was on her own once again. His name was Alex.

Aislinn was on the road for almost a month this time. In the cold; winter.

You might be asking at this point: ‘If she is blind, how in the world can this young girl survive this long alone?’ Well, that is something only herself can explain. One can only put it as simple (and understandable) as this: Yes, she may be blind, but that doesn’t mean she cannot see. A talent she had sharpened over time, she had built her own sense of sight without sight itself. It might be something a person with sight couldn’t understand.

She made her way into a forest filled — to her dismay — with snow. She didn’t last long here. Collapsed and tired, she was ready to die. But she was found by someone once again. This time, a middle-aged man, with an accompanied dark beard down to his neck. He saved her, maybe out of pure empathy, but he still saved her. And that was what really mattered.

She ended up spending many years with this man — named Rich — who she considered her father. He grew to love her just like she had to him. Alone in the woods, working on wood all day; it was hard and lonely. She was blessing of company. He didn’t care she was blind. He didn’t care she wasn’t of his own blood. She was Aislinn. And that was enough for him.

For the first time in her life, Aislinn was truly happy. And this time, it wasn’t cut short.

She was grateful.

The House

Alen Daemons stood on the sidewalk of 951 Blair St.; the infamous abandoned house sitting across from him. The house was white, it’s paint slowly chipping off at it’s ends. The doors and windows were nailed shut with wooden planks, never to let anyone in again. He stared at it for a while. There was really no point in exploring this house, and yet, here he is, thinking about it. Maybe it was to prove himself. But to who? He wasn’t sure himself. He had no girlfriend, and barely any friends. Even his family practically hated him. He was a ‘spoiled brat’, after all.

He took one step, then two, then he was at the front porch of the house. He kicked the door, it flew open without any difficulty, probably from the countless times other teens have tried to get in. He lifted his foot to take his first step inside–

“Alen Daemons,” a voice said, impressed. Alen turned his head behind him. A tall boy, standing where he was standing only moments ago, almost his height, pale blonde hair and brown eyes — Christian Winsley. Just maybe, the only person in the city that’s just as rich as him. Maybe. His father owned a company that was endlessly competing against Alen’s father’s company. You could say they were born into the rivalry. A small smile was across his lips, “My, my. I would have never expected to see you here.”

Alen copied his smile, “Christian Winsley, it’s a pleasure.”

The other boy tilted his head, “Is it?” He walked up to the front porch, standing next to Alen. “I see you already got the door open. Nice job,” he complemented. Alen exhaled. It was time to cut the crap.

“So, why are you here, hm?” He asked, his blue eyes narrowed at the other boy. “What happened to helping daddy with his business?” Christian slipped his hand into his jeans, he pressed his back against the door frame.

“Shouldn’t I be saying the same?” Alen shrugged. Touché. “I wanted a break. What better than exploring a classic haunted house in the neighborhood. Too bad we don’t got a hot chick with us, I bet she would get all clingy, pressing her body against me, scared to death.” His eyebrows wagged.

Alen walked inside, “Disgusting.” Christian followed him in. It was completely empty. And not one ounce of light. “Damn,” he whispered.

“I hope you’re not afraid of the dark, Alen Daemons. I don’t want to hear you running out of here, screaming.” Christian said. Alen wanted to punch him.

“Ha, ha. You’re so funny. No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend, Christian Winsley.” He replied. Just barely, could Alen see Christian glaring at him in the darkness.

“You’re sense of humor isn’t any better, I can tell you that much.”

“Yeah, well–” There was a loud crash in another room. Alen and Christian both jumped back. “What the hell was that!” Christian shuffled for something in his pocket, pulling out his phone. He turned it’s camera light on.

“It’s called an iPhone,” he told Alen, tapping the phone. “Amazing invention, isn’t it?”

Alen pushed passed him, “Funny.” He said sarcastically. The walked into the other room, it was the kitchen. Broken glass was scattered across the floor. They both stared at it in amazement.

“I thought this placed was emptied after the owners died.” Christian said.

“It was.” Alen bent down on one knee and took a piece of glass in his hand. White porcelain. He took a second piece, then another. He started to collect a few. Christian stared at him from behind, curiously.

“What are you doing?”

Alen held up a piece, “Look,” The other boy squinted his eyes. “There’s paint on some of this glass–” He took up another piece, and pressed it together. They formed an eye. “This was a doll. Porcelain doll.” Alen finished. His mother owned a tons of those creepy dolls, he knew one when he saw one.

“You think a doll is attacking us? Talk about seeing too many Chucky movies.” Christian said.

Alen stood up, “No.” He paused. “I just think it’s kinda odd, don’t you? Why would there be broken glass here, more or less from a doll?”

“Beats me.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I sure don’t want to find out.”

They started towards the door. When he reached for the door, it slammed in their faces. “What–” Alen exclaimed.

Christian dashed to the back door, kicking it. “It’s stuck!” He yelled. Alen started to bang at a nearby window. Nothing. He stumbled towards the kitchen and grabbed a large piece of glass. Then, he took it and forced it at the window. The glass shattered in his hand, leaving it to bleed, and the window still in one piece.

“Goddamn it,” he cursed. There was another crash in the kitchen. Footsteps. Alen swallowed. “Christian,” he warned. “Maybe hurry up a little.”

“I’m trying!” The other boy yelled. “It’s not easy getting this door op–” He voice with cut off with a piercing screaming. Alen looked over. The other boy was now on the ground. A dark liquid surround him. Blood. Alen stepped back. He was going to puke.

“Oh God…” He cried. “Ohgodohgodohgod.” He banged at the window harder. He could try the door, but something was over there. Something that killed Christian. “Please!” He screamed. Harder and harder. There was a crack in the window. He took a breath. Then started to hit again. More cracks.

A banging started at the back and front door, like someone was hitting against the doors. Alen bit his cheek. Please, be begged. The window was halfway cracked now. Loud footsteps came back. They sounded like they were getting closer to him. “GO AWAY!” Alen yelled. He didn’t want to look at who or what it was, but something made him. A quick glance behind him and it was mental snapshotted in his head. Forever. A black figure with no defining figure or face. Just black. Blacker than any darkness or shadows. “Nonono,” he whispered. “Please…PLEASE…” It came closer, surrounding him. He stood pressed against the wall. No escape now. The window was still in place. He was doomed.

Something warm started to flow from his eyes, his nose, his neck. All he could see now is red. Alen screamed, but it only came out as a gagged. A gag that would never be finished. His neck was sliced within moments. He fell over. The blood surrounded him, just like Christian. He was dead.
It was April 23rd, five days after the two boys Alen Daemons and Cristian Winsley were found. It was said the cause of their deaths was suicide.

Mother

I heard the front door unlock, then there was the click of heels on the wooden floor of our kitchen. The fridge door was flung open. I uncrossed my legs and closed the textbook that was placed on my lap. I set it on the table and then went into the kitchen. My mother was leaning into the fridge, pulling out a beer bottle. “Where have you been?” I asked, leaning against the wall, my eyes narrowed suspiciously.

She looked up at me, silent. She closed the fridge and pulled off a magnet beer bottle opener, opening the beer, and taking a swish of it. “You know.” She went to walk passed me, but I stepped in front of her.

“No, I don’t know. Where have you been?” I repeated, my voice stronger this time. Her eyes flickered to me, then to the living room.

“Does it matter?” She took a large chug of the beer, then belching in my face. I stepped away, disgusted. She then pushed past me and slumped onto the couch. She put her beer on top of my textbook.

I ran to the table and took her beer off my textbook. I held it up to her face, “Mom, I spent 90 dollars on this book, don’t just put your lousy beer on it.” I pressed it to my chest, hugging it.

She tilted her head. “Expensive book, huh?” She took another sip. I grabbed the beer out of her hand.

“Yes it is, now tell me what you’ve been doing, you still haven’t answered me. I had to leave work early because Michael called me crying. What did you say to him? He said you just left after that.”

Her eyes remained on the beer, “You’re nagging me so much today, it’s like you’re my mother. That’s my job, not yours.”

“Maybe it would be your job if you actually did it.” I snapped back. She looked shocked for a moment, before going back to her usual unfazed face.

“Give me my beer back, Angie.” She commanded, holding out her hand.

I pulled it away, “Not until you explain what you’ve been doing.”

She took a deep breath, “I was out.”

“Doing what?”

“Stuff.” She growled. “Now leave me the fuck alone or I’m going to bash your head in.” I slammed the beer on the table, glaring while walking upstairs to my room. She looked back at me, bored.

I took a peek into Michael’s room, he was sound asleep in his bed, stuffies piled around him. I smiled, “Sweet dreams,” I whispered. I quietly closed the door and left to my room. I made my bed and slide into the sheets. It isn’t fair, I thought. He would be such a bright kid if our mother wasn’t so…

I fell asleep. By morning, I had forgotten ever thinking the thought.

Conscious

Blood dripped down my lips, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. In front of me was the remains of what once was a body. The entire body was ripped up, shredded, like something had bitten out of it; me. The stench of blood was overwhelming. I coughed, gagging, and clutching my stomach. I knew I shouldn’t of done it. I knew it. But the hunger had overcame me. And now, here I am, puking my guts out, because of that one choice I could have avoided.

Once I stopped hurling, I tried to pull myself up, using the side of the alley walls for help. I only fell back down in return. I could feel the blood drying around my lips, but I was too sick to care. I just wanted to find a bed and sleep. Sleep. It was the only thing I could to escape this nightmare. I felt like my body was slowly shutting down.

How long will it be until I finally die?

(It could be now.)

I sat up, pressed my back against the wall. I closed my eyes tightly. If it’s going to happen, make it quick.

(For what you’ve done all these years? No, no. It’s going to be long…and painful.)

The words echoed in my head. I knew it was true, but I still shook my head. “No…” I groaned. “No.”

(Yes.)

“No!” I screamed as loud as I possibly could in this condition. It ended in my voice cracking, and a painful cough. More blood. Why am I still bleeding? Is it the blood I consumed coming back out of me?

(It’s for what you did.)

“Maybe it is.” I agreed. “Maybe it is for what I’ve did. So what? Just fucking kill me already? I’m tired of this. Just kill me!”

(Is that what you really want?)

Yes, my mind whispered. Yes. End it all now, please. End it…

(That would be too easy-)

“Wouldn’t it?” A voice said behind me. I swung myself around. A dark haired man had a knife pointing in my direction. His dark eyes glimmered in the shadows.  “Much too easy.” We want a slow death, his voice whispered in my head.

“W-who are you?” I gasped. He walked closer, I stumbled back, hitting a puddle of water. It drenched my already strained jeans.

“I know what you are.” He continued. And I’m going to kill you.

In a blink of the eye, the knife was placed to my throat. He face was inches from mine. “I’m-” He slashed the knife across my neck. I gagged and fell over. My own blood flowing around me. The light only went through my eyes for a few moments before it all went black.

(I’m your thoughts; your conscious.)

Something

“You,” I spat. “You…you knew this whole time, didn’t you?” He looked up at me from his desk, there wasn’t an ounce of surprised in his face. There was no expression at all.

“So, what gave it away, hm?” I stared at him in disbelief. Everything we’ve been through. After everything. And that’s the thing he asks me.

“That’s what you’re worried about? What gave it away? I can’t believe you! Shouldn’t we be worrying about bigger things right now!” He sighed. He pushed the papers that were in front of him and slowly started to stand up. A piece of hair was hanging over his forehead, but he didn’t bother to fix it back. He probably doesn’t care.

“Why are you surprised about this? Did your really not know about any of it. You work here, Krystal. You’ve been working here. It’s not like we were hiding it from you.” He says calmly.

“Well, it must of been not that obvious because I sure had a hard time figuring it out!” I exclaim. He looks at me with a face I know. It’s a face I’ve see so many times in my life, on my parents faces. Disappointment.

“Krystal,” He says pausing. “You are blind. Did you not see it the time in that factory? Or at the hospital?” The memories flash in my mind. “Hm, how about the time at the fountain? The government building?” I search my memories. “The plaza?” My thoughts freeze. “Your own home. This entire building. Do you not see it now?” My bottom lip starts to quiver.

I should have known. It wasn’t it, it was him.

“You planned it, didn’t you. Everything…” I whisper. He walked next to me, and leaned close to my right ear; I could feel his lip’s warmth on my ear.

“Yes. It was me. Disappointed?” He leans back, smirking.

“You’re a bastard, I hope you know that.” I say bitterly. He finally pushed the strand of hair back in place.

“Oh honey, I’ve been told much worse thing than that.” I want to punch him in the face. But instead, I suck in air. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll choke on it and die. If only that was possible. I take a step towards the door; my only escape. He must of noticed because the moment I move my foot, he’s blocking the way out. “Are you really that desperate to leave me?”

“Who wouldn’t be.” A flash of amusement moves across his face.

“I have to say, Krystal. I’m glad it’s you and not anyone else.”

“Why thank you.” I say sarcastically.

“And I’m not saying that to compliment you.” He adds quickly. Bastard.

“Am I allowed to go, or is there more you want to insult me about? Because I have plenty of comebacks.” He narrows his eyes at me.

“Funny. You know, Krystal, I honestly thought we could work together. I really did. But you are much more difficult than I thought you would be. Quite sad actually. I had plans for you.” He moves away from the door. I take a step forward, he grabs my wrist. “Not so fast.”

“What now?” I ask annoyed. I’m done with this bullshit. He twists my arm and slams me into the wall. I gasp in shock. “What the hell are you-” He shoves his lips on mine and does something that could be called a kiss. I try to pull off him but he bits angrily onto my bottom lip. He lets go of me and I start to taste blood in my mouth. He whips his mouth.

“You suck at kissing.” I glare at him. It wasn’t me who decided to kiss you, bitch. “You may not think it, but we did have something. Whether you acknowledge it or not is up to you.” I go to leave out the door, completely ignoring him.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a lying asshole, I would believe you.” I say as I walk out. I’ll never acknowledge it, even though I know it’s the truth.

What Else?

“I love you,” I screamed. “I love you!” He stood there, his back to me. Not moving. Only staring at the window, that revealed the sun setting in the distance of the city. “What else do you want for me, huh?” He turned around. “What else…” Then, at that moment I knew. I knew why he had been hiding from me all these days, not showing his face to me when I walked in. Red blotches all over, purple — yellow bruises scatter on his flushed cheeks, swollen cheeks. He looked horrible.

“What do you want me to say?” He exclaimed. “That ‘I love you’ too? That I’m sorry? That- that I didn’t mean to hurt you? Alice, you already know all this. I’ve told you it a million times. So…damn it, why do you keep asking me it?” His eyes were glossy, I couldn’t tell if it was the effect of whatever had happened to him, or it was his emotions. I swallowed.

“Alen-”

“Do you even start,” he interrupted. “Just don’t. Please. I’m sorry, okay. I’m just-” He threw his hands up and started to pace around the room. “-I’m sick. I mean, look at me! I’m turning into a god-damn monster.”

I went to put my hand on his shoulder, “I can try help you-” He pulled himself away from me.

“No. No one can help me, that’s the problem. It’s impossible, Alice, don’t you get that? Why the hell do you think I’ve been trying to hide it this whole fucking time.” His eyes were red now, and his lips a mirthless smile. He sung his hand across the desk, knocking papers and books everywhere. “It’s over. I’m done.”

Iris

Iris laid on the side of the road, groaning. The pouring rain dripped down her face. Her lips were pressed tightly together, holding in a scream. Her left leg was numb with pain. A gunshot to the thigh, she couldn’t remember how much she had already bled because of it. Too much in pain to move, too awake to die. She had a problem, or two. And it was all because of him. He had shot her. He had broke her. She had been so stupid.

“I’ve been waiting,” was what he told her, after catching her creeping into his room, with a gun in her hand. She had done everything she could do to be quiet, but it failed. It was the first time it had. “What are you waiting for? You came here to kill me, right?” He continued. By this point, Iris had her jaw clenched. She knew she couldn’t do it. But she had to. She aimed her gun at his forehead. He was smirking, his blue eyes laughing. “Do it.” He commanded. Her hands were shaking. “Do it,” he repeated. He narrowed his eyes, “Come on already, do it. You’re wasting my time, dear.” She threw down the gun, he nodded. “Of course.” He grabbed something from under his bed sheets, it glistened in the light. A gun, much like hers. He knew. Then he shot her right in the leg. She fell over, grasping it. “You’re weak, so very weak.” He stepped towards her, she staggered back. “Iris, my dear, what’s wrong?”

She pulled herself up and ran. Her leg felt like it was burning in acid. She looked for the closest exit. The window. She flung herself through it, not even rethinking her decision. She landed on her hands and feet, a jolt went through her, but nothing she couldn’t survive. The gunshot on the other hand, was another story. She continued to run away, practically limping. From the window, Christian watched her, smiling.

Darkness

I drew my eyes open. Darkness. I pressed my hands against the walls, there was only a few inches between it and me. I kept my legs bent in order to fit inside it. My neck was aching from being crammed under the top. I must be in some kind of box or cage, was my first thought. I tried to remember my most recent of memories. Nothing. I tried again, gasping. It was like something was blocking my mind. Then…there was a spark of memory. I screamed.

My hands found their way to the gap where my right eye was. Over it was a cloth, probably a bandage. There was a crusty texture falling off it as I felt it. Blood. A flash of image of a match being lighted, and then an eyeball inside a jar filled with liquid. I drew my hand back, even in this darkness, I knew; I can only see with my left eye.

Moments later, a light came on and a set of footsteps could be heard. The small rectangular hole in the cage revealing nothing but brightness. I had been right, there was a solid black spot where my right eye’s vision once was. I breathed in, slowly. Painfully. There was more noise, shuffling. Then clicking sounds, unlocking of something. It came closer and closer, until I could hear it above me. The light became blinding, I squinted my good eye. The cage had been opened.

I pulled myself out of the small, enclosed space. There were other cages filled with people, all of them slowly getting out. I covered my mouth, almost gagging. Much like me, they were obviously experimented on, but I was nowhere near what had happened to them. Some had no arms, no legs; only stumps, horribly stitched up. Others were mutated, extra body parts, probably from those who had lost them. The rest, covered with bloody bandages, scarred up skins, gapless voids instead of eyes. And here I thought, I was bad.

I noticed a door towards the opposite side of the room, wide-open. I sprinted. I glanced behind for only a second. There, I saw a figure unlocking the last of the cages. A boy. Dark blonde hair, curly at their ends. It wasn’t until he turned around I could see his striking blue eyes. His mouth was a thin line. He motioned me to go with his hand; and I did.

I turned back around and ran.