Eye For an Eye
I do not know what had originally inspired me but, whatever it was, it came upon me with such a sudden force that I believe no one could ever resist. It had all happened the night before with her phone call. I never thought that call would have come, but it did. She said she was moving away, going far off to Europe somewhere with some guy; what his name was I didn’t ask. At first, when she hung up on me, I thought that she was just playing one of our games again. However, after a moment I realized that it was true, and I knew she was not coming back. It was then that sorrow over took my mind and, soon after came the first of those thoughts had rung clear in my psyche. They compelled, nearly drove me mad, and though I resisted for a while, the strain was too much to bear and I had given in.
Now I lay in darkness, a putrid odor within the room and grime soaking my muscle shirt. I felt tiny beads of sweat form atop my brow and trickle down into my eyes. I did not care for the stinging they brought, I had sat upon that dilapidated sofa for the past four hours, never had gotten up to put my boxers back on, never even cared for a drink of water as I sat there. My eyes were the only things I moved and these rolled slowly in a semi-conscious haze as I surveyed the apartment for the thousandth time. By the dim lighting of the early morning sunbeams through closed shutters, I could faintly distinguish the walls of the living room; the yellowish green paint had already begun to peal off in some places. The television was still on, though it only showed static and made little low crunching noises. Black’s starting to win this time. I thought, and it was good, white had been winning for the past 2 hours.
Somehow, that thought managed to force a half smile onto my face—my boredom had finally driven me mad. That’s why she had left me, I suppose, she said that she could not stand my boorishness and how I managed to turn nearly every happy memory into one that she had have would liked to forget. I didn’t try to make it that way, or, at least I think I tried. But how could I have known? Every time I was around her, she seemed interested in me and how I felt. She should have told me that she found my humor dull and my presence unpleasant. At least then I would have tried to change or, at least, backed off a little. But no she would never have told me, that’s one thing that I could have expected from her. Lying snake!
My eyes drifted again, this time to the side of the couch. There was a night table there, its corners bashed in and the top of it scratched so much one would think it was used to test knives on. Upon the table there lay a knife, red with blood. Something red and watery trickled slowly down both my thighs to sink into the space of the couch between my legs. I looked at my wrists: both had deep slashes from where the blood flowed. You did not do this to yourself. You would never had thought of committing such a deed. These words were true though, or at least in my mind they were. I would never have thought of committing suicide. She had cut my wrists; I could vaguely remember it: the wicked look on her face, the evil glare within her eyes… the cold laughter that followed when the deed was done. She had cut me, that I was sure of, but what had happened afterwards, I couldn’t recall.
Oh, but she did not cut me with the knife… No, that would have been too easy, too painless a death for her to contrive. She did it with her mouth: through each of those words that cut me deeper then any knife had ever could. And then there was her eyes, the look within them entreated me to do what I had just done. Yes, I do believe that I saw the wicked look in her eyes: those two grim spheres of grey that twinkled with an incessant evil. Those two eyes of wonder that had once entreated me to take them and their owners ears into confidence and that had haunted so cruelly once my confidence was betrayed. Oh, but it was good that they did not laugh anymore; their owner was gone, and I would soon be as well. My leaving would be slightly different then hers, but at least I did not have to fear those eyes anymore. They say that words cut deeper then a thousand knives but I know that it is not true. Her eyes had cut deeper then any word could ever, and now it bore deep within my conscious that the last look in those eyes had been of my doing. That last look of hers that I had seen within my minds eye sent such utter feelings of guilt into my soul that, for the past four hours, I had not dared to close my eyes for fear that I would see hers again.
But I didn’t care, I wasted away with every second that passed, soon I would be gone from the world. I turned back to my own thoughts for a moment; then something pierced through the static of the TV. It was the sounds of sirens: each note shattering my musings in the dark. Slowly, using what little strength remained in me, I rose and half crawled, half walked to the door. I opened the door and blinking came into the sunlight. Two floors below me were parked a dozen cars and the policemen were already out; some held their weapons pointed at me while others ran towards the flight of stairs to the left. Why did they seem to be looking for a criminal? I was no criminal. Then I thought of the neighbor’s apartment, yes I knew he was into drug dealings of some sort. Then there was the fact that I was only wearing a shirt and was bleeding profusely… it could be that too.
But what it was I never knew for, as the policemen had finished coming to the second floor I became too weak to stand and fell over the metal railing that I had held on for support. It did not take me long to fall, but as I did, I my mind wandered to her body that lay in a pool of blood behind the sofa. I remembered the four knife stabs, each of them to her heart as her words and eyes had stabbed mine. What would the cops think of her? I wondered, but it didn’t matter. I had killed myself to pay back the deed that my level of madness had forced me to undertake. Then came the impact of my body upon the concrete and the onset of darkness; I shut my eyes and, with my last breath, forced a small smile across my face. I no longer saw her eyes haunting my soul; my conscious had been redeemed!
Now I lay in darkness, a putrid odor within the room and grime soaking my muscle shirt. I felt tiny beads of sweat form atop my brow and trickle down into my eyes. I did not care for the stinging they brought, I had sat upon that dilapidated sofa for the past four hours, never had gotten up to put my boxers back on, never even cared for a drink of water as I sat there. My eyes were the only things I moved and these rolled slowly in a semi-conscious haze as I surveyed the apartment for the thousandth time. By the dim lighting of the early morning sunbeams through closed shutters, I could faintly distinguish the walls of the living room; the yellowish green paint had already begun to peal off in some places. The television was still on, though it only showed static and made little low crunching noises. Black’s starting to win this time. I thought, and it was good, white had been winning for the past 2 hours.
Somehow, that thought managed to force a half smile onto my face—my boredom had finally driven me mad. That’s why she had left me, I suppose, she said that she could not stand my boorishness and how I managed to turn nearly every happy memory into one that she had have would liked to forget. I didn’t try to make it that way, or, at least I think I tried. But how could I have known? Every time I was around her, she seemed interested in me and how I felt. She should have told me that she found my humor dull and my presence unpleasant. At least then I would have tried to change or, at least, backed off a little. But no she would never have told me, that’s one thing that I could have expected from her. Lying snake!
My eyes drifted again, this time to the side of the couch. There was a night table there, its corners bashed in and the top of it scratched so much one would think it was used to test knives on. Upon the table there lay a knife, red with blood. Something red and watery trickled slowly down both my thighs to sink into the space of the couch between my legs. I looked at my wrists: both had deep slashes from where the blood flowed. You did not do this to yourself. You would never had thought of committing such a deed. These words were true though, or at least in my mind they were. I would never have thought of committing suicide. She had cut my wrists; I could vaguely remember it: the wicked look on her face, the evil glare within her eyes… the cold laughter that followed when the deed was done. She had cut me, that I was sure of, but what had happened afterwards, I couldn’t recall.
Oh, but she did not cut me with the knife… No, that would have been too easy, too painless a death for her to contrive. She did it with her mouth: through each of those words that cut me deeper then any knife had ever could. And then there was her eyes, the look within them entreated me to do what I had just done. Yes, I do believe that I saw the wicked look in her eyes: those two grim spheres of grey that twinkled with an incessant evil. Those two eyes of wonder that had once entreated me to take them and their owners ears into confidence and that had haunted so cruelly once my confidence was betrayed. Oh, but it was good that they did not laugh anymore; their owner was gone, and I would soon be as well. My leaving would be slightly different then hers, but at least I did not have to fear those eyes anymore. They say that words cut deeper then a thousand knives but I know that it is not true. Her eyes had cut deeper then any word could ever, and now it bore deep within my conscious that the last look in those eyes had been of my doing. That last look of hers that I had seen within my minds eye sent such utter feelings of guilt into my soul that, for the past four hours, I had not dared to close my eyes for fear that I would see hers again.
But I didn’t care, I wasted away with every second that passed, soon I would be gone from the world. I turned back to my own thoughts for a moment; then something pierced through the static of the TV. It was the sounds of sirens: each note shattering my musings in the dark. Slowly, using what little strength remained in me, I rose and half crawled, half walked to the door. I opened the door and blinking came into the sunlight. Two floors below me were parked a dozen cars and the policemen were already out; some held their weapons pointed at me while others ran towards the flight of stairs to the left. Why did they seem to be looking for a criminal? I was no criminal. Then I thought of the neighbor’s apartment, yes I knew he was into drug dealings of some sort. Then there was the fact that I was only wearing a shirt and was bleeding profusely… it could be that too.
But what it was I never knew for, as the policemen had finished coming to the second floor I became too weak to stand and fell over the metal railing that I had held on for support. It did not take me long to fall, but as I did, I my mind wandered to her body that lay in a pool of blood behind the sofa. I remembered the four knife stabs, each of them to her heart as her words and eyes had stabbed mine. What would the cops think of her? I wondered, but it didn’t matter. I had killed myself to pay back the deed that my level of madness had forced me to undertake. Then came the impact of my body upon the concrete and the onset of darkness; I shut my eyes and, with my last breath, forced a small smile across my face. I no longer saw her eyes haunting my soul; my conscious had been redeemed!
posted by thisisme | 5:34 PM
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