"It was his eyes, Oh my God!"

I open my eyes and fight off a wave of confusion. In front of me is a blank, cream colored wall that I don't recognize.

Where am I?

I stare at it for a long time as if waiting for answers to magically appear like a teacher writing them on a chalkboard. The longer I wait the less likely it seems. The walls continue to stay blank but something does happen. I see eyes. I turn to the right and there they are. Eyes staring at me. Not helpful eyes, not concerned eyes, piercing eyes. Eyes that accuse. Eyes that say, 'Why are you here?'

I really wish I knew.

I would feel self conscious with these eyes boring into me, but I can't remember what they think I've done, if anything.

"Well...?" the accusing eyes say.

"Well what?" I rebut.

"Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"About what?"

The accusing eyes turn into angry eyes.

"You know damn well what!"

He throws pictures on the table, one by one. Each is another person, or what is left of a person. They have all been horribly mutilated.
My blank eyes turn from the images and survey his mask of rage.

"I'm sorry."

"I knew it!" angry eyes turn to triumphant eyes.

"Wait a minute," says another, this one with compassionate eyes. "Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry that I don't know."

Triumphant eyes transform into unbelieving eyes.

"You're lying!" says unbelieving eyes.

"We don't know that," says compassionate eyes.

He turns his eyes on me.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

I struggle with my addled mind.

"Laying in bed, I think."

"Bullshit!" screams unbelieving eyes. "Don't tell me you don't remember anything."

"No, I remember something."

"Okay, what?"

"Lying in bed."

Unbelieving eyes ignite with flames of rage. They rise up, glaring down at me.

"You won't get away with this. I won't let you!"

"Let's calm down a bit," says compassionate eyes.

"Calm down? This piece of trash is trying to play a game and you want me to calm down?"

Eyes of rage claw at the table trying to reach me.

I don't think he wants to give me a hug.

Compassionate eyes grabs livid eyes, trying to keep him from gouging out my eyes.

"Officer!" he yells.

Bored eyes enter the room and quickly turn to anxious eyes.

"We're done here, take him back," compassionate eyes says, barely restraining livid eyes.

“You’ll never wash the blood off your hands!” livid eyes screams at me.

Anxious eyes unlocks my chains and helps me up. We quickly leave as compassionate eyes yells at livid eyes. As we leave I hear a loud slap of hand against face. I dare not turn to see who is on the receiving end. We trudge down a hallway as fast as my metal bonds will allow.

"What did you say to the detective?" asks anxious eyes.

"I told him I don't know."

Anxious eyes become curious eyes.

"Do you know?"

I turn to him with honest eyes.

"No."

He smiles with accepting eyes, and returns me to my cage. He releases my bonds of steel, and turns to go, pausing in front of my cage.

"Maybe someday it'll come back to you."

I smile with thankful eyes as he leaves to attend the others. I sit on my stained, worn out mattress, and pull out my stained, worn out Bible.

Matthew 6:22,23

“The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eye is good, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is evil, your whole body will be full of darkness. Therefore, if the light within you has turned into darkness, how great is that darkness!”

I put down my Bible and stride over to my sink. I turn on the water and scrub my hands, looking in the mirror. Honest eyes stare back at me. The corner of my mouth turns up as my eyes turn dark ...



Word count: 666