Terror In Her Eyes

Terror In Her Eyes

They say that the window to a person’s soul is looking into his eyes. How true that statement is. I looked into the eyes of my cousin and I see emptiness. That’s because he has no soul. His soul left him ages ago as he lay in bed one night, lost and forlorn, as he mourned the death of his only child.

I don't remember how long he had lain in that bed neither speaking nor eating or even appear conscious for long periods. Everyone was so worried for him and suddenly one morning he just got up and went about his business like nothing ever happened. Everyone in the family was so relieved that he was over it and decided that life must go on. Everyone but me, that is. I couldn’t put a finger on it. I knew it was not normal to be in such deep despair and hurt to suddenly awaken back to normal life like waking up from a bad dream. Nobody in the family would entertain anything that was out of sync in his behaviour. They were just so thankful that he was moving on. After a while, I didn’t see any point in harping about abnormality and hoped that they were right and I was wrong.

Paul, my cousin, was in the construction business and he immersed into his business with gusto. His wife approved of it saying, “He ought to have something to take his mind off the terrible tragedy we have experienced.”

For about a year and a half things were beginning to be normal as time always dilutes our pain and our memories. But Paul’s behaviour always stayed in the back of my mind and my suspicions were raised further during a family gathering. Everyone was at the dinner fully absorbed in a family discussion. I was sitting across from Paul and by chance looked into his eyes. What I saw nearly chased the life out of me. Paul’s eyes were lifeless. It was like staring into the eyes of a corpse. No depth, no focus, no warmth, no soul. I can’t explain it but as a make-up artist for corpses I knew what dead people’s eyes look like.

At the time I just shook off what I saw and put it down to bringing my work home with me and didn’t think too much of it until one day about two months later when Paul’s wife pulled me aside during another family gathering.

“You’ve got to help me, Mia,” she pleaded. “something’s wrong with Paul.”

On questioning her I found out that Paul would disappear for hours between midnight and dawn. Where he was or where he went nobody knows and he’d appear always in time to go to work, fresh without any signs of what happened the night before. It had been happening for about a year. At first, she thought he wanted time alone to deal with his grief for their dead child but it was now coming to almost two years since. It was no use confronting him about it as he’d deny that he was any where but sleeping beside her all night.