Lights Out

Lights Out

A contest entry by Pacific Blue
Word Count: 372

I promised myself I wouldn't scream but I can cry. Tears mix with blood in my empty sockets as he plays near my face. One of my eyes in each of his hands, both still attached to my head by the optic nerve.

“Can you see it, doll?” He says and then giggles. “Is it like one of those old videocameras?”

He swivels the eyes around to look at this or that. It's giving me a serious headache. He turns the eyes to look at each other. Bloody white orbs with a small ring of brown. I watch them dilate and twitch. He squeezes them a little but I will not scream.

“You know what? These feel like grapes.”

These pressure gets worse and I wonder if they'll pop. I will not scream.

“I wonder if they taste like grapes?” He plops one in his mouth. I can feel the slimy warmth of his tongue as he rolls my eye around. I can feel the pressure of his teeth as he threatens to chew. The saliva brings refreshment to my hopelessly dry eyeball. Through my other eye, I see my optic nerve stringing from his lips like spaghetti. I will not scream.

He spits the eye out and it swings over to me and hangs down my cheek. I can see my right wrist through it, taped and chained to the chair I am trapped in. My other eye shows the man dancing a little before he grabs my free-hanging eye again.  He lifts them both up above my head.

“Aw. Don't look so sluggish.” He says and laughs madly. I will not scream.

He turns the eyes so I can look at myself. Pathetic, broken beaten. It's strange to see yourself like that. Almost as if you're looking at someone else but their pain is exactly where your pain is. They bleed exactly as you bleed. I feel attached to this stranger. I am sad that they will die.

I feel him tug on my eyes a little more. I will not scream.

“Get one last look.” He says.

I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream.

“Lights out.”

I scream.