The Eyes | Teen Ink

The Eyes

June 15, 2017
By Anonymous

The Eyes
I wasn’t supposed to be there?if only I hadn’t been there. That night I had risen from my plush sofa throne and dragged my feet along the hardwood floor as I headed towards the wooden door. With each step I let my body roll through the halls like a cloud of smoke. Once I reached the intricately carved wooden door, I reached my pale boney fingers out and yanked on the door with all of my might. This urgent need to be outside had washed over me like a wave of panic. It was dark out and I just needed to inhale the dark summer air, I needed to swallow something outside of my artificially filtered prison. I felt my body moving; I wasn’t in command of myself anymore. I moved towards the center of my yard in between all of the flower beds and violently threw myself against the damp and prickly grass. I closed my eyes to take everything in: the support the earth gave my body, the grass struggling to remain erect against my gangly limbs, and the humidity in the air causing my lungs to feel moist and heavy. I don’t know how long I laid there listening to the symphony around me, but it felt like an eternity. I was no longer assaulted with the flashing lights of the television taunting my tired eyes, no longer forcing my brain into silence. I felt like my mind was a timid animal in a cage and for the first time ever I unhinged the latch. It was shy at first, afraid that this was a false sense of freedom, but as it slowly slithered itself out of the technological prison I kept it in, I felt ethereal. My mind was dancing, everywhere it went bright colors adorned the world. My memories had never been so vivid, my heart had never felt so weightless, I had never felt so alive. I wasn’t supposed to be there. When I could no longer keep my eyes closed I pried opened my eyelids expecting to see the eyes of the night sky, expecting to immortalize the sparking gaseous masses so many millions of miles away. That night I did not take in the beauty of the night’s eyes, I opened my eyes only to find the eyes of another.
Two anothers actually. These pairs of eyes peered at me without emotion, without light. The almost grey blue and even duller green did not shine brightly, I only know their color because the whites of their eyes were being contrasted against total darkness. These eyes looked barely human, there were no flecks of varying shades of green or blue, not even a hint of brown in their pupils. Each iris was identical to its partner, there was not a drop of life to be found anywhere in those matte saucers. These eyes had nothing unique about them, which I guess is what made them so haunting. These eyes looked down upon me and I knew. I wasn't supposed to be there. I stared at these eyes for as long as I could, taking in every detail possible because I had an eerie feeling that these eyes would be my demise. The eyes loomed over me like hawks over their prey. These eyes had hands too, four total, and the eyes with hands grabbed me with a strength I wasn’t prepared for. The eyes with hands ripped me up from my dew tained oasis, and then it went black.

???

My eyes never met the sky’s that night. Now I am constantly forced into a state of low visibility, unnecessary discomfort?well on my way to yet another chemically induced nap. I’m in some artificially lit, chemical soaked, falsely advertised building they call Rehab. I woke up in this horrible prison where they smile at you like you’re five and they make you talk about your “truth”, but only if your “truth” is what they want to hear. They think I’m crazy when I talk about the 4 eyes that took me away that night, but I know what happened. For the first time in a very long time my mind was clear, and I know what I saw with a stronger sense of conviction than I have ever experienced. My issue isn’t that I was hallucinating, my issue is that my eyes are never where they’re supposed to be. I wasn’t supposed to be there and I am not supposed to be here. I keep trying to explain that to the doctors, but they don’t see me as a person, but rather as a puzzle to solve. They see me as another casefile to be cracked open and made “normal” again. I’ve asked to see my family, but they won’t let them visit because I am in a “compromisable mental state”. The only mental state I am in is one of complete clarity. I often wonder how I got here and what happened, but what it is more import is that I wasn’t supposed to be there and those eyes weren’t supposed to be there either. It is just a matter of getting out of here and finding the eyes that have haunted me everytime I close my own. The real adventure begins when I get out of here and I’m breaking out tonight.


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