Hundreds of different eyes.
Lonely eyes. Sad, unaware, confused, misty, murderous, spiteful, devilish eyes. Empty eyes. All of them staring right at me. They seem to be looking through my very soul, penetrating my inmost being with every look of disgust, hatred, and hopelessness, asking without a hint of irony: “Why?”. Each pair once belonged to a person. A victim. A victim of my insatiable curiosity. A lustful musing on the unanswered. “What happens after?”
The first pair came from a drunk man in the streets. As I slashed his throat mercilessly. All the blood dripping from that irreversible wound, a metallic tang of aroma coupled with the sulfurous stench from the alcohol. As I held his body tightly and listened to his moan of pain. Drenched in his blood, sheathing the very knife I used to kill him, I looked straight into his eyes. Those confused black eyes seem to mock me, as if they didn’t know what’s happening. But the truth is it was in front of him – in plain sight. He was dying. I stood, waiting for something. Something seemingly incomprehensible. Something to fulfill my unanswered wish – to know: “What happens after?”
The second pair came from a little girl. Those hazel brown eyes belonged to a girl playing on the street in front of her house. Her parents were gone that time. They were not there that time when I called her and invited her for a snack. Such a foolish child to accept an offer from a complete stranger. As I dozed her with enough morphine to knock her out. As I dragged a brown sack in the middle of the woods and hang it in the branch of a leafless tree. As I smacked that sack with a metal bat. At first there came no sound. But soon a voice rang out. A voice of suffering, a voice of pain. I beat the sack again and again until the sound faded into hoarse whimpers of desperation. The bottom of the sack now dripping with crimson blood that glows with the light of the moon. Lowering and untying the sack, removing that little girl inside, I looked straight into her eyes. Those empty hazel brown eyes seem to insult my efforts to see something unseen before. The eyes of that breathless girl revealed nothing I want – to see: “What happens after?”
The third pair. Bright blue eyes, as blue as the sky. Full of hope, concern, warmth, and love. They belonged to a mother of four lovely children and a wife to a loving husband. She was out buying groceries for her hungry little ones. As I dragged an innocent, unconscious mother to a nearby pond. As I dipped her head in the cool murky water, she woke and tried to break free. But I was too strong for her. She struggled and strained as I kept her head submerged in the water. As I drowned her, the bubbling water seem to agitate more and more until it came to a point where the bubbling ripples subsided. When I felt that she was nearly dead I lifted her head and looked straight into her eyes. Those angry, vengeful, bright blue eyes seem to taunt me with a threat that can never be realized. I pushed her head back into the pond. This time I was sure I will get my answer. I lifted her head once more and saw nothing but lonely, lifeless eyes. Those eyes taunted me even more, never showing what I want – to witness: “What happens after?”
(…) So it continued …
Hundreds of different eyes.
I didn’t do it because I was hungry for blood! But for something far more… interesting. Now all those eyes screamed “Why?” all at once. Their silent noise puncturing my flesh, vibrating to my very bones. Each pair once belonged to a person. A victim. A victim of my insatiable curiosity.
“STOP!” I yelled.
The voices vanished but the eyes never disappeared. I now know they will not go away. They will be with me till the end.
Empty eyes that never gave me a reason to stop. Never gave me an answer. Eyes that never granted my request – to experience: “WHAT HAPPENS AFTER?”.