My mother has always told me that I have my fathers eyes. I take this compliment with grace, as I pride myself in my eyes. They are a deep shade of emerald green that when hit with the perfect amount of sunlight, reflects back a golden tint.
I never knew my father, for he abandoned my mom and I when I was only a few months old. It made me happy knowing that I was able to carry at least a little bit of him with me. I knew the absence of my father weighed hard on my mother, but she worked very hard to fill both parental roles for me. She was often very stern, but I could easily bend her will by batting my eyes. She would normally laugh before saying “You know, that’s the same thing your father used to do when he wanted his way.” Her smile would soon fade as I’m sure she often thought of my estranged father.
One thing about my mother though, was she had a strict lights out schedule, I couldn’t bat my eyes to get out of this one. At 8:00 pm, I were to be in bed with the lights off, awaiting my mother to come kiss my forehead and close the door behind her. We have had this routine for 15 years.
One night, at 8:00 pm, I lay in my bed, playing with my pet cat, awaiting my mother. She comes in, kisses me, and ushers my cat out the door before exiting my room. It was a normal night.
Around 1:00 am though, I began to hear what sounds like muffled crying coming from below my bedroom. My eyes feel as though they are on fire. I run to my light switch, flipping it on to see my once green eyes red and bloodshot as if they had been crying for hours. That’s when I noticed I could still hear the muffled crying from under my bedroom.
I debated my actions. Should I leave my room against my mothers rules? What if there was an intruder? What if my mom was hurt?
Reluctantly, I opened my bedroom door and crept silently down the hall to find our basement door open, the sound of the crying growing louder. I could hear my mothers voice as well. I crept slowly downstairs one at a time. I finally get to the point where light shines and I see a man strapped to a chair, his head hung low in defeat. I nearly gasped in horror as I saw my mother standing near a sharp set of medical tools.
“Stop your crying.” She said. The man’s whimpers quieted, but not enough to her liking. My mother slams a scalpel onto the table. “I said, STOP. CRYING.”
The man instantly stopped, his shoulders still heaving from his heavy breathing. I then see my cat push herself against the man’s leg.
“Keep it up.” My mother said. “Soon, the cat is gonna have your tongue.”
Something inside me told me that she didn’t mean metaphorically. My mother must’ve felt my eyes piercing into the back of her head because she turned around with such swiftness that I didn’t even have time to duck back into the cover of darkness.
Her eyes met mine and I felt my heart beat quicker and quicker until I felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. My skin grew hot as I felt beads of sweat form across the back of my neck. My throat so dry, it was as if someone had taken sandpaper to it.
My mothers gaze switched from menacing to the loving, motherly look I’d known my whole life.
“Darling, come down. I feel as though this introduction is a bit late anyways.” She smiled extending a white gloved hand to me. I stepped closer to her, and closer to the man in the chair.
My mother placed her hands on my shoulders as the man in the chair lifted his head to reveal two hollow eye sockets. “I told you that you have your fathers eyes.” My mother whispered.