Last year, I lost my eye in a car accident. I was devastated, and I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror without crying. That all changed when I got my prosthetic eye. It didn’t make me feel better about my appearance. If you took a long look at me, you would know it was fake. But the second l saw myself with it, I realized all the brand new opportunities.
It started with stupid, small stuff. If I made quick eye contact with someone, I would wait until they looked away. Then I would pop my eye out, and stare at them. The next time they glanced my way, they were met with my gaping eye socket.
The reactions I got were priceless. At a burger joint, the man I did it to almost choked on his french fry. The old woman in my doctor’s waiting room fell out of her seat. The best by far was when I was stuck in gridlock. The car next to me had their windows open. When the passenger saw me, she jolted so hard that her coffee splashed all over the windshield.
I knew I was being a dick, but it was nice to have some human interaction. Even if it was negative. My girlfriend didn’t survive the accident, and all our friends started to avoid me after the funeral. It was like they thought car crashes were contagious.
It hurt, and I’m still angry about it. But I don’t hate them for it. Who wants to hang around the one-eyed sad sack? I tried to make new friends, but whenever I felt their gaze rest on my missing eye, I burst into tears. I couldn’t bear to be looked at like that, so I settled with scaring strangers. Anything was better than sitting alone in my house.
Of course, I got tired of it after a while. Startling people wasn’t enough anymore. I needed a bigger reaction, so I bought some blood packets off Amazon. The kind they use in movies. I couldn’t pull this stunt in places I frequented. Whenever I couldn’t stop thinking about Mary, I would google buildings with elevators in them.
I would enter a crowded elevator. The second the doors closed I would grip my eye and start grimacing. Once I got my prosthetic out, I moaned and cried. When I was sure I had everyone’s attention, I squeezed the blood packet in my hand. Then I would start screaming while holding out my bloody “eye”.
I got the reactions I was looking for. There was always yelling and cursing. One time a man fainted. Another time a woman vomited. There was usually a person that tried to call 911, which meant I had to run as soon as the elevator doors opened. Though sometimes, people would figure out I was faking, and then I had to run for a completely different reason.
I had no intention of stopping, until I met him. He was standing by himself in an elevator. This didn’t stop me, because I figured one reaction was better than none. Once the doors closed, I started my usual act. But he just stared at me. When I escalated to screaming and blood packet popping, he just smiled. Like he was getting off on it.
Suddenly, he grabbed the hand my bloody “eye” was in. Then he said, “You have the most beautiful screams I’ve ever heard. I can’t wait to hear more of them.”
I pushed him away and pressed my back into the elevator doors. He kept staring at me with that disgusting grin on his face. I realized I didn’t have my prosthetic in my hand anymore, so I glanced at the ground. His eyes followed mine, and he found it first. He picked it up to examine it.
His expression morphed from glee to pure rage. I thought he was going to lunge at me, and I put my hands over my face. But then, the elevator doors opened and I fell backwards. I jumped back up, and ran. I never looked back to see if he was following me.
When I got home, my back ached from my fall while my legs were screaming from running down four flights of stairs. As I washed the fake blood off my face and hand, I couldn’t shake the feelings of shame. I knew if Mary ever saw me like this, she would be ashamed. If she had lived instead of me, I was sure she wouldn’t be wasting her life by endangering herself with ridiculous stunts. She could have made a dozen new friends without even trying. She wouldn’t constantly cry about stupid shit. I slept on her side of the bed that night.
The next morning, I was drinking my morning coffee by my kitchen window. I noticed a car I had never seen before parked across the street. At first, I tried to tell myself that my neighbor just had a visitor, but that delusion fell to pieces when the window of the car rolled down. It was the man from the elevator. He gave a quick wave, and then held up my prosthetic with his other hand. I closed my curtains after that.
At first, I was frozen. I wanted to do a thousand different things at once, but my body wouldn’t move. I considered just getting it over with, and meeting my fate head on. But the second I peeked out the curtains, I realized all the brand new opportunities.
I spent the entire rest of the day shopping for the supplies I needed. He was on my tail the entire time, but I didn’t mind. It was more convenient for me to know where he was anyway. Though, I was surprised he never caught on to what my supplies were for.
I triple checked my locks that night, because I couldn’t risk him interrupting before I was ready. I had a feeling he wouldn’t try that night. He seemed like the type to play with his food, but better safe than sorry.
I worked through the entire night and most of the next day. Despite the grueling schedule, I was happy with my speed. You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to soundproof a basement. Honestly, setting up the cot and detangling the chains was more of a headache.
It will all be worth it after tonight. I’m going to leave my door unlocked, since I’m sure my new house guest is tired of waiting. I’m dreading the struggle, but I’m not too worried. A sledgehammer always wins over a knee. I know Mary wouldn’t approve, but anything is better than sitting alone in this house.