I slam the car door shut.
Michael clampers onto the seat next to me, feeling around for his seat belt. Blood drips from his eyes down his cheeks. I take my keys out of my pocket and thrust them into the ignition.
The car splutters to a start. I turn to Michael, reaching over him and grabbing his seatbelt before clipping it in.
“Michael,” I say, “Hold on.”
“I’ll hold on…” he quietly says, a tremble in his voice. I flick the car headlights on.
Harry stands right in front of the car, now illuminated by the headlights. He’s clutching the blood-stained scissors in his right hand, staring right through the car windshield. I freeze.
Harry stares at Michael, confused. He slowly tilts his head to the right, then the left. The look of confusion on his face grows. Then, suddenly, as if he loses sight of Michael, Harry’s green eyes flutter and blink, before they dart to look at me. I squeeze my eyes shut.
A long, low croak rings through the air. It starts quiet, but gets progressively louder. I open my eyes, and see Harry pointing toward me, his mouth open wide as he emits the low moan. I flick the car into first gear, and press hard on the accelerator, driving into Harry at such a force that it propels him into the air and over the back of the car.
Michael whimpers as I start to drive away from the care home. I look over to him, grimacing as I once again see the gashes left where his eyes once were. Blood covers his pyjama t-shirt, spreading down his boxers and bare legs. He’s clutching something – a piece of paper.
“Michael”, I say, “what is that you’re holding?”
Just as I ask, a ghastly screech fills the night air. It comes from behind us, from the care home. I look in the rear view mirror. In it, I see the dim outline of the home, getting ever further in the distance. I turn my eyes back to Michael, who still grips the paper, then back to the road.
“Michael”, I pant, “can you speak to me? You said you knew what was happening!”
“No!”, Michael exclaims, “I didn’t say that. I said I know it’s the lady that’s doing this. The woman in room one.”
I glance in the rear-view mirror once more, the road between us and the nursing home has grown, the home now a blip in the distance. I gently press on the brake pedal until the car comes to a stop, and turn my attention to Michael once more. His grip around the paper is tight, but as I begin to take it off of him, it loosens.
I hold the paper in front of me – it’s the same paper I had found earlier, the patient file for the woman in room 1. Except now, I can clearly read it.
Her name is Anna Fletcher, as I glance to the small, black and white photo which is so clearly the woman in room 1. Her photo stares back at me lifelessly; despite the lack of colour I can somehow make out her green eyes. I read on.
1898.
That must be wrong. It states here that she was checked into the home in 1898. That can’t be right. That’s over one hundred years ago. I read further.
‘Anna has come to us following complaints from the Church, which she has served for the majority of her adult life. Churchgoers have started to notice changes in her as she has aged, both physical and mental changes. As Anna’s sight began to deteriorate, she has become excessively jealous of those who still possess their sight, obsessively accusing them of ‘stealing her eyes’ from her. Due to a lack of family and of support, it is of the care home’s opinion that Anna, or Mother Anna, as she is widely known to the community, reside here for the remainder of her life or unless her condition, both mental and physical, drastically improves.’
Mother Anna. The name of the care home - Care of Mother Anna Nursing Home.
“She’s- ” I begin before Michael interrupts me.
“She’s Mother Anna. It’s her.”
I continue to read.
‘1900 – Since Anna has come to us, her condition has greatly improved. She appears more full of life and in a better state of mind. However, the biggest revelation and shock is the gradual return of her eyesight. It appears that she is quickly regaining her ability to see. However, it is of the care home’s belief that Anna has spread her past ideologies onto the other residents, as they have began to claim they cannot see, and are blaming Anna for their loss in sight’.
Suddenly, Michael begins to violently shake. His head bangs on the headrest of his seat as droplets of blood flicker from his face onto mine. He’s having a seizure, I suspect from his injuries, I need to get him to the hospital.
I put Anna’s patient file down, and turn my attention to the road once more.
And I can see her.
I can see Anna, standing; no, floating, toward me from the darkness ahead. Her long, broken strands of hair float in the air as if through water. Her expressionless face illuminates from the shadows of the night as it gently floats closer to me, becoming clearer every second. The shimmer of her green eyes have locked into mine. Her eyes are so beautiful. I wish them to be mine. I am jealous that they are not.
They can be yours.
The voice of an old woman croaks through my head.
They can be yours, Olivia.
My eyes are changing now. I feel they are opening, wider than I’ve ever opened them before. I can see so clearly now. I can see Anna’s beauty. That’s all I can see.
Her voice deepens.
Your eyes are becoming so beautiful, child.
My hands reach toward the ignition, I feel the keys to the car on my fingertips.
Your eyes are opening.
I grasp the keys as my eyes stay locked with Anna’s. I grasp the keys tight.
You don’t need to be jealous anymore, child.
The dancing shades of green seem to leap from Anna’s eyes, through the night sky and into mine. I pull the keys from the ignition.
I am here.
I hold the keys tight before thrusting one into my right eye. A surge of pain shoots through my body, and I feel Anna’s grip loosen. But she still has me. Blood pours from my eye as I yank the key out and half of my world plunges into a deep dark.
I am still here, Olivia.
I drive the same key into my right eye. I am plunged into darkness.
But I am saved from the green-eyed monster.
-
Beeping, beeping, beeping, all I hear is bloody beeping.
I’ve been in hospital for a number of days now, I don’t know how many, strapped into this wheelchair. I’ve completely lost track of time. I just sit in my darkness, reliving the events of that night.
Nobody believes me. The doctors think I’m crazy. It’s all in the news, some people think I had something to do with the horrors that occurred at the nursing home, some people think I’m an innocent victim who’s lost her mind having witnessed them. But nobody believes me, nobody believes the truth.
Michael was dead by my side when they found me in the car that night. Once I had pierced my eyes, all the noise, the chaos, everything stopped. Her voice in my head disappeared, the power I felt from her, all gone in an instant.
The rest of the residents were found dead, except for Anna. Except the woman in room 1. There’s now a manhunt on, the authorities trying to find her, trying to find this poor helpless woman.
‘Elderly white female, frail, grey hair and green eyes’ is the description of her that’s being spread in the news.
Green eyes…
I’m still being treated in the hospital, but from what I understand I’ll be transferred to a ‘secure facility’, in other words, a mental asylum. Some place run by a company called ‘MedVars’. But, for now, I’m sharing a room with a nice enough, elderly sounding lady. She chats about her injury to me, but I don’t bother about speaking to her about mine. She’s in with a doctor at the moment, murmuring to him about pain medications.
“That should be you sorted”, I hear the voice of a male doctor. The kind and elderly woman thanks him and I hear him leave the room.
“They never do get the medication right the first time”, the elderly woman exclaims, “the only thing that’s keeping me sane in here is that doctor! He’s incredibly handsome!”
“Yeah?” I ask with a slight chuckle, “describe him to me”.
“Well, he’s tall, has a lovely jawline, dark brown hair”, she starts, “but what draws me in is his eyes. They seem to, well, dance!”
I stay silent for a moment, gulp, then gather my composure to ask, “His eyes?”
“Well yes,” she laughs, “they dance around the room! They swirl around and absorb anything that they touch! They’re so beautiful and I wish they were mine! I wish they were everybody’s! Oh, how I wish you could see them! They’re the brightest shade of green, you see!”
The door opens and someone begins to wheel my chair out of the room.
“If you could see them you could understand!” the elderly woman loudly chants, “you’d understand their beauty! You would be able to see their beauty!”
“No- ” I stammer, “wait!”
“But then again,” I hear the elderly woman speak, her voice distorted, “you can’t see. Can you?”
“Stop!” I shout, not knowing where I was going or who was wheeling my chair, “Don’t look at their eyes! Stop!”
I hear the elderly woman laughing in the distance as I’m wheeled away.
-
“That’s the woman just checked out of room 1!” I hear a nurse shout, as I leave the hospital screaming.