One-shot

Secret Within the Hazel Eyes

One rainy evening I sat beneath the gazebo in my backyard glaring at the drenched people hurrying to get out of the heavy rain. Quite a few odd people went by as I slowly sipped my tea. Some chasing their umbrellas, some walking in regular spring clothes. Out of all the people who walked by, I noticed a young disturbed girl walking by soaking wet, not a bit of dry clothing on her body. Every now and then she would drop her purse, or slip in deep puddles. As she approached my end of the block I noticed her physical features even more clearly. She had fresh scars and cuts on her neck and arm. The drizzle was washing the blood away as she kept wiping her eyes, softly sniffing. I couldn't help but assist the poor girl so I took my last sip of tea, grabbed my rain coat and hurried towards her without realizing I just tipped my chair over. As I advanced towards her she realized a strange figure in the dark so she jumped back in panic. The look of fright in her beautiful dilated hazel eyes was simply saddening. I just kept thinking, I know those eyes such beautiful eyes would kill me one day. I held onto her arm to provide comfort and assisted her to come into the house to avoid the rain.

When we entered the house, I sat her down on the sofa and fetched a towel for her. As she dried her hair I got some dry clothing for her to switch into. Instead of detecting a sign of appreciation I noticed a look of fear, as she would twitch at every movement of my own. She had not spoken a single word the entire time, knowing she wasn't going to anytime soon, without asking her I went into the kitchen and made a hot cup of tea for her. The entire time I kept my eye on her since she was a complete stranger for me as well. I found something odd about those observant eyes of hers looking around my entire living room as if she was in search of something. As I handed the cup of tea to her she uttered her first words to me, "thank you". She had an unusual sweetness in her voice, and I was not even able to say your welcome because of her voice still echoing in my mind. Strangely she didn't make any attempt to make eye contact or even ask a single question, maybe about why I decided to assist her. The silence was brutal, it seemed as if it weren't raining, rather someone was pounding on my roof. However, I knew in this case total cooperation was vital.

Minutes after it seemed as if she was about to fall asleep in the position she was sitting in. So I asked her if she'd like to go to sleep upstairs and I'd wake her up in the morning. She responded with a faint nod and a devilish smirk. For the first time during the entire night I saw her face lighten up. I sent her to my room to rest on my king sized waterbed and I came back downstairs to watch some television. I turned on the news and I saw the most shocking news bulletin in my entire life. It was a picture of the girl who was in my house, wanted for the murder of her fiancée. I went pale and all I could remember were those fresh cuts on her smooth skin. According to the news, she stabbed the man 7 times even though he was supposedly dead after the 4th stab said the forensic specialists. In the picture on the news, she seemed a little paler whereas she had an amazing tan when she entered the house. I was amazed to see such beauty without the assistance of any makeup. And I was even more surprised to see a girl who looks so innocent could be capable of committing such a crime.

When I got out of my comma I jumped off of my sofa and hurried to check up on the mysterious guest of mine. A sense of immense fear rose up within me as I went up the stairs. I tiptoed up the stairs but the old wooden stairs would still create a racket. With every creak of the stairs that could be heard by the neighbors, a chill went down my spine. I never before had a problem with creaking stairs before since I lived alone. However, right now I wasn't as worried about the creaking as much as I was worried about my racing heartbeats, which could be heard from two blocks over. I had trouble with opening the door of the room because of my sweaty palms so I had to use my shirt to open the door. I flicked the light switch and as the light opened I felt as if my heart just sunk to the bottom of my stomach because the girl was no longer there.

With no other option, I began to panic and I knew she was still inside the house because the window in that room was jammed shut and there was no way such a frail girl could open it. Then all of a sudden I heard clanging from my kitchen so I rushed down to confront her. When I got there she was no longer in the kitchen but there were a bunch of dinner utensils lying on floor, mainly knives. I felt a piercing sensation on my neck but didn't know what it was. As I put my hand on my neck it was covered in blood stinging, and rolling down my back. I could feel my undershirt being completely wet and when I turned around she was standing before me holding a large meat-cutting knife. That beautiful girl took form of a mad woman, but those hazel eyes of hers were more mesmerizing than ever before. Once again I quoted in my mind "I know those eyes will kill me one day". I snapped out of my trance when she pounced on me with the knife, I was able to hold her hand back but she still withdrew the knife from her hand sinking into my chest slowly. My dark thick blood was gushing out and flew onto her face. Her old blue nail polish was no longer visible since her nails had a new color on them, blood red. It was quite peculiar how I didn't see a sign of disgust on her face, rather a sign of content and satisfaction, which I only saw for a moment as my view was slowly fading away.

Days later, I regained consciousness in a local hospital in the city of Oshawa, Ontario. I never had been more confused in my entire life, and I wasn't able to ask either because of all the swarming media figures. I never found out what happened during those three long gruesome days. What I did know was, Stephanie McNeil was captured and held in a high security twilight prison in Calgary. She was recognized to have the mentality of a serial killer. After a few weeks I was discharged and began to lead my regular old life except for one thing. It was the end of my athletic career and so I had to tear up my acceptance to Wimbledon next year. Who could have imagined such an event to take place at 2 in the morning, because I surely didn't. However, I can't ever stop thinking of those hazel eyes that were a mask of a serial killer. And like I always used to say, "one day those hazel eyes will surely kill me", and sadly it almost proved to be right ……

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