Chapter 1:
Hadley Archer
'It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
-Antoine de Saint-Exupery
My eyes flutter open when I hear the faint whimper of my mother in the back room. I lay there for a while, feeling a cold breeze coming from an open window; with its curtains flapping as eerie figures of the night. Suddenly, a cold hand brushes past my shoulder. I can tell it was my father. He has broad and strong hands, which I always thought were handsome. They travel through my hair and across my forehead. I quickly close my eyes, to hide the fact that I was awake. His fingers soon find my eyelids, brushing them ever so gently. He whispers into my ear, "I can't let them take your eyes, Lee. You are so young and you need to see the world." His last words are blurred from his sobs. I have never seen my dad cry before. I never thought a blind person would be able to cry so hard. I don't talk to him. I have nothing to say. So I just lay there and try to sleep so I could forget that I would turn out like him.
A few hours later, I wake up and walk into the kitchen. My mother hears my footsteps and welcomes me. "Good morning Hadley. What kind of breakfast do you want? I have pears and apples if you'd like. Here." She reaches for a orange, not being able to see which fruit was which.
"Thanks, mom," I say, understandingly. I take the orange and sit down. I stay there for a while looking around my kitchen for the last time. I see old and partially rusted pots and pans, the pile of dishes sitting unwashed, and a towel, used since I was seven, full of holes and tears caused from its use over the years. I love that towel. My hands start to shake and my stomach gurgles, so I put down the orange. I lie to my mother that I ate it, even though I threw it outside. I don't think I will be able to keep down any food today. It's the last time where I could see my house, my mother and father, and me. My thoughts race in my head and I need to lay down and rest.
I walk back into my room, but instead of sleeping I stare at myself in the mirror. My dark hairs stands out the most. At a dark color it has tinted red highlights. I tousle it gently. My long eyelashes then flutter to reveal my round eyes. I look into the iris, studying it; memorizing it. It has flecks of green but not enough to make it stand out. The color is mostly baby blue, but it sometimes has a darker look, almost like denim. I take a step back and look at my outfit for the last time. A tight black v-neck t-shirt with long bootcut jeans. I thought I dressed nicely, although no one cares about looks in the city of Amsterdam. They believe that love forms in the heart, and eyes are of no importance. That is why my father and mother are blind. That is why everyone over fifteen is blind. That is why I will be blind in five hours.