Black eyes were something she thought of when she thought of evil or death. He couldn't be dead. But his black eyes were doing nothing to persuade her otherwise.
She screamed for him, begged him to come back to her. He had promised, he had said he would be there when it was over.
He had lied. Now his eyes were as evil as they were dead. They had stolen the light that usually danced there and the smiles that creased his face.
She laid on his chest wishing for his warmth, but he was gone, and so was she.