My name is Joseph Santoy, and I am an orphan. I live in a place where the sun never shines, with only one visitor, a man. He is my "guardian". I don't really remember who my mom was, and sometimes I wonder if the man really was my dad. Dads are supposed to be nice to you. My dad never told me his name. He doesn't tell anyone his name, ever.
My dad has green eyes, that actually glow in the dark. He is a very tall, slender man, with broad shoulders. He has jet-black hair, always combed to one side. His pale face sometimes makes him look like a ghost, with a handsome face.
And then there's me. Bruises all over my face and arms, and messed up brown hair. I haven't taken a shower in a long time.
I spend most of my time reading the books that the Man gives me, although I fall asleep before I really finish anything. There is a strange thing about those books though. Everyday the Man gets me one new book, with a tag stuck to the cover. The last time I had checked the number, it said 8. Before that it was 9, and then 10, and then 11, and so on. I don't really pay much attention to that.
Every evening, I would be napping. Then the Man would walk into my stone room and throw rocks at me to wake me up. He would say "Little boy, won't you play with me?" over and over again. This continued for 10 years. When I was really little I used to cry, and then shut up when he didn't stop. Now, when I woke up, we just talked. He would ask me what I read about, and I would tell him. I haven't really been to school, so I have trouble talking to people.
In my room, there were two doors. One lead to a dark hallway, and one lead to an ascending staircase. I wasn't allowed to touch any doors. The Man walked in and out of these doors all day. Every time the Man opened the door to the hallway, I tried to peek inside. But he is very swift and closes the door before I can even sit up right.
Every night I get a plate of food, with a glass of red stuff. I think it's expired fruit punch, because it kind of tastes like metal. But i'm too scared to tell the Man that myself.
The food is usually meat. I don't really like it much, but then again, I don't have a choice. When I cut it, red liquid oozes out. It tastes just like the juice.
YOU ARE READING
Green Eyes
HorrorI stood in my dim room. Rock. Ouch. Another Rock. Ouch again. My arms dangling lifelessly off my sides, my legs stuck to the floor, my head pounding as the green-eyed man spoke to me in his torturing voice. "Won't you play with me today?"
