Scribbles

No.07

He stood there, motionless in front of me, his eyes that used to be a deep brown were blazing red, his blonde hair was ruffling gently in the wind. I had that effect on people. I could change them with a single touch, I could change any part of them, to prove this point to myself I watched as the deep brown I once saw in his eyes spread slowly from the roots of his blonde hair, right to the tips. More often than not however, it will always be the eyes I change. I change the eyes so that I don't have to remember them, so that I don't have the look of their betrayal etched into my mind, haunting me until I am long gone from this forsaken world. I remember my first so very clearly, and I see them, every single  time I close my eyes. Pale green eyes, so soft and kind, they were surrounded by laugh lines and so full of hope. Hoping so desperately that I would not do what I did, but I did it anyway, I let him down. He was so beautiful and he was mine, he had given his heart completely to me, and, I let him down. Now, look at me, I'm standing here, turning this man's brown eyes a fiery red, turning his blonde hair brown purely to prove to myself that I can. Shock and betrayal etched permanently on his face, one hand around his throat, the other holding a knife tightly, pressing into his chest, poking a hole into his shirt and, my mind is flooded with pale green eyes, drowning in dying hope. For a moment I falter, my grip on both his throat and the knife lessen slightly, tears stung my eyes at the memories of the man I loved, but only for a second, long enough for the man to blink twice. Then, I choke back the tears and internally composed myself before I plunged my knife into the chest of the blonde, no brown-haired man, lowered him slowly to the ground, closed his eyes and walked away. Just like I did the first time, when I did this to him. When I let him down. I walked away, just like I did when the man I loved, was the first to die at my hand.