His Eyes
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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Apr 26, 2015
Prologue "Please don't hurt me," I whimpered taking a careful step back with my killer in pursuit. "Oh, I won't hurt you," my attacker chuckled darkly as he pulled his black hoodie down to reveal the familiar swirl of chocolate colored hair that I used to run my fingers through as he laid his head in my lap. It was then that I knew I was very wrong about him and because of that I might lose my life. "Just let me go, you don't want to do this" I pleaded with him. "Oh, but I do," and with that being said he jumped forward and everything went dark.
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December twentieth is the day I remember being brought into the asylum for the first time. Like any typical psychopath, I screamed. I cried. I remember snatching the nurse's hair until she screamed and I was slapped into unconsciousness and thrown into the room. The only difference? I wasn't a psychopath. For the first few days, I would cry maniacally upon hearing any nurse go by, to catch one's attention and tell her that I wasn't insane. "That's exactly what an insane person would say" They said, unbothered and it was as if my fate rested in the mouldy walls of the Asylum. And I soon realized that there was no use fighting for my life now .Which brings me to the present day, another one that I'll mark in history with red. The day I met him.

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