The Truth Behind Those Eyes

The Truth Behind Those Eyes - Prologue

"So tell me, how'd it happen to you?" 

He raised his face and looked up through his dark fringe. "Huh?" 

 She rolled her eyes and held out her hands, palms up. "How'd you end up here?"

Looking around the sparsely furnished white room, he shrugged. His mind too occupied to engage in this futile conversation with a woman he would certainly never see again. She mirrored his shrug and turned away, looking around the room for something to entertain herself.

A few green, hard plastic chairs littered the tiny room haphazardly but he was happy seated on the floor with his legs pulled up to his chest, back against the wall. The lights glared down brightly and buzzed noisily, seeping unwelcome into his thoughts. 

 The woman opposite him sighed deeply and sank into one of the unforgiving chairs. 

 "Wonder how long they'll keep us here?" she mused; her blonde curls bouncing as she looked around. He ignored her green eyes as they rested on him, choosing instead to concentrate on the events that had brought him to this place. 

As the time ticked by he didn't move from his upright foetal position except to lock his arms around his knees. He had no idea how long he'd been there, trapped inside the white cell with the intrusive lights, but it felt like a lifetime. 

 "I was too busy looking at the map, didn't notice the junction until bam!" she explained loudly. 

He flinched as she smacked her hands against her thighs to emphasise her words, and glared over his knuckles. She met his eyes. 

"What's your problem," she frowned, "well, other than the obvious?" 

"Can you just be quiet?" His voice was raspy and thick with annoyance. 

"Can you just be civil?" 

 Before he could answer the door to his left opened a few inches. He looked up expectantly but saw nothing. 

"Oh! Well then, this is me." His unwanted cellmate declared, the relief in her voice palpable. Without glancing back at the man on the floor she strode confidently to the door and disappeared through, closing it firmly behind her. 

Cautiously he rose. He had no way of knowing how long he'd be here but as long as she didn't return he was pretty sure he could handle it. 

He paced the room, running his hands through his hair and licking his lips periodically. So this was it. This is what it all boiled down to. 

"Bit anticlimactic," he muttered. 

Once again the door opened but he didn't move. Instead someone came in. Or rather, something. 

He sat down. He didn't know why - he didn't want to sit but some compulsion forced his knees to bend and his body to lower into a chair. 

The thing sat opposite him and suddenly there was silence. A silence so loud it was oppressive. 

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and fidgeted, unexpectedly wishing his previous cellmate would come back. 

The thing sat, patiently ... Watching. 

He squirmed under the scrutiny. He knew it was staring at him, watching his every move. He knew it for certain but was confused. It had no eyes, but it was searching him. Inside and out. Reading him from cover to cover, silently. Thoroughly. 

He wanted to speak. He wanted to break the insufferable silence but his body wouldn't respond. It was then he realised. As he realised, his eyes grew wide and his body began to tremble. 

He couldn't breathe. But he didn't need to breathe. 

That's the thing about being dead. You don't need oxygen. Or food. Or water. But apparently you still needed your body. 

"Dead?" He managed to form the word as a question but he already knew the answer.The thing opposite him didn't move didn't make a sound, and yet it answered him. 

"Dead," it confirmed.