Killer Eyes
This was written by my dearest friend. It's not something normally I'd seek out to read, or enjoy reading in general. But this was written with deep emotion, negative or otherwise. It's a wonderful story, well written, and he gave me permission to post it up here since he originally didn't plan to share it to begin with.
Jaiden isn't his real name, but a few of you probably know who it is.
Killer Eyes By Jaiden
"Have you ever wondered, even put the faintest bit of thought into what your insides look like..? How it would feel to lay there, watching a knife cut into your flesh while you feel nothing at all? No pain, no agony, nothing. Just whatever emotions your mind forces you to feel... Fear. Anger. Despair. Maybe even joy?"
mused the figure hunched over a table that had an assorted amount of cutting tools and implements of torture. Ringert didn't know how he got to where he was, or how he ended up in the position he was in, facing the floor while strapped into a doctors table, suspended from the dimly lit ceiling. Ringert pulled against his restraints, clenching his paws weakly, unable to conjure up much muscle with the powerful sedative that had been injected straight into his system. Looking groggily and passively while the shadowed figure turns around, a sharp and tiny knife gleaming in the little light found inside the room.
"This life we all have, it really is valuable, isn't it? Only get one shot to do it right, if not... Well you're shit out of luck! And you have to enjoy it too! Can't just... Well, do things "right", but have to do it in a manner that makes you feel good. I can tell you for sure that I'm good. The fact that I'm in front of you, smiling, is a testament to that, isn't it?"
Finishing that last sentence with a glance up at Ringert, reaching out and pressing the red button from the dangling control panel, changing the angle of the table until Ringert is roughly 45 degrees from the floor. Slowly, the killer approaches the table, pulling back his hood to reveal his, at first glance, canine in appearance face. However, it seemed to be more of a mixture than anything else, the snout appearing draconic with two thin "mustaches" draping backwards, sort of like an oriental dragon. Two fangs extending past his tightly clenched lips right at the front of his snout. Despite the weird features the most prominent feature was his eyes... The kind that no one would forget. They seemed to almost glow, clearly being visible in the dark, the reptilian iris staring straight at Ringert as the knife came up and pressed onto furred chest. The restrained husky tried weakly squirming, unable to even phase the stoic man with his snarling and growling. Now whining as the blade's tip pressed down a bit into the soft flesh under all the fur, the shadowy figure turning slowly to stare at Ringert's face, looking straight into his eyes. It was at that moment Ringer realized he wasn't getting out of there alive, those eyes telling him everything that he needed to know, yet not revealing anything at all. Eyes that pierced into his soul, while not letting passage into it's own. Eyes that frightened, but would never flinch in fear. The eyes of a true killer, death incarnate.
"You see it, don't you? You fucked up. You could've been having such a wonderful life, but instead you're here with me! What did you do wrong? Where did you make a mistake? Does it even matter? No, of course not. It's not one event that dooms you, it's a lifestyle choice. Those are the people I look for, those are the people that find themselves here to die... Were you even alive to begin with? Hmmm, Ringert~?"
And without any warning the knife slides down the, now trembling, Husky's chest, splitting apart the skin like a zipper, revealing the contents just within at a moment's notice. The tiny knife, blade now completely hidden beneath the flesh it's rearing open, blood gushing around it and dripping down onto Ringert's fur. All the while Ringert could only look down at the process, eyes wide in shock and mouth gaping open, white fur on his front turning a dark red quickly as the knife finishes it's path, stopping right above his navel. The mysterious man then sticks his paws into the wound, prying it apart and revealing the organs beneath. Poking and moving them around, covering himself in Ringert's blood, not really caring though.
"You have a heart! Does that mean you are alive? Does having a heart mean you have lived your life? Or where you simply a corpse walking? Zombies could be real. Maybe just in a different way... Did you ever bother thinking about all this...?"
Walking back towards the table, the killer brings out a surgeon grade bone saw, pushing the tiny button with his blood covered claw tip to have the blade start spinning, pressing it onto Ringert's skull as the bone chips and flesh starts to fly out, splattering onto the nearby wall. During this, Ringert starts heaving, dry-retching as it's stomach tries to expunge itself of its non-existent contents. It ultimately makes matters worse since during the process he sees his stomach contract and relax through his open chest cavity, making him feel even more freaked out. Panicking and breathing both heavily and rapidly, Ringert soon falls unconscious with shock... Coming "to" shortly, only to see the man hunched over him, poking at what he assumed can only be his brain. On the other side of his head lay the top of his skull, complete with blood stained ears and his black hair.
"No you definitely had a brain too.. You could think! So if you have a brain, and a heart that must mean you are alive! But yet, here you are! And I know my clients... I know who comes through my door, willing or... Otherwise. So what made you not live? Why aren't you not alive?" Says the man as he walks slowly back towards his table of tools, placing down the bonesaw before turning around and walking back. "Well, there were many reasons Ringert. You have eyes, but you don't use them but only to see the bad. Your ears only pick up on what you'd rather not hear. Your mouth says what you regret to think. And of course... The biggest reason is because you're now dead."
With that last word, the man reveals the small hand axe behind his back, swinging it down violently until it makes contact with the restrained Husky's neck, chopping into the jugular veins as well as the windpipe. Blood begins pouring out rapidly while the killer sets up for another swing, liquid pooling in through the gash to the wind pipe, causing Ringert to gurgle as the blood further stops him for breathing. A few more swings meet with the neck, finally hitting the spine, but not stopping there, swing after swing making contact in just the right places until a loud snap signifies the head finally popping free. Eyes already permanently glazed over and open as the head rolls off the table, smacking into the cold ground.
"Yep. Definitely dead."