The Cat With the Hazel Eyes

A short story I've been working on. Slightly graphic.

Pierre and I took the gondola out on the river by my house that day, just like we had every other Sunday morning. The sun was just rising in the orange-blue sky, and the light sound of the birds chirping was heard in the distance. I felt a sudden change in Pierre’s demeanor, and I grew tense. The new morning sun glistened on the water and I could feel the warmth on my face, “Pierre?” I calmly spoke his name with worry apparent in my voice.

He stopped rowing, and we stopped on the bank of the harbor under the bridge. “Yes, my dearest?” He smiled wry a smile that I had never seen cross his face before, although his eyes were full of kindness and sorrow.

I hesitantly asked, “A-are you okay?” 

Pierre gently reached out his hand to me, “Rose...” he whispered, and he cupped my face. I was frozen in my place. My mind was racing trying to figure out what was going on, and as I opened my mouth to say something, he bent down and planted his lips on mine. I tensed up, my body not knowing what to do, and my mind not making any sense, I pushed away and turned my face.

“Pierre, what do you think you are doing?” I finally snapped.

“I-I have always loved you Rose.” Pierre confessed, and I sat quietly, still tense. “Why couldn’t you choose me?” he snapped at me. “Why was it him? Why has it always been him?” he looked at me with those eyes, and I no longer saw kindness in them. “Rose, do you love me..?”

“Yes, I love you Pierre, but not in the way you want me to. I’m sorry.” I smiled and I closed my parasol. Pierre and I got out of the boat, and I turned to him, “So what’s on our agenda today?” I asked. He did not answer me at all, and when I looked in his eyes, I saw nothing. He looked at me sternly and grabbed my wrist. “Rose.” I tensed my arm and looked at him with concern, “I want you.” he had the smile from earlier.

“Pierre, maybe we should just head back..” I tried to release his grip from my arm, but I could not free myself. I dropped my parasol on the bank when he grabbed my other wrist and threw me down under the bridge, then everything went black. I opened my eyes and we were on the gondola. Pierre was rowing, and I had my parasol in hand, 'Was it just a dream?’ I thought to myself. I felt strong pain coming from my head, “ow..” I placed my head on the back of my head and I felt something wet. I looked at my hand and there was red drenching my fingertips. I was flooded with fear again. My whole body ached, I could not look at his face. I sat sideways on the boat, and after a while he stopped rowing.

I felt his hand on my back, and I trembled, “Look at me Rose.” I would not look at him. He grabbed my face and made me face him. “Look at me Rose.” he said sternly. My body went numb, and I could not move. I tried to think of Philippe and Marie, my husband and daughter. ‘Mommy loves you Marie...’ I felt tears run down my face. I tried not to think of the events that had occurred and what was about to happen. “I said look at me!” all I could see were his eyes, those dreadful eyes...I felt a cold sensation over my body, and his eyes got further away. I could no longer think of Philippe or Marie, the only thing that filled my mind were those eyes. Hazel. That dreadful color is now all I can see. Those hazel eyes will haunt me as I drift, forever sinking, for I will never find peace.