Part 3

A chair scrapes against the floor and makes a terrible, chilling sound. Someone pulls it right beside mine. “Elexa, would you mind telling us what happened to your eyes?”

 

“You figured it out,” I snap. “I cut them out.”

 

“I want you to tell me why,” she says.

 

I can’t say anything. For five years I’ve done nothing but try to forget the pain that I felt that afternoon, emotionally and physically. I really don’t want to have to relive it now.

 

But with a sinking feeling in my gut, I realize this is the only thing that will make them believe me.

 

I suck in a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll tell you what happened.” My voice is smaller than I’d intended it to be.

 

I delve into my memories and begin. “It was a Wednesday, and it started off as any other. I struggled to wake up, I had a half-asleep shower, I got dressed, and went to school. But for some reason, my crush, Carson Treeny, took a particular interest in me.

 

“He bumped into me in the halls, and when we both looked up to apologize, his face lit up. I didn’t know why, but then I could see him staring into my eyes like they were all that mattered in this world. I looked, down, conscious of the fact that I could kill him if I wasn’t careful.

 

“But he told me to look up, and that it was all okay. Then he told me I had the most dazzling eyes. They were a luminescent violet-blue, and they always seemed to draw people to them. Oh, the irony, hmm?

 

“Anyways, he coaxed me into looking up again, and I told myself I’d count to five, then look away. But then we were staring into each other’s eyes and I lost count . . . he had dazzling eyes, too, you see? They were shockingly green, and coupled with that electric smile and dimples, I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

 

“Then I got a hold of myself and shoved away. I started screaming. I knew that it had been more than ten seconds. He tried to calm me down and told me it would all be okay, but I knew the truth. He was going to die within twenty-four hours and it was all my fault.

 

“I pushed away and ran down the hallways, crying and screaming and hyperventilating. I got to the girl’s bathroom, and locked myself in a stall. I didn’t come out for a long time, not until the bell rang at the end of the day. I prayed I wouldn’t see Carson again.

 

“But of course, luck never has been on my side, has it? I saw him. I saw him talking and laughing with his friends. I saw him step onto the street. I saw him begin to cross without looking. I saw the bus round the corner with lightning speed. And I saw that bus run right over him and drag him underneath it a few meters. I saw his blood stain the asphalt a deep crimson.

 

“But I didn’t break down until I got home. I kept myself stone-faced until I was in my room, on my bed, and the world was locked away. Then I screamed and cried and threw things across the room and smashed other things with my fists.

 

“That’s how I broke the mirror, with my fists. I pounded it until it broke into dozens of shards. Then I picked one up and closed my hand around it until my skin bled like a red river. Oh, God, it hurt, but I knew what I was doing. Kind of.

 

“Then I got this crazy idea. I wondered if my curse would just cease to exist if my eyes ceased to exist. So I took that shard of broken mirror and I carved my right eye out. Sweet Jesus, the pain was so terrible that I passed out four times before I even got the first eye out. Another five or six times before the left eye came out, too.

 

“Then I passed out again one final time from blood loss and if my mother hadn’t arrived from work early that day, I probably would’ve died. I’d lost a lot of blood. God, what a sight that must’ve been. Two cut-up eyeballs just lying on the floor right next to the daughter drowning in blood.

 

“Anyways, I woke up in the hospital a while later, completely blind. And I’ve never been able to kill again since my eyes are gone.”

 

The room is eerily quiet when I finish. Then someone vomits, and a sort of domino effect occurs. Several people vomit after the first, and then more and more are throwing up until the stench is so vile I puke up my own guts. I’m herded out of whatever room I was placed in and taken to a bathroom. Someone cleans me without saying anything. I relish in the reactions to my story.