I sat, soaking in the rain pouring down. He was in the house, he didn't know I was there. None of them did.
Ocassionaly I would move slightly, following the pattern of the wind, trusting the leaves to conceal me.
This was my first time following him. I saw him today, at my coffee shop.
I gave him his order, our hands met and he turned those eyes on me. His eyes were exactly like hers. How dare he! She was the best person I ever knew, she didn't mind the monster inside me.
She helped me see, not all who hurt are bad. She told me I was so hurt inside, that I hurt others outside. I didn't understand at first, but when I woke from a dream of knives and death I knew.
It was no dream.
She would never comfort me again, her soft voice couldn't chase the demons away anymore.
He appears in the doorway, illuminated in the darkness. A small dog runs out, shudders at the rain, and quickly runs back to its percieved safety.
Her eyes peered into the darkness, ruined by the body they now inhabited. I growled lowly. Tonight was not the night, this was not the place.
To let him know I was watching, I took my smallest knife and decorated his car.
LET HER GO.
He came to my coffee shop again. I smiled as I handed him his drink, "you have really nice eyes" I murmured.
He blushed slightly, a nervous hand rubbing his neck "Thanks." he said softly
I smiled wider, "See you tomorrow?"
"Yes ma'am" he nodded. He turned to leave, one last glance of her eyes over his shoulder before the door shut between us. His friend drove him today.
He came in for coffee every day for the rest of the week. We talked, I learned.
I learned that his name was Wyatt, he lived by himself with his dog and someone had scratched up his car so he had to beg rides from his coworkers.
His voice was soft, but not soothing like hers. He still had her trapped within him. I had to free her.
The next week, my opportunity came. He asked me if I wanted to get dinner with him. I was startled, I had always thought she was the only one who could bear to be around me.
This was her sign, she wanted us alone together so I could save her.
"I could cook for us?" I suggested, my knives are getting lonely.
He laughed "Actually I was going to suggest the same thing! Why don't we cook together?"
"Why don't I cook dinner, and you do dessert?"
He faltered for a split second, an unreadable emotion on his face. "Sure, I would love that! Does tomorrow night work for you?"
I nodded, handing him his regular order.
"This one is on me." I hoped he would mistake it for a friendly gesture.
"Wow thank you!" Her eyes sparkled, she knew. "I'll see you tomorrow? We can work out the details then!"
I just smiled, I would be seeing him much sooner than that.
Two hours later I was in his bedroom, the dog resting near me. I heard the key in the lock, muttered curses as he rushed inside.
A louder curse as he failed to make it to the kitchen sink before getting sick. The sound of dry heaves signaled he was getting closer. He entered the room, not bothering to turn the light on.
He was pale, sweat leaving patches on his nice shirt. He saw the dog, then did a double take as he saw me.
"What the hell?!" he yelled. I could see him fighting down another wave of nausea, this one not caused by what I put in his coffee.
"Baxter! You killed him!"
I looked down at the hand petting the dog, it did look slightly discolored. "What color is this?" I whispered, holding my hand up.
"What? I-It's blood you freak! Red!"
"You really do have her eyes. What color is that? Or that?" I began to feel a rush, pointing at bland objects around me.
He heaved again, a dribble of sick escaping. "What is going on?" he moaned, collapsing to his knees.
I stood, making my way over to him. I grabbed his chin, forced those eyes to look into mine "You see the colors. She tried to help me see the colors, then she left me."
I reached to the side, grabbing a sock and stuffing it in his mouth so he couldn't scream. His body spasmed, no escape for the sickness any longer. He fell on his back, clawing at his throat.
I stood over him and reached for her eyes.
I calmly washed my hands and knives in his sink. I let the discoloration flow down the drain. I still couldn't see the colors.
I walked outside, shouldering my bag of supplies. A woman jogged by, raised her hand in a small wave and smiled at me. I started to respond in kind, when I saw. She had those eyes.