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- Seen May 9, 2024
His Empty Eyes
Part 1
A few days ago, I got a text from my friend Tom, inviting me to hang out with him and a few others for a party. I accepted, because I don't really get a lot of invitations to hang out. I anticipated today for a long time, and I learned from past mistakes to expect to drink anytime I was hanging out with my friends, so I made arrangements and had my dad drop me off instead of driving myself. I had driven myself home while I was tipsy once before, and it was an experience that I don't want to have again.
My dad dropped me off at my friend's house. He mentioned that he was going to drop my brother off at his girlfriend's house because he was spending the night and then started to crack a joke about getting drunk, but I shut the door before he could finish. I walked to the door and knocked. His mom answered. I asked if Tom was home, and she invited me into the living room where I found a few of his other friends waiting. I felt really uncomfortable around these strangers, and I needed some alcohol to loosen me up. She asked me if I was thirsty and went to get some water when I shook my head yes.
She came back with a serving tray and a few glasses of water sitting on top. She passed them one by one to Tom's other friends' and then to me and then excused herself and went to the kitchen, where I assume she stayed until we left. Tom finally came downstairs just as I finished my glass of water. He asked what car we were taking, and one of his friends said "mine." They got into a little argument about how his car wasn't big enough to fit everyone, but his friend was adamant about taking his car, so they decided to take two cars. Tom announced that we were leaving, and his mom shouted to be careful and we all left the house.
I got into a car full of strangers. Tom went into the other car. The moment I got in, I knew this was going to just be very uncomfortable. The car itself reeked of weed. As soon as the car started, someone next to me lit up a blunt they had and offered some to me. I smoke when I'm offered, if I'm in the mood. But I just wasn't up for that tonight so I declined. He gave me this judgmental look before he took a hit and then he passed it around to another friend. After only a matter of minutes, it seemed like the entire car was full of smoke.
It took about ten minutes to get to the party, but it seemed a lot longer than that. I got out really quickly and Tom was standing at the gate waiting for us, so we walked over. Everyone who was in the car with me was pretty much stoned, except for me and the girl who was in the passenger's seat. We had a quick conversation as a group and then walked up to the porch and knocked on the door. I already felt like going home. The music was so loud, you could probably hear it a few blocks away. I was so confused how nobody called the cops yet, but the street looked pretty empty and most of the lights from the neighboring houses were off. I guess they were at the festival.
Some big dude opened the door and invited us in, passing us each a can of beer as we entered. I finished mine before we even made it to the basement, where the party was. That doesn't say much, though. I just have a problem with drinking beer like it's water. It was jammed down there, and I was starting to feel claustrophobic in only a matter of seconds. "I knew I shouldn't have come here" I remember saying to Tom, who pretty much just shook it off as me being me.
About an hour and a half later, I still wasn't having much fun. I danced a little, and drank a few more beers, but for the most part I was just having a lousy time. I'm just not the type of person that can enjoy an experience like this. The town made me uncomfortable, since it wasn't a good neighborhood, and the people just didn't seem like the type of people that I would hang out with in any other situation. I had my guard up the entire time and tried my best to separate myself from the party. After a few beers, all of my inhibitions usually leave me. At this point, I was pretty tipsy and would normally be having a good time. But something was different. I didn't give it much thought past that, but I decided that I was going to go home and looked for Tom.
I wandered around the basement looking for Tom and finally found him playing pool with the girl who didn't smoke in the car and some other guy. I told him that I wasn't feeling well and that I was going to go home and gave him a hug and one of those pats on the back and stumbled my way back up the steps, down the hall, and out the front door so I could call my dad to come pick me up. It took me two tries before he finally picked up, and I told him that I was ready to go home. He asked me where I was, and I told him the address, and he said he'd be there in a few minutes.
I sat on the porch for about fifteen minutes before he got there. A few other people had left at that point, so I didn't feel like a complete loser. But I still felt pretty bad that I couldn't shake off my party-pooper mood. I was sure at that point that Tom wouldn't invite me to hang out with him anymore. Not in large groups, anyway.
I played with my phone while I waited. When my dad finally got there, he pulled up on the side of the street, behind the car that Tom rode in. I walked to the car and opened the door. It was then that I noticed across the street, a shadowy figure standing in my direction, standing beside a telephone booth. He was staring at me. Just staring. I couldn't make out his eyes, so I wasn't really sure what to make of it. I wasn't afraid, or creeped out. It could have been someone with a staring problem or something. I shook it off almost immediately.
"How was it?" my dad asked.
"Fine." I lied, as I took my seat and shut the car door.
"Did you have fun?"
"Yeah." I lied. "I'm just not feeling well."
"What's wrong?" he asked as he started to drive.
"I just have a headache." I said.
"Alright, kiddo." he replied, turning down the volume of the music.
We drove the rest of the way in silence. It wasn't that long of a trip back to the house. Only about twenty minutes. When we got there, my dad dropped me off, and told me that he had to go to the store to pick up a few things for tomorrow. I didn't really think much about it, but I probably should have. It was 3:00 in the morning. What store was he going to? He gave me the keys to the house and told me to take it easy and try my best to sleep and that he'd be back with some Gatorade for me for when the hangover came. I laughed, said "okay" and shut the door, walking towards the front door and unlocking it, and making my way into my bedroom where I fell onto my bed. Just as my head hit my pillow, the headache intensified. Unfortunately, we were out of Advil, my go-to headache cure, so I had to suffer through it. I groaned and turned to my side and tried my best to fall asleep. Eventually, I dozed off.
I woke up to the sound of a door slamming shut. I rolled over and dug my hand into my pocket and took out my phone. It was only 4:14. I groaned again and turned back on my side, staring at my phone. 4 missed calls and 5 text messages. All from my dad. I unlocked my phone and opened up our conversation.
"Kyle I need you to call me as soon as possible." the first message read.
"Kyle please call me." the second message read.
"Kyle!" the third message read.
"Take your phone off silent mode and ♥♥♥♥ing call me." the fourth message read.
"Your brother's in the hospital. He got jumped." the last message read.
My heart sunk. I tried to stand up. I was still tipsy, so I couldn't. I tapped the phone icon in our conversation and waited. No answer. I tried again. No answer. I sent him a text, telling him to call me and I waited. He called me back about two minutes after.
"We're going to be here for a few more hours." he said.
"What?" I asked.
"It's going to be a few more hours before we leave."
"You aren't home?!" I asked.
"No. I'm waiting for the doctor to come and check Phil out." he said.
I got cold and immediately froze up. My heart began to race. I woke up because I heard the door slam shut. Someone was in my house. My eyes glanced towards my door, and the light was on.
"Someone's in the house!" I whispered alertly.
"What?!" he asked.
"Someone's in the house!!" I repeated. "The front door slammed shut and now the hall light's on. Call the cops!!"
"Grab your baseball bat or something and hide in your bathroom." he told me. "I'll call the cops. I love you" he said.
He hung up. My heart was pounding. Suddenly I seemed to be able to stand to my feet, but not without stumbling a little. I didn't have my baseball bat, so I had to make do with a hanger that was hanging on my the edge of my bed from the shirt that I had put on to wear today. I quickly grabbed it and started trying to untwist the hanger. I dropped my phone in the darkness and it made a thud as it hit the floor. My heart was racing, so I ignored it and made my way to my bathroom door. I pushed the door open and walked in, shutting it quickly behind me. I didn't turn the light on. If whoever this person was came into my room, I didn't want him to think that anyone was in here. I tried my best to make it to the bathtub where I could hide, sliding my hands against the wall until I could feel the cold tile on the wall where the shower started. I pushed the curtain aside and crawled into the bathtub, sliding it back quickly into place behind me. My heart was pounding out of my chest. Sweat was dripping down my face. I had never felt this helpless. I have never been so scared in my life. I hid my head between my knees and prayed, like all atheists do when they lose all sense of control.
Minutes passed, but it felt like hours. I was trapped in my mind, analyzing the situation. That person I saw across the street at the party. Could it be the same person? Was this planned? Or was that just a coincidence? My house was a half hour away from that party. Not to mention it was also across a bridge in another state. He would have had to tail us and follow us all the way back, which seemed way too unlikely. In that moment, I decided that it was just a coincidence that that happened tonight and that it was a separate instance. Still, the possibility of the two happenings being related lingered in my mind.
My concentration broke when I heard my phone vibrating on the hard wood floor in my room. It must have been my dad, because it started vibrating again not too soon after it stopped. And then it happened again. And again. This continued for the rest of the night. My phone's vibration was pretty loud, especially in contrast to the wooden floor. I sat in the dark alone with no signs of there being anything else going on in the world than what was happening to me right now, and only the humming of my phone filling in the hallow walls. I prayed that the phone wasn't loud enough to draw attention to my bedroom. The night outside was quiet. It was one of those nights that you would feel was too quiet if you gave it some thought. I felt like I was in one of those horror movies. I was a giant cliché and I was scared. Would he find me? Would I die if he did?
The front door slammed open and I heard orders being barked out by what could only be policemen. They were searching the house. I heard footsteps rushing upstairs, and voices coming from my brother's room right next to mine. Not too long after, my door opened. Safety wrapped it's hands around my heart. I was safe. I heard footsteps walking towards the bathroom door, and when it opened, I never felt so relieved in my life. White light engulfed the bathroom for a moment, before the light switch turned on. My shower curtain flung open and I looked up higher to see a man in a police uniform with a gun pointed at me. I smiled, full of relief.
"Put your hands up!!" a police officer shouted.
I did as they said.
"Put your hands up!!!" he repeated, more urgently.
I rose my hands higher and looked him in the eye.
He wasn't looking at me.
I turned my head to the left. There was a man standing next to me in the shower. He was holding a knife and he had the craziest, twisted, most frightening grin I had ever seen. His eyes were wide. They seemed to be full of joy, of excitement. Of thrill. Chills ran over my body as safety released it's loving arms from my heart.
What happened next is something I'll never forget, even if I tried. He lunged towards me, screaming, pointing the knife at my chest. I closed my eyes, prepared to die, and screamed in fear back. And then my arms rose, in an attempt to protect me. My face turned the opposite direction. It was a natural reaction, something I didn't give any conscious thought of doing. The rest of my body was frozen. Suddenly a gunshot fired and a metallic clank echoed against the tiles. I felt a slight breeze against my face and I heard the sound of something else I couldn't distinguish collapse. For a moment I was stunned. Then my face felt warmer than it had since I got home. I opened my eyes and ran the back of my hand against my cheek. I looked at my scarlet fingers in horror. I was covered in blood. I broke down and began to cry. The police officer looked at me with pain in his eyes as I sank my head between my knees.
He let me cry until I couldn't cry anymore. He didn't try to comfort me. He just let me process the events on my own. I could tell she cared, though. He stayed with me in the bathroom while the other police officers left my bedroom. The man who broke into my house was still beside me. He fell and broke the curtain's rod. His face rested against the toilet. I turned my head, resting my temple against my knee and looked his direction. His face was covered in the blood that continued to run from the wound on his forehead. His eyes were empty. He was a shell of a being. His eyes had blood in them too. I continued to gaze into his empty eyes. I had never seen death before today. He was smiling.
"Why?" I asked him.
The police officer turned to my direction and walked over. I looked toward him. He had a sympathetic expression written on his face. "Some people do things for no reason at all." he finally said. I accepted his answer and looked again at the man.
My brain began to process these events in a way I didn't think was really possible for someone in my position. I wanted to know who this man was. I wanted to know what he did for a living. I wanted to know everything I could find out about him. I wanted to know about the man whose blood covered me. I wanted to know the man with the empty eyes.
Finally, I stood. The policeman looked at me, confused, as I lifted my leg out of the tub and began to walk back to my bedroom. My phone was lying on the floor, a few feet away from my bed. I picked it up. I had 42 missed calls from my dad, with the most recent one being twenty minutes ago. He must have been contacted and told about what happened. I put my phone in my pocket and turned back towards my bathroom and walked in.
"Can you give me a minute alone please? I asked.
He nodded. "I'll be out in the hall."
When he left, I shut the door. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone and opened the camera app and began to take pictures of the room around me. I wasn't sure why. I asked myself why I was doing this, because even I didn't know. I was losing my mind. I was scared again. "Some people do things for no reason at all." was what the policeman said, and it was that statement which brought me some comfort. When I finally reached the toilet in my pictures, all of my attention was focused on the man. I must have taken at least twenty pictures of the man alone, many of them focused on his empty eyes. When I felt I had enough, I locked my phone and put it back into my pocket. I opened the door, closing it behind me and walked towards the hall.
As I reached the hallway, the front door opened. It was my father. I looked at him, and he looked back at me. In a moment, I felt like a little boy again. I ran towards him and he began to run towards me. When we met, he grabbed me in his arms and embraced me. My pain fled my body.
"I love you." he said.
"I love you too."
"I'm so glad you're okay."
My dad let go and stared at me. At my face. My bloody face. My dad turned his attention to the officer standing behind me. He nodded, rubbed his hand through my hair, and walked toward him. They walked into my bedroom together. I walked towards the front door, where my brother was standing. He was staring at me too. Slowly, he walked towards me. His hand rose, and he rubbed it against my cheek. He was crying. "What happened?" he asked.
I opened my mouth to speak, and in that moment, I heard a loud scream coming from my bedroom. I ran down the hall and into my room. Nobody was there. My bathroom door was open. My dad was on the floor. He was holding the man in his arms. He was crying.
My heart sank into my chest again. The man who almost killed me was someone my father knew. Not only knew, he was someone my father knew well enough to cause him to cry.
"Dad?" I asked, slowly walking towards him.
He looked up, but quickly turned his attention back to the man.
"Why are you crying?"
He didn't answer.
"Dad?"
A few days ago, I got a text from my friend Tom, inviting me to hang out with him and a few others for a party. I accepted, because I don't really get a lot of invitations to hang out. I anticipated today for a long time, and I learned from past mistakes to expect to drink anytime I was hanging out with my friends, so I made arrangements and had my dad drop me off instead of driving myself. I had driven myself home while I was tipsy once before, and it was an experience that I don't want to have again.
My dad dropped me off at my friend's house. He mentioned that he was going to drop my brother off at his girlfriend's house because he was spending the night and then started to crack a joke about getting drunk, but I shut the door before he could finish. I walked to the door and knocked. His mom answered. I asked if Tom was home, and she invited me into the living room where I found a few of his other friends waiting. I felt really uncomfortable around these strangers, and I needed some alcohol to loosen me up. She asked me if I was thirsty and went to get some water when I shook my head yes.
She came back with a serving tray and a few glasses of water sitting on top. She passed them one by one to Tom's other friends' and then to me and then excused herself and went to the kitchen, where I assume she stayed until we left. Tom finally came downstairs just as I finished my glass of water. He asked what car we were taking, and one of his friends said "mine." They got into a little argument about how his car wasn't big enough to fit everyone, but his friend was adamant about taking his car, so they decided to take two cars. Tom announced that we were leaving, and his mom shouted to be careful and we all left the house.
I got into a car full of strangers. Tom went into the other car. The moment I got in, I knew this was going to just be very uncomfortable. The car itself reeked of weed. As soon as the car started, someone next to me lit up a blunt they had and offered some to me. I smoke when I'm offered, if I'm in the mood. But I just wasn't up for that tonight so I declined. He gave me this judgmental look before he took a hit and then he passed it around to another friend. After only a matter of minutes, it seemed like the entire car was full of smoke.
It took about ten minutes to get to the party, but it seemed a lot longer than that. I got out really quickly and Tom was standing at the gate waiting for us, so we walked over. Everyone who was in the car with me was pretty much stoned, except for me and the girl who was in the passenger's seat. We had a quick conversation as a group and then walked up to the porch and knocked on the door. I already felt like going home. The music was so loud, you could probably hear it a few blocks away. I was so confused how nobody called the cops yet, but the street looked pretty empty and most of the lights from the neighboring houses were off. I guess they were at the festival.
Some big dude opened the door and invited us in, passing us each a can of beer as we entered. I finished mine before we even made it to the basement, where the party was. That doesn't say much, though. I just have a problem with drinking beer like it's water. It was jammed down there, and I was starting to feel claustrophobic in only a matter of seconds. "I knew I shouldn't have come here" I remember saying to Tom, who pretty much just shook it off as me being me.
About an hour and a half later, I still wasn't having much fun. I danced a little, and drank a few more beers, but for the most part I was just having a lousy time. I'm just not the type of person that can enjoy an experience like this. The town made me uncomfortable, since it wasn't a good neighborhood, and the people just didn't seem like the type of people that I would hang out with in any other situation. I had my guard up the entire time and tried my best to separate myself from the party. After a few beers, all of my inhibitions usually leave me. At this point, I was pretty tipsy and would normally be having a good time. But something was different. I didn't give it much thought past that, but I decided that I was going to go home and looked for Tom.
I wandered around the basement looking for Tom and finally found him playing pool with the girl who didn't smoke in the car and some other guy. I told him that I wasn't feeling well and that I was going to go home and gave him a hug and one of those pats on the back and stumbled my way back up the steps, down the hall, and out the front door so I could call my dad to come pick me up. It took me two tries before he finally picked up, and I told him that I was ready to go home. He asked me where I was, and I told him the address, and he said he'd be there in a few minutes.
I sat on the porch for about fifteen minutes before he got there. A few other people had left at that point, so I didn't feel like a complete loser. But I still felt pretty bad that I couldn't shake off my party-pooper mood. I was sure at that point that Tom wouldn't invite me to hang out with him anymore. Not in large groups, anyway.
I played with my phone while I waited. When my dad finally got there, he pulled up on the side of the street, behind the car that Tom rode in. I walked to the car and opened the door. It was then that I noticed across the street, a shadowy figure standing in my direction, standing beside a telephone booth. He was staring at me. Just staring. I couldn't make out his eyes, so I wasn't really sure what to make of it. I wasn't afraid, or creeped out. It could have been someone with a staring problem or something. I shook it off almost immediately.
"How was it?" my dad asked.
"Fine." I lied, as I took my seat and shut the car door.
"Did you have fun?"
"Yeah." I lied. "I'm just not feeling well."
"What's wrong?" he asked as he started to drive.
"I just have a headache." I said.
"Alright, kiddo." he replied, turning down the volume of the music.
We drove the rest of the way in silence. It wasn't that long of a trip back to the house. Only about twenty minutes. When we got there, my dad dropped me off, and told me that he had to go to the store to pick up a few things for tomorrow. I didn't really think much about it, but I probably should have. It was 3:00 in the morning. What store was he going to? He gave me the keys to the house and told me to take it easy and try my best to sleep and that he'd be back with some Gatorade for me for when the hangover came. I laughed, said "okay" and shut the door, walking towards the front door and unlocking it, and making my way into my bedroom where I fell onto my bed. Just as my head hit my pillow, the headache intensified. Unfortunately, we were out of Advil, my go-to headache cure, so I had to suffer through it. I groaned and turned to my side and tried my best to fall asleep. Eventually, I dozed off.
I woke up to the sound of a door slamming shut. I rolled over and dug my hand into my pocket and took out my phone. It was only 4:14. I groaned again and turned back on my side, staring at my phone. 4 missed calls and 5 text messages. All from my dad. I unlocked my phone and opened up our conversation.
"Kyle I need you to call me as soon as possible." the first message read.
"Kyle please call me." the second message read.
"Kyle!" the third message read.
"Take your phone off silent mode and ♥♥♥♥ing call me." the fourth message read.
"Your brother's in the hospital. He got jumped." the last message read.
My heart sunk. I tried to stand up. I was still tipsy, so I couldn't. I tapped the phone icon in our conversation and waited. No answer. I tried again. No answer. I sent him a text, telling him to call me and I waited. He called me back about two minutes after.
"We're going to be here for a few more hours." he said.
"What?" I asked.
"It's going to be a few more hours before we leave."
"You aren't home?!" I asked.
"No. I'm waiting for the doctor to come and check Phil out." he said.
I got cold and immediately froze up. My heart began to race. I woke up because I heard the door slam shut. Someone was in my house. My eyes glanced towards my door, and the light was on.
"Someone's in the house!" I whispered alertly.
"What?!" he asked.
"Someone's in the house!!" I repeated. "The front door slammed shut and now the hall light's on. Call the cops!!"
"Grab your baseball bat or something and hide in your bathroom." he told me. "I'll call the cops. I love you" he said.
He hung up. My heart was pounding. Suddenly I seemed to be able to stand to my feet, but not without stumbling a little. I didn't have my baseball bat, so I had to make do with a hanger that was hanging on my the edge of my bed from the shirt that I had put on to wear today. I quickly grabbed it and started trying to untwist the hanger. I dropped my phone in the darkness and it made a thud as it hit the floor. My heart was racing, so I ignored it and made my way to my bathroom door. I pushed the door open and walked in, shutting it quickly behind me. I didn't turn the light on. If whoever this person was came into my room, I didn't want him to think that anyone was in here. I tried my best to make it to the bathtub where I could hide, sliding my hands against the wall until I could feel the cold tile on the wall where the shower started. I pushed the curtain aside and crawled into the bathtub, sliding it back quickly into place behind me. My heart was pounding out of my chest. Sweat was dripping down my face. I had never felt this helpless. I have never been so scared in my life. I hid my head between my knees and prayed, like all atheists do when they lose all sense of control.
Minutes passed, but it felt like hours. I was trapped in my mind, analyzing the situation. That person I saw across the street at the party. Could it be the same person? Was this planned? Or was that just a coincidence? My house was a half hour away from that party. Not to mention it was also across a bridge in another state. He would have had to tail us and follow us all the way back, which seemed way too unlikely. In that moment, I decided that it was just a coincidence that that happened tonight and that it was a separate instance. Still, the possibility of the two happenings being related lingered in my mind.
My concentration broke when I heard my phone vibrating on the hard wood floor in my room. It must have been my dad, because it started vibrating again not too soon after it stopped. And then it happened again. And again. This continued for the rest of the night. My phone's vibration was pretty loud, especially in contrast to the wooden floor. I sat in the dark alone with no signs of there being anything else going on in the world than what was happening to me right now, and only the humming of my phone filling in the hallow walls. I prayed that the phone wasn't loud enough to draw attention to my bedroom. The night outside was quiet. It was one of those nights that you would feel was too quiet if you gave it some thought. I felt like I was in one of those horror movies. I was a giant cliché and I was scared. Would he find me? Would I die if he did?
The front door slammed open and I heard orders being barked out by what could only be policemen. They were searching the house. I heard footsteps rushing upstairs, and voices coming from my brother's room right next to mine. Not too long after, my door opened. Safety wrapped it's hands around my heart. I was safe. I heard footsteps walking towards the bathroom door, and when it opened, I never felt so relieved in my life. White light engulfed the bathroom for a moment, before the light switch turned on. My shower curtain flung open and I looked up higher to see a man in a police uniform with a gun pointed at me. I smiled, full of relief.
"Put your hands up!!" a police officer shouted.
I did as they said.
"Put your hands up!!!" he repeated, more urgently.
I rose my hands higher and looked him in the eye.
He wasn't looking at me.
I turned my head to the left. There was a man standing next to me in the shower. He was holding a knife and he had the craziest, twisted, most frightening grin I had ever seen. His eyes were wide. They seemed to be full of joy, of excitement. Of thrill. Chills ran over my body as safety released it's loving arms from my heart.
What happened next is something I'll never forget, even if I tried. He lunged towards me, screaming, pointing the knife at my chest. I closed my eyes, prepared to die, and screamed in fear back. And then my arms rose, in an attempt to protect me. My face turned the opposite direction. It was a natural reaction, something I didn't give any conscious thought of doing. The rest of my body was frozen. Suddenly a gunshot fired and a metallic clank echoed against the tiles. I felt a slight breeze against my face and I heard the sound of something else I couldn't distinguish collapse. For a moment I was stunned. Then my face felt warmer than it had since I got home. I opened my eyes and ran the back of my hand against my cheek. I looked at my scarlet fingers in horror. I was covered in blood. I broke down and began to cry. The police officer looked at me with pain in his eyes as I sank my head between my knees.
He let me cry until I couldn't cry anymore. He didn't try to comfort me. He just let me process the events on my own. I could tell she cared, though. He stayed with me in the bathroom while the other police officers left my bedroom. The man who broke into my house was still beside me. He fell and broke the curtain's rod. His face rested against the toilet. I turned my head, resting my temple against my knee and looked his direction. His face was covered in the blood that continued to run from the wound on his forehead. His eyes were empty. He was a shell of a being. His eyes had blood in them too. I continued to gaze into his empty eyes. I had never seen death before today. He was smiling.
"Why?" I asked him.
The police officer turned to my direction and walked over. I looked toward him. He had a sympathetic expression written on his face. "Some people do things for no reason at all." he finally said. I accepted his answer and looked again at the man.
My brain began to process these events in a way I didn't think was really possible for someone in my position. I wanted to know who this man was. I wanted to know what he did for a living. I wanted to know everything I could find out about him. I wanted to know about the man whose blood covered me. I wanted to know the man with the empty eyes.
Finally, I stood. The policeman looked at me, confused, as I lifted my leg out of the tub and began to walk back to my bedroom. My phone was lying on the floor, a few feet away from my bed. I picked it up. I had 42 missed calls from my dad, with the most recent one being twenty minutes ago. He must have been contacted and told about what happened. I put my phone in my pocket and turned back towards my bathroom and walked in.
"Can you give me a minute alone please? I asked.
He nodded. "I'll be out in the hall."
When he left, I shut the door. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone and opened the camera app and began to take pictures of the room around me. I wasn't sure why. I asked myself why I was doing this, because even I didn't know. I was losing my mind. I was scared again. "Some people do things for no reason at all." was what the policeman said, and it was that statement which brought me some comfort. When I finally reached the toilet in my pictures, all of my attention was focused on the man. I must have taken at least twenty pictures of the man alone, many of them focused on his empty eyes. When I felt I had enough, I locked my phone and put it back into my pocket. I opened the door, closing it behind me and walked towards the hall.
As I reached the hallway, the front door opened. It was my father. I looked at him, and he looked back at me. In a moment, I felt like a little boy again. I ran towards him and he began to run towards me. When we met, he grabbed me in his arms and embraced me. My pain fled my body.
"I love you." he said.
"I love you too."
"I'm so glad you're okay."
My dad let go and stared at me. At my face. My bloody face. My dad turned his attention to the officer standing behind me. He nodded, rubbed his hand through my hair, and walked toward him. They walked into my bedroom together. I walked towards the front door, where my brother was standing. He was staring at me too. Slowly, he walked towards me. His hand rose, and he rubbed it against my cheek. He was crying. "What happened?" he asked.
I opened my mouth to speak, and in that moment, I heard a loud scream coming from my bedroom. I ran down the hall and into my room. Nobody was there. My bathroom door was open. My dad was on the floor. He was holding the man in his arms. He was crying.
My heart sank into my chest again. The man who almost killed me was someone my father knew. Not only knew, he was someone my father knew well enough to cause him to cry.
"Dad?" I asked, slowly walking towards him.
He looked up, but quickly turned his attention back to the man.
"Why are you crying?"
He didn't answer.
"Dad?"