Eyes. The eyes are the most terrifying organ in human beings. With just one look, you can know everything that's happening, what the person is thinking, what's going on, everything. If they look at you for even a second, you know someone is watching you.
To feel someone looking at you is to feel someone paying attention to you. Their attention must mean something. They expect something from you. That's why they look at you. They're looking for reactions. They're looking for stimulation.
Just one look can change everything. Lifting your head is useless if your eyes keep looking down. That's why it's so scary.
Let everything depend on them. Let you know that someone is watching you. Let you know that thousands are watching you.
It's as if every glance is another weight. Another burden. They all have expectations of you. They all wait for you.
No matter how much you move, those eyes won't leave. No matter how much you run, those eyes will always see you.
Even your own eyes expect something from you. They burden you with expectations, with your own dreams, with your own hopes.
The eyes are also the only ones that can calm you. Not even a thousand words will soothe you more than crying. When someone can't express their pain in words, they do it in tears. In crying.
But it's something you have to control. Crying when you have words to say is a hasty search for calm and affection.
Longing for that relief after crying is the purpose of tears. But sometimes they just ruin everything.
Breaking your composure like that is sometimes worse than the reason you're crying. Also, sometimes, there's no specific reason to cry. You feel that way, and your body forces you to cry, even if you don't want to. Even if it's not the right time. Crying can break you instead of heal you.
That the eyes have so much power is something fearsome.
It is the opposite of what human beings always seek.
It is the power to break.
That water that comforts you at the same time can-
...
Water?
Thirst.
After thinking about what I wanted to do, I left that trance, that pointless reflection I was in. I sighed, annoyed with my own needs.
"...I guess I'll go down to the kitchen."
I could have gone to the upstairs bathroom, which is also across from my room, but I wanted to drink cold water. I'd have to go to the fridge.
I opened the door to my room. Even though the bathroom was right in front of me, I was going down there just on a whim.
To the right of the hallway were the steps to the kitchen, to my left…
...there was nothing.
It was such a dark black that I doubted it was actually black. Could this be what people without eyes see? Is it so infuriating?
I couldn't take my eyes off her. I wanted to go to her. I wanted to let her consume me. I could still see that door. Her door.
I got distracted.
I wanted to go, run toward it, and open it. The abyss in front of me was nothing if I could see my goal at the end. All I need is to see.
He who cannot see the goal cannot achieve his objective.
What is a goal without purpose, after all?
I took a step forward. The moment I did, the moment I touched that intense black, a certain stickiness took away the sensation from my foot.
They were tentacles, no, they were whips, maybe both. The tentacles robbed me of sensation, and the whips confirmed it, lashing at my foot mercilessly.
I couldn't feel my foot, but I could feel the pain of each blow. It wasn't hitting my skin, it was hitting my nerves directly.
I couldn't back down. Not feeling something is irrelevant. Feeling pain is what human beings are condemned to.
If this slight stinging were to scare me away, I'd amount to nothing in life. I have to be strong, because the world is strong too.
Another step.
The first time, I avoided putting any part of my body in other than my foot, but now I didn't care.
Almost my entire body was enclosed in thick darkness. As if part of me was still unsure, I left my right arm outside.
The first thing I felt when I entered was how the black tentacles wrapped around all the parts I had put inside.
My other arm, my legs, my chest. I felt those cold, slimy tentacles resting on and clinging to my body.
It didn't take long for me to lose all sense of it. My senses were intact, but much of my body was asleep.
As soon as I stopped feeling, something much worse immediately came.
Whips. Whips that hit me continuously, all over. On the least sensitive sides of my body, deprived of sensation.
Pain. Stinging. Pressure.
I didn't know if I was moving. I lost feeling in my right arm the moment I put it in.
'Pain,' was all my body could think about. But I ignored all those signals. They were nothing.
The door, I had to get to the door. I was convinced I had to.
The first mistake I made was questioning that goal.
'Why do I want to go through the door?' I hesitated. I couldn't give an answer.
No matter how visible it was, it was no longer my focus. Pain. Pain. Pain.
It wasn't spanking anymore, it wasn't beatings. Pain. Pure pain. It was as if someone had grabbed my nerves and made a punching bag out of them.
I also couldn't feel where I was coming from. I couldn't feel my body in the first place, so I couldn't tell if I was actually moving forward.
I only know this because the door is slowly approaching. If I think about moving my arm forward, even if I don't feel it, it appears, slightly blocking the light emitted by the door.
I was moving slowly. Every second that passed, I questioned what I was doing.
I should turn around, it's not worth it, I thought, but if it was all this was, I could go on holding on.
My second and final mistake was listening to those thoughts. It happened halfway through the trip.
For a moment, I turned my head to look back. I considered abandoning what I was doing.
The rest of the hallway had disappeared. There was only darkness behind me. Darkness in which eyes resided.
Now you know they exist, now they know of your existence . It wasn't pain anymore. It was weight, pressure.
I tried to turn around again, to focus on my goal, but I'd already looked, they'd already seen my eyes.
I couldn't suppress it. A loud noise pulled me off my target. All I could think about was what my ears and eyes were receiving.
Static. First it was static. It was so loud I couldn't even hear my voice.
All I had left were my sight and hearing, and one of them was already overloaded. I couldn't move. I could clearly see the door at the end of the hallway, but I didn't dare move forward.
No, I couldn't do it. The moment I turned around, the door stopped mattering to me.
The static faded, but not to give me time to catch up. What could be worse than an annoying noise?
Voices.
'A monster!' 'It was all your fault!' 'You'd be better off dead.' 'You don't deserve anything!' 'Apologize to the people who knew you!'
They had a serious, authoritarian tone. I could feel all those voices coming from above, a place I could never reach.
They had no emotions other than anger. They screamed, they barked, whatever crossed their minds was the first thing they'd say.
They all overlapped each other. They didn't give each other time to talk; it was like a riot, like a fight between them.
Still, I could understand what each one was saying, I knew what they were saying, and to whom they were saying it, and why they were saying it.
It was unbearable. No one should be able to endure this, to live with this.
In the corners of my eyes, I could see more eyes appearing, opening one by one. They all had completely black irises. It was the same shade as the surroundings.
I'd been through this before. Thousands of stares consuming me in a tunnel with no end, no hope.
I'd already been through it, but it was of no use to me. I was powerless. I had nothing I could do.
I could only endure. Endure uselessly until I broke.
'Conceited child!' 'Sinner!' 'Savage!' 'Failure!'
Each voice, unique from the rest, had something different to say. They made me nervous, stressed.
I want to leave. I don't want to be like this anymore. I can't be like this anymore. Why don't I break?
I want to break. So I can rest. I'll stop thinking. I'll stop feeling. This is too much.
I don't want to open the door. I don't care anymore, I don't want to. What would I do anyway?
There's nothing there that interests me , not anymore.
As soon as I gave up, everything went back to normal.
I didn't give it much thought. For my own good, I didn't give it any thought.
I turned around and went to the bathroom first, going down the stairs and through the entrance.
It's a small bathroom. There's no shower here, so I only go when I'm already downstairs and want to use the bathroom.
It would be a hassle to have to go upstairs to the bathroom, so that's why there's one downstairs. It's not better, it's objectively worse, but it's still appreciated.
No matter how much someone is worth, if that's even a thing, everyone can be important in the right place.
" Heh, then what am I, if I don't even achieve anything in my best positions?"
Just as I thought, after finishing in the bathroom, I headed to the kitchen. The refrigerator was right in front of the door, so I didn't have to walk to it.
As I opened it, I considered, just for a moment, making dinner. I rejected the idea and thought about grabbing something quick to eat. I rejected that too.
After taking the pitcher out of the fridge, I grabbed a glass of water from one of the kitchen cupboards and poured it on myself.
I don't usually feel this way, but I feel conscious. Everything seems so slow. Normally, I wouldn't do this so carefully. By now, I'd have already spilled the water.
I stared into the glass. I can't see my reflection. Everything is so transparent. It calms me, even though it doesn't contribute anything.
Am I trying to distract myself with this? I guess it's easier to think about this than that...
When am I speaking and when am I thinking? Do I think out loud, or do I speak in my head?
I don't even know why these questions come up... What does this have to do with anything? I'm not going to justify anything with something so-
Lost in my head, I could hear the front door open. It didn't take me a second to realize who it was. Only someone could have come in here.
He didn't show it on the outside, but inside, fear began to well up. He didn't want to drink water anymore. He was clutching the glass tightly out of sheer inertia.
A deeper than usual and slightly angry voice could be heard in the hallway.
"Are you in the kitchen? If you are, come to the living room…"
And then, in a more serious tone…
"...Now."
...made the hair on my arms stand up.