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THE KILLER’S EYES SNAPPED open. The room was bathed in darkness with the exception of the red glow of his alarm clock. His breathing became rapid and fear caused his heart to pound furiously in his chest. He sat up and turned on the lamp by his bed.
He let out a sigh of relief as he surveyed the room. He feared the ghosts of his victims were watching him sleep once again. Relief washed over him as he confirmed that he was alone.
He got out of bed and went into his special room. After unlocking the door, he looked at his special possessions. They were all there.
He checked the top shelf to make sure her eyes were still there as well. The dark, gelatinous orbs bobbed in the filmy liquid. He let out a sigh of relief.
A voice whispered in his ear, “I knew you would check on me tonight. You can’t stay away from me can you? You love me too much even now. You are such a pathetic excuse of a man!”
Her voice seared deep into his brain as he shouted at her, “Shut up!”
She moved closer to him, “My poor pitiful son, you will never be rid of me. Let me see what new trophies you obtained. I know you want to show them to your mother. Don’t you want to hear how proud I am of you?”
“I don’t need you anymore, Mother. There is nothing you can say that will make me want you in my life.” He slammed the door shut and locked it.
He made sure that the door was secure before leaving the room. He chanted to himself, “She’s dead now. She can’t hurt you anymore.” How was she able to talk to him after he removed her nagging tongue? He removed her eyes as well and yet she still saw everything he did, they all could. Maybe, he could be rid of her if he flushed them down the toilet. If only he could find the strength to dispose of them. Instead, he kept them securely locked away.
He passed by the dreaded closet, confirming that it remained boarded up. A shudder of fear snaked down his spine as he recalled the times he’d spent in that closet. She had enjoyed locking him in the darkness. She left him for days at a time in the darkness and peered at him through the narrow slot she had cut out in the door. Her dark evil eyes had stared at him through the opening. He grew to hate those eyes as they looked at him with disgust and loathing. He still remembered the maliciousness of her voice as she whispered through the slot in the door.
“Have the voices left you? Can you see them coming to you?”
He pled for her to let him out or to turn on the light, but her eyes just glared at him with hatred instead. Her footsteps echoed through the house as she left him alone once more. All he had were the ghosts that sought him out for companionship.
After several days, he broke down and swore he wouldn’t talk to the spirits. The hunger that gnawed at his stomach or the burning thirst in his throat would become unbearable. He forsook his only friends for the necessities of life. When the loneliness became overwhelming, he started talking to the ghosts once again. He tried to keep it hidden from his mother, but she always knew when he welcomed them back into his life, as if she had some connection to them. She then punished him once more.
He refused to be put in that hellhole of a closet anymore. After his mother’s death, he boarded up the small closet. He never wanted to worry about anyone ever locking him in that closet ever again. There was nothing but fear, despair and darkness to keep you company in that room.
The one thing he learned from his mother was patience. After all, it took patience to plan and wait for the opportune moment to kill. He laughed at the thought of his mother actually teaching him anything. That had never been her intent in life. Her cruelty, though, helped him become the man he was now.
He paced the floor of the old house as he tried to calm his emotions. Raw energy pulsed through his body and refused to let him go back to bed. Hatred and fear subsided as other emotions took over his body. It was time to hunt.