The Eyes He Missed

Dr. Nathaniel Burke hid behind a large vase to observe Leander. He has to inform him of the recent observation he made regarding that woman which may or may not be taken well by Leander. It is not technically sad news for Leander per se but considering the way Leander acts for the past couple of days, he is not sure of anything anymore.

For some reason, Leander does not like the idea of shifting that woman to another room where she can recover peacefully. She "must" sleep on his bed for some reason only he knows. And he refuses to sleep elsewhere and insists on sleeping next to her.

Even an accident involving the urine collection bag didn't change his mind. He still insisted he'd sleep on the same bed as her. Granted, that bed is large and even three adults can sleep freely on it. But still…

Nathaniel sighed. What would he know? He wouldn't sleep by his wife's side if she is that sick. It's not good for recovery.

But Leander can be… well, Leander—headstrong and adamant.

It's been two days since he's seen his daughter and she is missing him terribly. That woman is not improving a bit. She is not even breathing properly, and every time Leander asks him 'When is she waking up?' with an impatient tone, he is stepping into the gates of hell.

That woman is still sleeping, not caring for anything. And maybe she is turning sicker. It seems like he will never leave this scary house alive.

That being said, he didn't know why Leander is currently leaning on his bedroom door for the past ten minutes. Usually, he never wastes time. He stayed in his room looking at that woman whenever he is free.

Nathaniel saw something glint on Leander's hand. It probably is a kitchen knife. He wondered if he is planning on eating fruit.

And at regular intervals Leander is…

*BANG*

This…

Nathaniel pressed his lips hearing Leander banging his head on the door once more. Leander has been doing that for the past ten minutes.

Who knows what is wrong with him?

Nathaniel decided to leave and return later for his safety.

-----

Leander gathered his thoughts and walked in with the knife. He had contemplated enough. That woman who has hurt his mother and made him lie to his family should die.

He couldn't believe it as he could not bring himself to kill her. Something stopped him from stepping into his room to do what he decided to do.

Her eyes and her beautiful voice calling him 'Leo'… They haunted him. Like invisible threads, they bound him to the floor, eroding his will.

Well, that, and…there is another reason even he didn't want to admit.

No one would believe it when he says it. But he rarely does anything against his heart. Maybe that is the chain that is weighing around his legs stopping him from entering his room.

Right now, his mind and heart were at war.

He knew what to do whenever he faced a such conundrum. He'd think of what would be best for his family. And thinking about the ones he loved the chains around his legs started to loosen.

He stepped inside his room and took in a deep breath. His eyes ended up on the bed. He gripped the knife tightly. For her, he chose the least painful and fastest method—severing her jugular vein and carotid artery.

It's a lot messy, and he hated to get his hands bloodied. But it is fitting considering how she is happy wielding a blade. It would be tragically poetic, painless, and… far more intimate that putting a bullet through her brain.

In her final moments, she would be in the embrace of the man she hates the most. What's more poetic than that?

'Well, she wouldn't know, would she?' He scoffed at the thought in his head. 'How mighty of me to brag about killing an unconscious woman!'

He's killed a lot. He never gave mercy to women either. But this time he had to go against his heart. It is terribly hard. And he will do it nonetheless, for the sake of his family.

With steady steps, he got closer to her. He emptied his mind, not thinking about anything. Because if he thinks, he will remember those eyes; he cannot let his heart win.

He moved the tubes that were connected to her. He then straddled on top of her resting his weight on his knees.

She is unconscious, but what if she woke up in the middle of…

He gulped and his hands shook as he removed the oxygen concentration mask from her face. She won't need it; she is going to die. He positioned himself properly so that he does not sink his weight on her.

She already can't breathe properly and with his added weight she would only suffer more—so thought the guy who decided not to think, and the one who is planning on killing her.

He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms so as to finish it properly. He removed the IVs connected to her veins. In case she struggled, he didn't want her to hurt her hands. He also tucked her hands into her torso and pressed them against his thighs. He pressed his hand on her forehead to position her; he will need a clear view of her neck if he wants to make it the least painful for her.

For someone who decided not to think, he put a lot of thought into making her feel comfortable as he killed her.

He double-checked and made sure that nothing will go wrong. All he has to do now is to cut her throat. Clenching his jaws, he placed the knife right under her ear. He could see the pumping artery and he could hear her heart racing.

Her heart? It can't be!

Ah, well… It was not her heart. It was the sound of his heart that was pounding in his ears.

He pressed the knife on her skin.

She has gained some color from how she was two days ago. She looked yellowish. It was not close to the same liveliness he saw on her on that ledge. Her lips were slightly parted and a little of her lily-white teeth was visible. Without the oxygen concentration mask, she started to breathe deeply for air, and a layer of perspiration formed on her forehead, like little dew drops on the daffodils on an early spring morning…

'Yellow! She is yellow! Is she jaundiced?'

Leander panicked. He tried to get his phone to call Nathaniel, and, in his hurry, he twisted the muscles of his left shoulder. He winced in pain. He reached out his right hand to rub on his wound to soothe the pain and only then he realized that he is holding a knife—to kill her.

He need not worry if she is jaundiced. He is going to kill her!

Once again, he pressed the knife to her neck.

One…Two… Three…

He counted in his heart.

…Seventeen…Eighteen…

He kept on counting.

…Eighty-one… Eighty-two…

The knuckles of his hand that was clutching the knife had turned white. And he was counting. Maybe he will sink that knife into her throat once he counted up to a hundred.

And counting, he did.

…Four hundred and seventy-one… Four hundred and seventy-two…

His knees went tired after kneeling on the bed for a long. And pressing her forehead with his left hand had pulled the muscles of his left arm. He had by now memorized every little detail of her quaint little face. He only wanted to see only one more detail… Her irises. He remembered them to be very intoxicating, like wine.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember them once more. He hated that he almost forgot it in just a couple of days.

He was still counting as he waited to reach a thousand.

…Seven hundred and two…seven hundred and three…

"Hmm…"

He opened his eyes to the moan he heard from under him. His eyes went straight to his left hand as he could feel the little squirm.

*BAM*

He didn't have to imagine the irises he saw a couple of days before in that morning sun no more. Those enchanting dark onyx eyes were looking straight at him, into his soul. His heart skipped a beat.

"Who a-re-"

Her voice broke and she coughed. He retreated his hand and blinked his eyes to ensure that he is not tripping. Her eyebrows furrowed in pain and her eyes watered.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice still hoarse and dry.