Eyes of the Void By Sanela Ramic Jurich
“Hey, Sammy!” Laura yelled through the open window of Neal’s old Camry, while Neal honked the horn and screeched to a stop right in front of me. Their cheerful mood made me chuckle and forget they were forty-five minutes late—though my frozen toes reminded me I was pretty upset about it.
They offered me a ride to school since my car was in the shop again. I wasn’t thrilled about it, knowing they tended to run late, but I didn’t have much choice other than to accept and pretend to be grateful.
It was a beautiful October morning—colorful and sunny, the kind of perfect day that made everything feel right, unless you were stuck outside in the same spot for forty-five minutes. The chill in the air and my frozen toes were clear reminders that fall was quickly giving way to winter. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
“Sorry we’re late. Neal had to stop by his dad’s shop first,” Laura said, glancing at Neal and wiggling her eyebrows.
“What’s that about?” I asked, curious.
Neal smirked. “Nothing. Laura talks too much, sometimes.”
“Oh, come on, Neal! It’s just Sammy—she won’t tell, will you, Samantha?” Laura teased.
“Tell what?” I asked, still clueless about their inside joke.
Laura chuckled. “Neal’s dad’s shop—his liquor shop.” She raised an eyebrow like I should have connected the dots by now.
I shrugged, still not understanding. She sighed dramatically.
“Neal’s dad owns a liquor shop. Neal’s been… uh, borrowing bottles and selling them at school. You really didn’t know?”
My eyes widened as I glanced into the trunk and saw rows of alcohol bottles. Neal chuckled at my shocked expression.
“Welcome to the club,” Neal said. “What would you like? First one’s on the house.”
“Um… we’re already late. We should probably get going,” I said, my voice hesitant as I made a mental note to talk sense into Laura later.
“Suit yourself,” Laura said, grabbing a cherry-flavored drink. Neal popped open a beer.
“Cheers,” they said in unison, laughing.
“You’re not really going to drink and drive, are you?” I asked, alarmed. I knew they were free spirits, but this felt like a step too far.
Neal smirked, chugging his beer as if to mock my concern.
Laura smiled, noticing the look on my face. “Relax, Sammy We’re not getting drunk. Just a little fun before school.”
I hesitated but climbed into the backseat, telling myself Neal was sober enough to drive. It was early in the morning, and I figured the half a beer he had wouldn’t do much. Still, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
As they chatted about the upcoming school dance, I stared out the window, lost in thought, wondering how I could convince Laura that Neal wasn’t exactly the best influence. But before I could figure out how to bring it up, everything changed in an instant.
Neal’s car swerved, tires screeching. Laura screamed, and Neal cursed. I saw a man’s face—too close, too fast—before we hit him with a sickening thud. The car jolted as we rolled over something hard, like a speed bump.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Laura screamed, her voice trembling.
“Neal, did we just hit that guy?!” I cried, panic rising in my chest. “We have to stop!”
Neal kept driving.
“Stop the car!” I shouted, shaking his shoulder from the backseat. Neal slammed on the brakes.
“Get out,” he growled, his voice shaking as he stared at me. His face was pale, drenched in sweat, and Laura sat frozen beside him, as white as a ghost.
Without a second thought, I bolted out of the car, my phone already in my hand. I dialed 9-1-1 as I sprinted toward the man we had hit.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Someone’s been hit by a car—please, hurry!”
A few feet away, I saw a young girl standing in shock, her hand over her mouth. She must have seen the whole thing.
“Hello? Are you still there?” the operator’s voice broke through my thoughts.
“Y-yes. We’re at the corner of State and Bookmen. Please, hurry,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“Is he moving?” the operator asked.
“No… he’s not. I think he’s dead.” My voice cracked as I said the words.
“Please, calm down. Can you check if he’s still alive?” she asked gently.
I hesitated, too scared to get closer. But then, the girl stepped forward, kneeling beside the man. She placed two fingers on his neck, then looked up at me and shook her head. No pulse.
I was about to tell the operator when something terrifying happened—the man opened his eyes.
At first, I felt a glimmer of relief. But as I stepped closer, I noticed something was wrong. His eyes—they were completely black. No whites, no pupils. Just… black.
“Um,” I stammered into the phone. “He just opened his eyes, but they look… wrong. They’re all black.”
“What do you mean?” the operator asked.
“Blacker than black! His whole eye—everything is black!” I screamed.
The girl beside the man looked at him in confusion, likely hearing my panicked words. As she leaned in closer, the man suddenly sat up, his dead, black eyes locking onto mine. They were dull, lifeless, and filled with pure evil.
The girl panicked, trying to pull away, but before she could even move, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist with inhuman speed.
“It’s actually quite simple,” the woman on the other end of the phone continued, completely oblivious to the horror unfolding. “Pupils can change size depending on emotions, which affects the appearance of eye color. Anger or fear can cause the pupils to dilate, creating that effect. The man is probably in pain—he might not even realize he has internal injuries. You need to tell him not to move; help is on the way.”
My breathing quickened, fear coursing through me. Run, my brain screamed, but my body remained frozen.
Suddenly, the girl’s scream ripped through the air, cutting through the calm, shaking me to the core. I watched in horror as the man pulled her closer, his grip iron-tight, and began chewing on her face. She flailed and screamed, trying to fight him off, but he didn’t even flinch—he just continued gnawing at her as if she were nothing more than prey.
In seconds, her screams stopped, her body going limp. The silence that followed was deafening.
The man slowly turned his head, his pitch-black eyes locking onto mine.
Run!
I bolted, my legs pumping as fast as they could. I didn’t look back. My lungs burned, my heart pounded, and my thoughts raced. Branches scratched at my arms and legs as I dove into a thick bush, ignoring the sting as the leaves and twigs tore at my skin. My body trembled as I crouched down, trying to make myself as small as possible.
I didn’t even realize I was still clutching my phone until I heard the operator’s voice, now muffled.
“Listen,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “The guy… he chewed off that girl’s face.”
There was a pause, then the operator responded, sounding exasperated. “You’re making no sense. This has to be a prank call. I’m hanging up.”
“No, please, you have to believe me! He chewed her face off!” I repeated, tears streaming down my cheeks.
As the words left my mouth, I heard a soft rustling nearby. My breath hitched in my throat. I scanned the area, my heart racing, only to spot a squirrel scurrying through the leaves. I let out a shaky breath, feeling a wave of relief.
I had run far enough, hadn’t I? There was no way that man could find me now.
Maybe I had imagined it all. Maybe I was having some kind of breakdown. My mind was spinning—could it be an aneurysm? Like that guy on TV who hallucinated? As terrifying as that thought was, I decided it was better than the alternative: being chased by a demon-eyed man who devoured human flesh.
I forced myself to calm down. There was no way that scene was real. Of course, the 9-1-1 operator didn’t believe me. I barely believed me.
Just as I began to convince myself that it had all been a twisted figment of my imagination, a sharp, stabbing pain exploded in my head. I gasped, clutching my temples as warmth trickled down my face.
No. This wasn’t an aneurysm.
I had been found.
Cold sweat drenched my skin, and dread seeped into every bone in my body. There was no escaping this.
Then, I felt the teeth—gnawing into my skull, sending a wave of paralyzing pain through me.
And in that moment of agony, realization hit me.
I knew him. This was the man I had met once before, the one who—
Everything went black.
Lights out. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs b—
To be continued…
© Sanela Ramic Jurich. All rights reserved.