His Eyes

It is not uncommon, for me at least, to have women looking at me at bars. I like to describe myself as a player after all, so the women should be flocking to me like geese after a piece of bread. It is another thing entirely when a man starts to stare at me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not homophobic or anything, but it just creeps me out when a guy stares at me. Starts looking at me like a piece of meat. So when I caught this dark haired skinny pale guy staring at me, my instinct was to tell him off.

“Oy, freak, what you want?” I stormed over as the two girls who were beside me parted so I could confront him, “You see something funny?” I could hear the girls giggling behind me, the ladies ate this sort of dominance up.

“Nothing funny,” His voice was firm, confident, “I just wanted to see how long it took you to pay attention to anything besides yourself.” I heard a faint snort behind me, as though his joke landed for someone, which was totally bizarre. I, for all intents and purposes, owned this damn club and he was over here trying to make me look bad in front of the women.

“What did you say to me?” I moved closer, puffing myself up slightly as I came up to him and grabbed his shirt collar, his unfinished martini sloshing as I lifted him.

“I say it won’t work,” He kept his gaze firm on me, on my eyes, “I am not intimidated by violence.”

I believed him, he didn’t flinch, even when he started to reek of gin as the drink spilled all over him. There was no fear in his eyes, only concentration. As the crowd started to gather he gave me a smirk like a devil.

“It’s getting rather noisy in here, don’t you agree?” His eyes were drilling into mine now to the point that I dropped him and nodded, “Good, now let’s go and settle this like gentlemen.”

He lead the way and I followed, he seemed like the honorable sort. I like that in a guy, honor is just another word for respect and since respect is what gets you credit nowadays, he would probably be alright too. Crackling each of my knuckles individually, we made our way toward the back parking lot.

“Right, no funny stuff, just fists,” I covered my left fist with my right hand as I prepared myself. I used to be a boxer, at least as a kid, but now I just use those skills for these sort of beat downs.

“I am not fighting you,” He gave a calm look as he glanced at those that followed, “Sorry, no beatdown tonight, we’re just going to talk.” His raised voice was heard over the soft groans of those who had already started to place bets. I glared at him as the crowd dispersed.

“What’s the matter with you, you queer or something?”

“No Dominic Monroe, I just know that if you got a punch from me, you’d be no good for what I’d want you for.”

He knew my name. The sick freak knew my name.

“How in the-”

“I’ve been watching you for some time, and I intended to watch you for longer but now that you’ve noticed me,” His lips curled into that smile, “I guess it will have to happen sooner.”

“What do you mean by that?” I looked around, seems everyone had left me behind. Assholes couldn’t be bothered to stick around to see if a fight broke out anyway. Taking this creeper’s word over what was in front of their faces. It all felt wrong, people usually were with me on my side. Even at night, I always had a lady in my arms when I went back to my apartment. To be alone, with this man, set my teeth on edge. I glanced back at him and he was gone. Disappeared. I shook my head and walked back toward the club when I saw him out of the corner of my eye. Confused, I turned around again.

“The hell do you want?” I shouted to...no one. He had disappeared again. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I spoke firmly, “Listen, I don’t have time for your fucking queer ass games, I got shit to do.”

“Only in the older sense of the word,” he whispered behind me, “Strange, unusual...queer. Yet I assume you didn’t know that interpretation existed.”

I jumped out of my skin to face him, knife out, no need for nice with this faggot trying to mess with my head. He was in front of me, but paler than before. Only time I saw that pale was when my grandma died and I had found her. No life, nothing. His eyes though, there was nothing in them. Just...oblivion that reached out to you. I dropped my knife then as there was a call for me to follow him.

I barely remember the next few days, you gotta understand, I wasn’t high on nothing and I don’t know what he did to me. I just remember his eyes, officer. His eyes called to me. Please, get the son of a bitch who-!

“Alright Mr. Monroe that’s enough,” A rather young blonde nurse stood beside the sickly man’s bed, “I think you’ve gotten enough excitement. Detective Perez, I think my patient is in need of some rest.”

“Thank you, Mr. Monroe,” Perez stood up, her brown curls pulled back into a tight bun, “If you remember anything else, let us know. We may also need you to talk with a sketch artist.”

The man had already fallen asleep, Dominic Monroe, having been missing for a week was found on the sidewalk near the local elementary school. He had lost a lot of blood and had various tiny nicks and cuts all over his body along with needle marks. The man was lucky that a group of local kids was passing through the area in order to investigate the allegedly haunted house on the end of the block. Perez smiled at that, she’d run around that area as a kid too. Thankfully she never discovered a man nearly dead on the sidewalk.

“What do you think Perez?” Her partner, a surprisingly large man for a cop named Moromoto, glanced at her, “Pretty fucked up, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, something doesn’t add up,” She glanced at her phone, “I mean, haven’t heard anything like this before.”

“I have, five years ago, before you signed on,” He sipped his coffee as they hopped into the car, “Found a dead guy who looked like that.”

“I didn’t hear anything on the news.”

“Boss doesn’t let those stories leak out, mayor’s orders.”

“Mayor’s...what?”

“It’s really fucked up,” Moromoto downed his drink and tossed it between his legs, “There are usually a couple every few years, it’s like the guy goes after these men, then takes a nap for 4 or so years and then comes back.”

“Moromoto, stop trashing the car,” She sighed as she continued onto the station, “So, it’s like the Grim Sleeper then?”

“Na, that guy had a way longer break,” He reluctantly picked up the cup and put into the grocery bag that Perez had designated the garbage bag, “This one seems to wake up a little more. So more like the Blood Sucking Napper.”

“Charming,” She shook her head as she pulled into a parking spot, “Any suspects?”

“Na, and in fact, the fact we got a witness at all is rare,” He grunted as he shut the car door with a loud slam, “I think this might be the only survivor.”

"Lucky man.”

“Didn’t seem too lucky to me.”

Later in the evening, as Perez sat at her desk going over the various bits of evidence, contradictions kept coming up of Monroe’s statement. While it was true that he was reported missing, the argument at the Hidden Pleasures nightclub did not show up on CC-TV when she reviewed the tapes. Sure Monroe himself was in them, eight days ago, and it showed him just storming out and a group of people following, then ten minutes later the group came back in but Monroe had not. He was not seen the rest of the night by any of the cameras, even though he said they were in the back parking lot, the one that had about a twenty miles of trees beyond it. This case was just weird no matter how many ways you diced it. Perez stretched, giving an echoing yawn that only the department’s computers could hear, as she left the building.

She heard a rustling behind her as she crossed the parking lot toward her car. Instinctively Perez turned around, yet there was nothing there.

“Fucking case is fucking with my head…” She muttered as she turned back.

Her eyes looked directly into his; the deep dark abyss dragging her fearful soul into them.