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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1752865-Eyes-chapter-1
Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Mystery · #1752865
A seventeen year old boy can see the time people are going to die.
Chapter 1

“Come on!” he screamed.

         I heard his voice, but couldn’t see his face in the mists of all the trouble. It was like my mind was purposefully blocking the image of my best friend running through an alley trying to escape the police. I thought it was normal, didn’t know anything besides stealing. It just felt so good having a product that was not mine in the palms of my hands.  At that moment I was in the warehouse looking at the rows of DVD’s that haven’t been distributed into stores yet. How popular would I be if I would get my hands on the new Harry Potter DVD without it even being released into the stores? I questioned myself for a moment though I knew my best friend was calling for me. My best friend who seemed not to matter to me at all. My best friend that could have been my enemy if I had not attracted the habit of stealing. I took a deep breath staggering through the warehouse.

         The sirens were ringing in my ears.

         I couldn’t let anything happen that would get him into trouble. I had to use myself as a distraction as he escaped. The police wouldn’t know who was my partner, or who’s partner I was until I finally spilled out the information. I was a stupid kid. At ten years old I didn’t know what I was doing besides trying to steal things for a living then become popular. Popularity is what I thirsted for, it was almost like if I didn’t have an ounce of popularity I would be nothing to anyone, I thought like that because it was how I was raised to think. As if I was raised to be a criminal searching through things that weren’t mine.

         I tried to stop numerous times, but it was an addiction.

         Stealing that is.

         An addiction that I couldn’t break because I wasn’t going to be left alone in the dust while my best friend got anything and everything he wanted. I glanced around the warehouse, everything seemed so dark and gruesome. It was midnight, sirens were wailing in my ears. The red and blue lights illuminated the inside of the warehouse. Sooner or later the police would burst through the doors and catch me. Call me a criminal though I would protest against their calling me something I wasn’t.

         “Tobi come on!” he called again.

         I looked around; he was standing at the rear exit of the warehouse. He was two years older than me. A twelve year old that I respected so much. He was dressed in a black hoodie and blue jeans. He thought he was going to be the best criminal out there for the job. He thought he was going to be able to escape before the police got to him. He was going to be able to escape.

         “Leave without me!” I called.

         He looked at me, shaking his head as the police burst through the front door of the warehouse holding their guns and flashlights up. I crept into the shadows and pulled my black hoodie over my head. If I was lucky they wouldn’t spot me. If I was lucky I would get away with everything and not have to spit the truth out as if it were a poison that somehow found its way into my mouth. I curled up in the shadows, breathing heavily. I had to stop my breathing so heavy. They would get to me, the police weren’t’ my friends. They had told me differently in class, but they were wrong. The police were out to get me. They were my enemies.

         They were my…

         I was unlucky.

         An officer shined his light right over me. I was still breathing heavy, a silent tear dripped down my ghost white eyes. I felt my hood being yanked off my head so violently it reminded me of the time my friend had to protect me from a brutal dog encounter. I saw my friend flash before my eyes as the police officer with the ever so familiar hair cut and the brown eyes yank me to my feet.

         “What do you think you’re doing boy?” he asked with a grunt.

         I didn’t know how I was supposed to reply with everything happening all around me too fast. He was still holding my shirt, holding my life in his hands. I was a skinny little ten year old. Skin and bones where my friend was rather large, but he could run faster than me. I was out of shape; he was in shape and losing weight fast.

         “Tell me, what do you think you’re doing?”

         I still didn’t answer.

         The face brought an impression of fear into my mind. I wasn’t supposed to fear him; he was the local law enforcement. He was a police officer, he was supposed to protect me, not hold me by my shirt and demand an answer I didn’t even know.

         That was seven years ago.

         I am now seventeen. My name is Tobi Zane, I am the first born son of Madison Zane. I have an older sister, but I haven’t heard from her in years. My father is dead-for all I know. Everything around me seems to be a mystery and currently it is getting on my nerves. Doctors don’t know why my eyes are ghost white. Nobody does, I just want to figure it out you know… I just want to be normal and not currently be chased down by questions that I don’t know the answers to.

         “Tobi” Madison Zane said as she stopped the white Chevrolet Tahoe at the corner of New Orleans Street and Bourbon Street in Roland Texas. Madison Zane is my mother of course. She is tall and has black hair and green eyes. She is very pale from tanning too much as a kid and very skinny. Everyone at school thought my Mom was hot. It gets annoying hearing them talk about my Mom like they do, but in the end I have started to realize that what they say doesn’t even matter because I know my Mom is not looking for anyone else.

         “Yeah?” I said with a sigh.

         She glanced at me, “Tobi when we get to the Doctor I want you to tell them exactly what has happened to you in the past couple of weeks. I don’t care how cool you think your gift is I just want you to know that I’m worried about you.”

         She worries about me way too much, other than that she is a pretty cool Mom. A cool person that I think I can trust with telling anything.  But sometimes I don’t think I can trust her either. It’s almost as if she doesn’t care about me. She only cares about what the Doctors care about.

         Finding out what is wrong with my eyes.

         Madison pulled into the parking lot of Roland Eye Center then sat in the car for a few minutes thinking to herself about what she is going to tell the Doctor. “I know you’re worried about me Mom. I just don’t want you to be. I think the gift is cool like you said and I know that you don’t like me thinking like that, but how else am I supposed to think Mom? I just want to be very happy with myself even if I’m not happy with myself ya know?”

         “I know.” She said. “I know son.”

         After Dad died Mom and I were split apart. We were once close, but Mom got very defensive at certain times involving Dad’s death. While driving Mom wanted to be the only one talking. While sitting down and reading Mom didn’t want to hear anyone talking to her. And while lying in bed Mom wanted someone to lie there with her to keep her calm.

         Mom opened the car door then climbed out of the car as if she struggled with it. She didn’t want to be seen with tears in her eyes. Every time she drove it made her think that she was going to be killed like Dad was. And when she got out of the car she praised God.

         Mom is a Christian.

         I am not, I don’t know anything about this God, or why he doesn’t pay any attention to me. I would understand completely if I would get some attention paid to me, but I don’t at all. It’s like he’s there but just sitting up in the clouds and laughing at me as I go through everything.

         Maybe it is because of my past, but Mom always talks about forgiveness when she comes into my room every night before bed. She asks me to ask this God for forgiveness. She tells me to accept this God character into my life. Sometimes I want to tell her no.

         Sometimes I want to hear more.

         Now is a time I want to just tell her to drop it. To me my eyes are more important than a guy that was sitting up in the clouds. I knew I had eyes I could see them. I didn’t know there was a God. I couldn’t see him.

         Same with Angels and Demons and all others.

         “Tobi let’s go.” Mom said to me as I opened the door of the car then climbed out. I am too busy lost in my own thoughts to listen to Mom, but I know that I have to hurry into the Doctor’s office so I can learn more about my gift. Sometimes I wish someone else was given these eyes, but I know that I have a gift and I will do anything to keep the gift as long as I live.

         It is always the same.

         I enter the Optometrist’s office. The door swings wildly open as Mom holds it for me. Normally it would be the other way around. I would hold the door open for Mom because it was the right thing to do, but on days like this I just didn’t care who held the door open for whom, it just wasn’t a big deal to me because I knew I was going to find out some life changing information.

         The inside of the Optometrist’s office is massive. Upon entering the office I notice the same statue of the human eye inside a glass case. It is much like a diagram, it looks like an eye, but on the left side a piece is cut out showing what is inside the eye and how it looks. I am always amazed by the statue and how detailed some artists can be nowadays.

         The floors are made of a unique white marble that immediately catches my eye. It is the same tone of white that my eyes are-even though there really isn’t another tone of white out there. The marble casts a reflection of the light from the sunroof that is characteristic about the Doctor’s office that amazes me.

         I hear the squeal of a door then look at the last door on the left. A little boy is walking out of the door, it is sad because he was no more than five holding his mother’s hand while he walks blindly into the world. He is too young to have a cane, or a dog to guide him. Nothing can help save his vision, not even the latest laser surgery.

         “How sad” Mom says as the boy passes her.

         I see his mother glance up at me, staring into my ghost white eyes wondering why her son has to be blind and not me. We walk through the same door that they walked through. The door with a metallic doorknob that I turned for Mom and opened the heavy Doctor’s Office door; Mom walks inside before I do knowing that the news heard today could be the worst news I would ever hear.

         Mom signs me up to see Dr. Ericson. He is my Doctor of course; he is the one that always sees me when there is something wrong. He is the one that sees me when an appointment is scheduled.

         Mom sits down beside me looking at me with a stunned look, “Your appointment is at two-fifteen. Its two now but Dr. Ericson isn’t in. I know I scheduled the appointment with him, but I don’t know if he had surgery or…”

         A nurse pushed the doors open, “Tobi Zane. Dr. Ericson will see you now.” The nurse said.

         I glance at Mom.

         Mom nods in approval; I chose to go into the room without Mom because I don’t want her to worry about me. I don’t want her to think anything bad about me when the Doctor tells me the condition of my eyes has stayed the same and there is nothing that he has figured out to do about it.

         The nurse who has long blonde hair and icy blue eyes is hot in my opinion. I’ve seen her numerous times before, but have never decided to speak with her because I saw that her name was Mrs. Longview, as in married Mrs.

         “Alright, here’s your room.” Nurse Longview said in her beautiful voice.

         I sat down in the chair and waited patiently for her to examine my eyes. “Oh, you’re the kid with the white eyes.” She said.

         I nodded with a smile, “Yep that’s me. Tobi Zane freak of nature.”

         “I don’t think you’re a freak of nature.” She said which surprised me.

         Dr. Ericson walked into the room right as she was checking my eyes. He is a tall African American man with no hair on his head whatsoever. He has a black mustache over his face and serious brown eyes.

         Dr. Ericson was wearing a lab coat and blue scrubs.

         He sat down on his Doctor’s chair-which I always thought would be fun to ride on-then rolled towards me. “So Mr. Zane, how have your eyes been treating you?”

         The question surprised me.

         “They’ve been treating me well, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with them right now, no pain.”

         “Well I wouldn’t expect there to be pain.” He said pulling the normal vision test machine closer to my head. “Lean back and look into the goggles.” He said.

I did so.

         “Good. Now I want you to do something else for me, something different this time.”

         “Like what?” I asked curiously.

         “I want you to tell me what you see in this picture.”

         The goggles felt like they were glued to my head, I was looking into them hard, but I couldn’t see anything. “is there anything in there?” I asked.

         “No, your vision is perfect.” He said.

         “So what about my eyes? How am I going to hide them in school.”

         “You haven’t hidden them for twelve years in school have you?”

         I nodded, “I always used my Dad’s old contacts.”

         “That’s not safe Mr. Zane, but I’ll go ahead write a prescription down for contacts. Be sure to use them, and oh if anything comes up you have to tell me okay.”

           “I will.” I said. “I promise.”

         “Alright, now go outside and tell your mother that you’re ready to go. Have a safe trip.” He said.

         Dr. Ericson was a very kind man.

         Unfortunately I couldn’t tell him that I saw something above his head that would change the way he lived. Would he ever believe me? Would he ever think that I was crazy because I saw a clock counting down above his head?

         I walk out of the small space where the vision test was and see Nurse Longview standing at the information desk speaking with the record keeper.

         “Nurse Longview.” I said.

         “Yes Mr. Zane?”

         “If I’m not a freak of nature what am I?”

         She laughed gave me a laugh then said, “A seventeen year old boy that needs to get home and get some rest.”

© Copyright 2011 Korbin Scales (korbins at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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