Seven years ago, during my summer vacation, my parents were killed by a kid who broke into our house.

I had just come in from swimming in the lake. It was getting late and the sun was setting. I was changing into dry clothes when I heard a loud noise from the living room.

Mommy and Daddy were always fighting, so I passed it off as that, But being curious, I opened my door an inch and peeked down the hall to see what I could see.

There was a dark stain on the carpet in the living room.

"Maybe Mommy spilled some of her happiness,"

This was my first thought when I saw that stain, later years I came to learn that "happiness" was Mommy's term for wine. With this thought came the realization that Daddy must have been mad about it and thrown something. I never liked it when he did things like that, and especially when the things he threw hit her. I opened my door more and called out.

"Mommy?" No response.

I walked down the hall and into the living room to see a boy standing over the corpse of my father, a bloody knife sticking out of his back. I could hear Mommy crying in the corner, she kept saying her son was a good boy and would never hurt her.

This made me confused, how could Mommy mistake me for this other boy? Sure he looked to be the same age as me, around ten or eleven, but my mommy knew me, didn't she? The boy's face was covered in shadow, and it seemed that he hadn't noticed me yet.

He took the knife out of Daddy's back, and it made the most horrible noise, a squishy, wet noise that sent chills down my spine. The boy turned to my mommy and ran at her, bringing the knife down on her, stabbing again and again and again.

He turned to me, and I saw his glimmering eyes in the small amount of light coming through the window. They were green, a bright emerald green. Then he ran out the door and into the hazy twilight.

His eyes always stayed in my memory, burned into my retinas. I wanted nothing more than to find this boy and take those eyes that had so haunted me, and destroy them so I wouldn't have to see them anymore.

I lived my life in mental institutions, dealing with the trauma of seeing my parents killed. I told the doctors about my plan to find the boy and take his eyes, his terrible emerald eyes. They said it was out of line. Me! Out of line? I thought they were insane. They didn't deserve to be doctors.

I moved from institution to institution, unhappy with all the doctors I came across.

Until I met Dr. Hassling, she understood, she knew exactly what to say. She said anyone would have wanted to have revenge after going through what I went through, I knew I was right all along. But she did say odd things at times, like what if I could undo that day and do it over, what would I do differently. Does she mean I should have saved my parents? Maybe I should have locked the door when I came in? If anything, the boy should want to go back and change things. I told her this, and she just nodded. She knows I'm right.

A year after being with Dr, Hassling, she said I should go out and find this boy, to get my revenge. It was the happiest day of my life. I packed what little things I had from the institution and left. I spent the night at a nearby hotel and planned out how I was going to find the boy.

I had a shower and was about to go to bed when I noticed something moving in the corner of my eye. Turning toward the movement, I came face to face with the boy. Much older now, what with the passing years. But I knew those eyes. The eyes that stayed with me my whole life. How did he know I was here? He must have been following me!

My mind raced until I thought of the knife sitting on the table that I had used while eating dinner. I picked it up slowly and walked toward the green eyed boy.

The boy, or man now, started to walk towards me. He had something in his hand, but I couldn't see it in the shadows. We walked toward each other until we were less than a foot apart, then I quickly raised the knife and plunged it in his eye.

Cackling and screaming, I wedged his eye out and then moved onto the other one.

The moon must have gone behind the clouds because all the light seemed to disappear, but I didn't need light, I knew what I was doing. I stabbed blindly and felt the knife sink into flesh, gratifying me and making me want to stab more and more and more...

The next day, the hotel's room service came in to find a scene of bloody horror. The police were quickly called and the crime scene investigated.

A man lay dead, one eye missing and multiple stab wounds on his body.

In his hand lay a knife, in front of him sat a mirror, and sitting next to his head lay the remains of what used to be a very pretty green eye.

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