Jean watched him sleep; he was so peaceful. Silently, she sneaked out of bed and went to the bathroom. It was still dark but she could see fine; she could always see better in the dark. She looked in the mirror and noticed her eyes weren't getting any better. The purple hue was overtaking the sea of green. She opened the cabinet and took out the eye drops the optometrist prescribed. A drop lay over her left eye. Both eyes snapped shut. "Fuck," she whispered. Now, the right eye, and the whole ritual started again. Jean was never the type to swear, and she always felt bad for doing it, but lately she felt that if she swore the pain would go away. She wasn't sure what pain, though. Her eyes wandered to the mirror again. She really looked at herself, and felt as though she wasn't her. Was that even possible? To have a soul that did not belong to this reflection?
Jean was pretty; she had light hair – almost white – with pale skin and sea green eyes that captivated everyone, and her eyes always held an expression that only her soul mate and fiancé, Paul, could read properly. Her lips were luscious, which drew every guy's eyes, and sometimes even their desires. She padded downstairs and boiled the kettle. She readied mugs with one spoon of coffee for her and Paul. She glanced up at the stairs leading to where he slept, and a warmth over flowed her body. She smiled and poured the hot water into the mugs and splash of milk. She climbed the stairs and snuck into the bedroom where he lay. She put his coffee on the table next to his bed and walked to the other side, put her coffee on her table and lay on the bed, facing him. She smiled and leaned over, gently kissing his forehead. He awoke with a small smile and kissed her back. "Morning," he mouthed.
She smiled. "Your coffee is behind you."
He got up with a moan. "Thanks sweetie," he said as he reached for the coffee, blew on it, before taking a little sip and sighing contentedly. "Just what I needed."
They both crunched their raspberry muesli with vanilla chocolate yoghurt, when he looked into her eyes. A worried look crossed over his face. "Your eyes aren't getting any better. How do you feel?"
"Nervous." She smiled, catching his expression. "I am fine. There is nothing to worry about. Besides, I have been putting in those eye drops that the optometrist prescribed." He glanced sideways at her. She got up and gave him a firm kiss. "Come now, it's our anniversary. I don't was us to worry about my eyes; I'm sure it's all fine. I am not losing my vision; I can still see you,"
He smiled and grabbed her around the waist and gently put her on his lap. "Yes, that is true. What are we doing for our anniversary, anyways?"
She smiled and gave him a teasing look. "I was thinking that we can stay at home and you can have your way with me…"
"Sounds like a darn deal," she giggled as he swept her into his arms, put her on the couch and sat behind her. He reached for the remote, switched stations to a horror where a girl's guts were being lashed out of her and cuddled with his beautiful fiancé.
"Love, it is eleven o'clock. Shall we retire to the bedroom?"
Paul's eyes went wide and he threw her a surprised smile before laughing. "Why did you just speak like that, Hun?" he chuckled. "You never speak like that. I don't think anyone does," he laughed, kissing her forehead. Jean looked at him sceptically. When did she speak strangely? "I didn't say anything 'funny'; I just said we should go to bed." She frowned.
"Baby," he smiled, "you were speaking as though we lived a hundred years ago. 'Shall we retire to the bedroom?'" he quoted, laughing.
"I did not say it like that!" she paused, thinking. "Hmm…. Did I?"
He kissed her forehead. "Yes you did babes. It's fine, you probably thought like that after watching Sherlock Holmes. It kind of turned me on though..." He winked.
"Well, it did get me to where I wanted to be," she gave a cheeky smile and raced up to the bedroom; he chased her up after switching off the TV. She jumped onto the bed and bit her lip teasingly. He dove over her and kissed her passionately, revelling in each other's tastes as their tongues entwined. Whilst she was enjoying the tenderness of his tongue, she suddenly had an urge to bite it. She didn't seem to have control. She wanted to bite it gently. Instead, she drew blood.
Paul pushed her away, a hand reaching for his mouth. "What the hell! Why the hell did you just do that?" he stood, striding to the bathroom. "Ah shit that hurt!" He was holding his hand over his mouth, trying to hold the blood.
"Don't be such a baby!" she snapped. He looked at her with absolute, disbelieving horror. She gasped, back in her own body. "Oh my word! I can't believe I just said that! I am so sorry!" She reached for a towel, and scratched around the cabinet for that mouthwash which helped to heal such injuries. Paul kept watching her.
"Are you sure you're ok? You've never bitten me, or spoken to me like that before. Is there something bothering you? Please tell me, I want to help fix it."
Jean looked deeply into his eyes. "Nothing's wrong. I– I don't know what came over me. I just had this urge to bite you and got annoyed about your reaction. I don't know what happened. I am so sorry baby!" he wrapped his arms around her when tears threatened to well.
"It's fine," he soothed, "but if there are any problems, please, let me know."
She hugged him tightly. "I promise," she said.
She got of bed after she made sure that Paul was asleep, and went to the bathroom again, staring into the mirror. Her left eye was almost over-run with the strange violet hue. She opened the cabinet and grabbed for the eye drops. She was about to put a drop in when a power came over her and she threw the eye drops across the room. A deep, feral growl came out of her. Jean just knew that she woke Paul up. But to her surprise, he was still fast asleep. What is happening? she thought. I'm becoming a monster. She turned to look in the mirror again but felt a heavy heat surge over her and she blacked out.
She woke up in an unfamiliar bed. The duvet was much heavier and the walls were light blue, not the normal, dark purple colour. She didn't hear any cars going past, just birds chirping. She sat up in the poufy, white bed with light blue lining at the edges, in the shapes of birds and flowers. She stepped out of the bed and landed on cool, light brown wooden floors. The room was very pretty and delicate. There were white paintings of birds on the walls, and a petite white dressing table next to the window, in front of which was a light blue velvet couch. The cupboards were on the right, built in, with silver door handles. In one of the corners was a full-length mirror. She cautiously walked to stand in front of it and gasped in horror.
Her hair was no longer its light blonde shade, but charcoal black. Her eyes were completely violet. Who was this person? This person who moved with her in the mirror? She moved closer until she was close enough to touch the mirror with her nose. She stared at this strange woman standing in front of her. She lifted her hand and placed it lightly on the mirror. Suddenly, the glass shattered, cutting deep gashes in her pale skin. She screamed in pain. The scene disappeared and she was now enveloped by blackness. In the distance she saw yellow eyes boring into her, followed by a faint laugh that grew louder, more menacing. Every time it grew louder the eyes sailed closer. The laugh turned to a shrill scream. The glowing amber eyes were now part of a face that flew right through her.
Jean jolted awake. Where am I? She was back in her dark purple duvet with black lining. She was drenched in sweat and her nose was bleeding. She could taste the blood in her mouth. She threw the covers back, heading into the shower. The water washed away her fears, and she realised she hadn't seen Paul in their bed. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. Padding back to into the bedroom, she saw he still wasn't there. "Baby?"
She jumped. "Oh! I thought you were at work," she said, clenching her fists around the towel.
Paul shook his head. "No," he walked closer and rubbed her arms. "I called in saying you were really ill. I found you lying on the bathroom floor this morning. I'm really worried, hun. You look even paler than usual…." He looked over her with concern shining in his eyes, and her heart warmed with fire. How she loved this man, the way he cared. She stared into his deep blue eyes.
"I think you should lie down, your left eye is looking really bad," he picked her up and gently laid her on their bed. "I'll get you a fresh pair of pyjamas." He opened the cupboard and picked out her silk, dark purple pair. She put them on and crawled back into bed. Maybe she just needed to sleep it off. "Hun, are you sure you don't want to see a doctor, maybe?" Paul asked as he sat down on the bed next to his lover. She looked at him and smiled. "I'm fine. I do have a little bit of a headache, but I guess it's because I hit my head on the tile floor."
"Sleep," Paul commanded, stroking her hair until her breathing settled. He watched her as she slept. She looked so innocent. He wondered briefly what she was dreaming about. He had always known from the beginning that Jean would be different from the other girls. She was always quiet and never spoke her true thoughts. She had a mysterious aura, and that mysteriousness was what had attracted him to her. It had taken three months for his lips to touch hers. Having grown up in Tennessee, she was very religious and believed that if it was meant to be, it could wait. He did wait, and finally scored with her. He fell deeply in love with her during those first three months, while they mostly hung out as friends, then eventually a couple, and he really got to know her. He fell in love with her ideas, her imagination and creativity. He fell in love with all of who Jean was, and found that she was a brilliant kisser. He sighed softly, went downstairs and switched on his laptop. He still had work to do, and at home he could still hear if anything should happen….