A face clouded my sight, the only object in the darkness. His face--overwhelming with its grace and beauty--was crumpled in sadness, his red eyes flooded with the pain of an inner struggle. But before I could make sense of what was happening, his blonde hair lost its luster, and the face turned into a plain and unfamiliar one. The most significant change, though, was the change in his eyes--the pain turned into cruelty; the iris’s were hard with their lust for the kill.

I awoke with a start; my breathing was heavy as I panted for air. My heart sped; it ricocheted in my chest.

The man’s face had been horrifying, and I could not erase it from my mind: his murderous eyes met mine behind my lids.

It was odd to realize that, ever since seeing the soldier a year or so ago, I had never wondered just why he had his eyes. No human being had eyes that shade of scarlet. The introduction of this new face had forced me to consider questions that had never been raised before.

What was it that made his eyes so red? Was it some odd genetic mutation? What were the odds that two people--one fairly average, though terrifying; the other self-loathing and godlike--would have the same mutation? Had it only affected their eyes?

I would never be able to answer these questions, and it was useless to consider them. Frustrated, I threw off my covers, and sat on the side of my bed. I couldn’t go to sleep again--I was too awake for that. My throat was a little sore, and for want of something to do, I decided to get a glass of water.

I trod carefully to the door, lest I should wake my parents. When I opened my door, I was shocked when a light from the living room blinded me. I closed the door abruptly and blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust. After waiting for a time, I opened the door slowly, and again, I was shocked.

But for a whole different reason.

“We can’t let her stay here, Benjamin!” Mother insisted. Automatically, I knew that the “her” she were talking about was me.

“Please, Eleanor, we can’t just kick her out! She is our daughter--you always seem to think that we have only one!” Father argued back. The love I suddenly felt towards my father made it feel like my heart was about to burst. He never argued against Mother--to hear him do so--and for me--was extraordinary.

“Then what do you suggest we do with her? Huh? Lock her in her room and never let her out?” I could picture her glaring at Father.

“That would be better than sending her to an asylum! Anything would be better than sending her away!”

The asylum. My heart sank, and I gripped onto the door with all my strength, afraid that my knees would give out.

“But she could be fixed if we went her away! They have new technology--”

“I can’t believe you, Eleanor!” Father bellowed. “If you can’t love our Mary just the way she is, you’re not fit to be a mother!”

I could hear Father get up from his chair--I bolted for my bed. I had just put the covers up over my waist when he came into my room.

He tried his best to be quiet, but he was too angered to keep up appearances. His breathing was labored, but he tried to soften it as he came to my side.

He lay one of his big hands on the side of my face. He stroked my hair, and bent down to kiss my cheek.

“I wish your mother could love you as much as I do,” he whispered. He stayed at my side for another 30 seconds, sighed, and departed.

The door was barely shut by the time I started sobbing. My father had never really shown affection to the two of us; he always seemed like a cold businessman. To realize that he loved me--that I was possibly his favorite--made my heart swell.

He had fought against Mother--my mother, a woman made of stone--to save me. That amount of love and respect was overwhelming.

The fact that my mother wanted me to be sent away was not altogether surprising, but an asylum! I could hardly believe it. Did she think I was crazy? A burden, yes, but out of my mind? That was a bit of a stretch, I thought.

Somewhere, in the middle of all this, I fell asleep. My dreams were filled with women made of stone and fathers that cared and a scary man with sinister eyes and a kind man with red eyes who saved me from all of this insanity.