Turn the Page, Turn the Life | A Writer’s Battle for Survival | Help Her Win
Turn the Page, Turn the Life | A Writer’s Battle for Survival | Help Her Win

Loshini Shankar



Loshini Shankar


What Was Always Mine

What Was Always Mine

3 mins

I opened my eyes.

An overwhelming whirlwind of colors and emotion fills me.

I start crying

"Hey, don't cry!", says my father, not exactly how I thought you'd react after seeing color for the first time after 10 years!!".

'No, I feel great, just... A bit emotional'.

Well, I would be, wouldn't I? Seeing that I got my eyesight back after 10 long years. Exactly on the day of my 15th birthday.

I lost my eyesight on my 5th birthday and now regained it 10 years later my 15th. Isn't it quite a thing to celebrate?

And then that evening I got discharged and got to celebrate my 15th birthday and got to cut my cake and dance and sing and celebrate and all the other normal birthday stuff, blah blah blah and all.

I don't think I’ve ever felt this happy before, ever.

But then everything changed.

When no one was looking, I walked out of my birthday party and just went straight down the road.

Even I didn't know where I was going.

It's like some sort of a hallucination took over me.

Now I'm running, fast.

Really fast.

Taking a left here, a right there.

It's scary that I seem to know where to go without really knowing. And that I have no control, whatsoever.

It's really scary.

After quite some time of running, I halt to a stop, panting.

Where was I?

I look around for a board, a street sign, anything that could possibly tell me where I was.

Ooh, spotted.

Greenwood. Cemetery?

Where was I here, of all places, especially on my birthday?

What? Bloody hell, I got to get out of here.

But I don't.

I walked, and I walked. And then I spotted a grave. Laura Adams, it says.

The name sounds familiar. Well, never mind that now.

I want to run away, I want to block myself from this horror, but I can't.

I kneel. And then I begin to dig. Not long after I find my hands are stained with blood. So the body had to be fresh.

But I still don't stop.

I find a lady's horrendous face. It was scarred, and she didn't have eyes. Only deep, empty holes.

And then I start.

My bloody hands hack away at my eyes and pull and scratch and tear and its torture until they bleed and bleed and at last I manage to pull my own eyeballs out.

Then I put them in her empty holes.

Then I covered her up with soil again.

Somehow it wasn't so surprising that I knew what I was doing, even though the pain and the fact that I was blind and couldn't see a thing.

Then I heard an unnatural voice.

"I’ll take back what was always mine, thank you very much".

And I knew it wasn't humane.

Then I come back to my senses. My eyes are not there, and the bleeding still hasn't stopped, but I regain control of my mind and body once again.

And then it all comes back to me. I remember the name.

Laura Adams was the person who donated her eyes for my surgery.

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