Through The Eyes Of A Killer Novels & Stories

Keira chanted to herself, moments before her cool trigger finger squeezed, releasing the bullet of her first kill from her gun. The Eye of Imperium looked different today, tainted by bodies and blood. How many times had Keira walked through those doors with her head held high? Now as her brothers and sisters in arms fought for different ideals, pumped lead into each other and pierced skin like they were strangers, every bit of her questioned how she was still standing. As she watched the life leave the king of murder's eyes, an almost angelic smile graced his face when he realized who had been his undoing.

Not just any bodies, the torn off pieces of her family: her mothers afraid features still cemented to her motionless body, surrounded by the limps of her father Daniel and younger brother Jamie. "They will fucking, pay for this!", Nyx roared inside my mind, igniting the fury already ablaze. There had to be over fifty pictures – zoomed in and out – of their gruesome murder. It was obvious they had suffered and she would make sure that the person who did this suffered too.

"Now I see why I liked you from the moment I first saw you." I almost jerked back when I saw the beautiful and friendly eyes she looked at me with. The eyes which she had looked at me the first time we had met, when I had puked in the toilet and all the times when both me and her had terrorized Janette and Clarissa in a short period of time, our fun adventures in the malls, restaurants, cinemas and salons. But then, I recalled that it was the exact same eyes that almost drowned me in the bathtub at the pack house of Dylan, the eyes which returned me back to my parents when I was about to taste freedom and what real life was like. And the same eyes which looked at Steve Harrows before killing

This- this is the real deadly assassin's eyes. Aldrick the warrior's name did not even comprehend how did the young man appeared infront of him. Its faster than the blink of an eye. More faster than the lightning itself. He was looking at the young man. His gaze never leaving him, but now, here he is. Beside him. Like he said even if just an instant, he saw the most deadliest and lethal eyes an assassin have. He too was an assassin but, this young man- was beyond him. A corn of sweats dribbling from his forehead down to his chin.

As soon as it's light pierced into the dark glooming space we were, I froze. My almost pale face lost it's colours,my hands turned cold on those of my killer. But not as cold and stony as those gaze of my killer, his eyes grave dead and more terrifying as death. I could feel his hold on my neck softened, his unfeeling eyes stuck on mine,he didn't blink nor moved. He moved his eyes slowly to his hands which were now covered with my blood, I saw the same look he held that night when my life was at his mercy.

My classmates turned their heads up to us. There was a look of astonishment on their faces. Even if they wanted to ask, they could not and chose to remain silent and just listen to me and Clark talking. I laughed out loud. “It's okay if you don't ask for help anymore. It is also a waste of time because it is just crazy that you think one of us is a murderer.” Ace stood up from his seat. “What do you mean, Xienne? Clark is thinking that the killer is one of us here?”

His eyes. There’s something there. Cold. Still. Depthless. It’s the same look I’ve seen in Jackson when the switch flips. Killer-eyes. I once binge-watched a documentary series about serial killers — and they mentioned a look a person gets after killing someone … not accidentally, but with intent. They described it as cold, pitiless … inhuman. A glare with the absence of softness. A look that shows nothing but a brutal, apathetic, harsh, dark soul. A soul that’s walked somewhere dark and didn’t come back whole.

“If you ask them about it, you will have to tell them about seeing me. If you do that, I swear they will pack everything up and move. Meaning you will not see me for a while.” As he finished speaking, I noticed his eyes had gone bright red and you didn't hear the owls anymore. “I’ve always trusted you more than my parents so why would I ask them, since you have already said they have been lying to me.” When I looked away from Marcus, I noticed there were about 7 pairs of vibrant colored eyes surrounding us. Slowly another set appeared but were purple with gold specks.

John’s wide eyes locked on the injector in Killian’s grip, then— A blood-curdling scream broke through the house. Killian st*bbed the syringe into John’s left eye. Blo*d spurted out, rolling down his face. John shrieked in real pain. His right eye widened in dread, and his left vision clouded with red liquids as he stared at his remorseless nephew. The screams grew louder when Killian slammed the needle repeatedly into his eyes, crushing his eyeballs, while his other hand clamped tightly around John’s throat, cutting off any chance to breathe.

Clumps of damp earth flew directly into my eyes. "Listen to me, Doll," Killian commanded harshly. He grabbed the sides of my face, forcing me to look at him. His pale gray eyes were completely devoid of any softness. They were the cold, dead eyes of a ruthless killer preparing for war. "You have to run." I shook my head frantically, my eyes wide with absolute terror. I grabbed the thick fabric of his dark sweater, my knuckles turning completely white. "No," I rasped, my broken voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the gunfire tearing the forest apart.