The Man In Dark Glasses

“Why are you here, Adrian?”

I stared at The Man In Dark Glasses, as I'd come to think of him. Every time he came into the room in which I'd been imprisoned, he began by asking that same question. It was infuriating.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been there. Days at the very least, possibly weeks. The spartan room was without clocks or windows, making it impossible to keep track. The room itself contained only the cot on which I spent every restless night, a toilet, and the simple wooden table at which The Man In Dark Glasses presently sat.

“I said, why are you here, Adrian?”

“You tell me,” I said. “You're the one who brought me here.”

He shook his head slowly, face impassive behind the dark, round spectacles. “I am not the one responsible for your present condition, Adrian. I am sorry that you continue to believe this is the case.”

I sighed and ran my hand over my face. How long had it been since I shaved? I felt more carefully at my skin... stubble, sure, but no more. How could that be possible?

The Man In Dark Glasses interrupted my thought. “Please, Adrian, have a seat. We have much to discuss, and our time may be short.”

I sat, lacking the energy to argue. “May be short? What, don't you know how long you're gonna keep me stuck here?”

“I do not. We could be interrupted at any moment, in theory. Though I do not believe it is likely.” His voice was an even monotone every time he spoke, making it all the more difficult to get any useful information out of him. His voice, his passive face, those damned glasses... he gave away nothing.

“Interrupted? You're the only one I've seen since I got here. Was brought here. Whatever. Who's going to interrupt us?”

He gave the slightest shrug of his shoulders. “I do not know. But it is possible, all the same.”

“So, okay, that means you're not the head honcho, if someone might interrupt your little interrogation. Who is?”

“Adrian, we have been over this. I am not the one responsible for your situation. I merely wish to talk.”

“So talk. We're talking. How's the weather? Giants win?” I leaned back on the folding chair. These conversations never went anywhere. Around and around in circles. Yet he never seemed to get tired or frustrated, which frustrated me all the more.

“Adrian, you say that you do not know why you are here. That being the case, allow me to rephrase the question. Why do you think you are here?”

“I don't even know where here is. You won't tell me anything, you talk and you talk and never tell me a damn thing. I mean, it's some kind of prison, right? Has to be. So what'd I do to end up in prison? Nothing. I didn't do anything.”

“It is interesting that you think of this place as a prison, Adrian. It is very interesting.”

“What else am I supposed to think of it as? You won't let me leave, will you? I can't just get up and go out the door. So what is it if it's not a prison.”

He may have sounded disappointed, except that he never really sounded like anything. “I have told you. I am not responsible...”

“Yeah. Yeah I know. You're not responsible for my situation. You keep saying that.”

“It is the truth.”

I shoved the table forwards at The Man In Dark Glasses with what I thought was enough force to knock him over. He lifted a hand and caught the edge, stopping it with what appeared to be no effort whatsoever. I grunted in frustration.

“Go away,” I said, moving back to the small cot with which I had become so familiar. “I'm getting tired of this.”

“That is unfortunate, Adrian, in that it makes two of us.” He stood and left the room without another word, and the sound of a heavy lock sliding into place was the last thing that I heard for hours.

The next time I woke up, I screamed. The Man In Dark Glasses was standing over my bed, looking down at me.

“What the – aarrh!” Pain shot through my left arm without explanation. I looked down to my arm and could see nothing, but it felt like a knife being shoved into me. When I looked up to demand an explanation, he was already seated at the table. I hadn't seen him move.

“What... what are you doing to me?” I yelled, holding my arm.

“Once again, Adrian, I am not responsible for your present condition. I am sorry that you are experiencing pain.”

“Yeah, I just bet you are.” The pain began to fade, though not entirely. I took my seat across the old table from him, as had become customary.

“I have a proposal for you, Adrian.”

My brow arched. This was new. At least he wasn't asking me what I was doing there. I waited for him to continue.

“Our time here may be growing short. I had hoped to come to know and understand you better before getting to this point, but it seems fate may be forcing my hand.”

The light from the bare bulb hanging overhead reflected off of his dark glasses.

“So this is where you finally get around to whatever the hell is it you want from me,” I said.

“Yes.” He nodded slightly. “It is. Adrian, it may come as a surprise to you to learn that I am just as much a captive of this place as you are, perhaps more so. I find it ironically appropriate that you deem to refer to it as a prison, for that is exactly what it has been to me for a very long time.”

“Except the part where you're free to come and go out of that door and I'm not,” I scoffed.

“If you knew what exists beyond that door, Adrian, you would not be so anxious to leave through it.” He tilted his head slightly to one side. “Perhaps I should show you.”

“Yeah. Sure, show me.” I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. I didn't know what he was playing at, but I wasn't going to let his little mind games get me all worked up.

After a moment, he slid those opaque sunglasses down and off, placing them on the table. My mind froze. I jerked back from the table, my chair skidding backwards as I tried to understand what I was seeing. This was the moment where he stopped existing in my mind as The Man In Dark Glasses, and became The Man With No Eyes.

I wrestled with comprehension. His eyes weren't missing, there were no ugly scars or gaping holes. They simply were not there; the skin where his eye sockets should have been was smooth and unbroken under his brow. It wasn't until he slid the glasses back into place that I snapped out of my frozen shock and scrambled backwards out of the chair, sending it flying onto its side and standing with my hand over my mouth.

“Now that I have your attention, Adrian, we have much to discuss. Much like you, I am a victim of this purgatory. You, however, possess something that I do not. The ability to leave.”

My mind began to catch up. “W-wait, what? I can leave?”

“Of course you can, Adrian. And I want you to take me with you.”

“But... what, I just walk out? It's locked.”

“Not that way, Adrian. You don't want to go through the door.”

“I don't understand.”

The Man With No Eyes opened his jacket and withdrew a long silver dagger with a dark jewel set in the pommel. He placed it carefully in the center of the table.

“An act of self-sacrifice. By destroying your body you will be freed of this place, and by using my gift, you will take me with you. Pick up the knife, and ram it into your heart.”

I picked up the chair, righted it, and sat heavily. I stared at him, then the knife.

“You're insane. I've heard plenty of screwed up metaphors about death being freedom, but how the hell is killing myself going to get me out of... wherever this is?”

“I do not have time to explain myself, Adrian. Listen to me carefully: pick up the knife, and ram it into your heart.” He seemed to be becoming impatient. Well, if I was annoying him I must be doing something right.

“No.”

He took off his glasses again, exposing the soft flesh beneath them. “Pick up the knife, and ram it into your heart.”

“Screw you.”

His mouth became a void, stretching impossibly wide, his voice booming into my ears, filling my mind.

“PICK UP THE KNIFE, AND RAM IT INTO YOUR HEART.”

I backed away. When I made no move to follow his instructions, The Man With No Eyes stretched his mouth even wider, and the most indescribable sound filled the room. It was more than deafening, it was an inhuman wail that poured into my entire being, inescapable, unavoidable, unbearable. I covered my ears and tried to block it out, answering his fury with my own feeble screams as it overwhelmed my senses.

After an eternity, the unholy din subsided. I looked up in time to see his hand flashing towards me, grabbing me around the throat and lifting me off my feet. I gasped and choked, clawing at his arm as it held me.

“I had hoped to resolve this without resorting to extremes, Adrian. It is unfortunate that you have forced my hand.” His voice had returned to its unnaturally smooth monotone, though he had not bothered to replace the dark glasses. He slammed me backwards against the wall, hand clamped around my throat. My vision swam as he bounced my head off of the rough brick again and again. When he let go I collapsed in a heap, barely conscious. He yanked my head up by the hair, lifting my face up to his.

“Look into my eyes,” said The Man With No Eyes. Then he opened them.

The flesh covering his eye sockets strained and then tore, ripping itself open to reveal what it had been hiding. I screamed.

I don't know how long he held me like that, forcing me to gaze into the hell inside him. When he released me, I simply stood and walked numbly to the table, picked up the knife, and rammed it into my heart.

You wouldn't understand. You can't understand. Anything to escape the visions that had filled my mind. Anything to escape him. Ending my own life to do so was merciful.

The world went black.



There was something beeping.

What was beeping?

Would someone please stop that beeping?

I opened my eyes, and the world slowly came into focus. At first it was too bright, but as my eyes adjusted to the sunlight flooding in from the window, I started laughing.

A hospital room. I was in a hospital. Of course I was. There had been an accident... the memories came flooding back. A car accident. The IV needle taped to my left arm explained the pain I had felt in my dream. I felt giddy. That's all it had been, some weird coma-induced fever dream. Everything was explained, and whatever my physical condition was, it was OK. Because none of it had been real. He wasn't real.

A nurse rushed into the room, a huge smile blooming on her face. “Well, well, look who's awake. It looks like your friend was right... he said he thought you were coming around.”

I smiled weakly. It made me happy to think of one of my friends sitting with me.

“Was it Sophie?” I asked.

“No... you know, I don't think I actually got his name. He was here every day, but never really talked to anybody but you.” She made a slight face. “Not really very sociable. And hiding behind those weird sunglasses all the time.”