Eyes of the Architects – Final Chapter

I can’t kill him, I just can’t. He’s my dad. I’ll just forget about it and it will go away. He’s dead, just in my head. So he can’t do anything to me. I know that for sure. I can’t kill him.

I walk back to my house and quickly move to my bedroom. Not sure if anyone else is up. I sit on my bed, sliding through news stories. Maybe I’d just heard about this, and I’m going insane, it’s all just one big freak out inside my mind. I wanted to get inside that draw so badly, and there was nothing inside so I just broke down, made up a story using things like the deaths that were locked away somewhere in the back of my mind. I could have heard about them anywhere. Family talking about it, a friend a school messing around, I could have even just made the whole thing up in my head. I could still be asleep, or maybe this screen is really blank and the words I’m reading aren’t there. That would make more sense, but somehow it just doesn’t feel right. I know I’m awake, and I’m pretty sure I’m in complete control of my mind and body. This is real, I just don’t want it to be.

I watch as the phone slips from my hand to the floor, slowly tumbling down towards the carpet, bouncing slightly with a thud, before resting. The pain comes quickly after, a sharp shooting pain pulsating through my arm and hand. I have no control over it, it’s numb but in agonising pain. Burning from the inside, focusing on my wrist. I grab my wrist, trying to squeeze the pain out, but it doesn’t work. It just grows, building up until I slide of the bed and fall to my knees, trying not to scream. Gritted teeth and tightly closed eyes. Head swirling mind going blank, like an emptying sink. Nothing. And then the pains over. I look down at my wrist, still tightly held. Pins and needles taking over. I can see my hand pulsing, red. I let go. On my wrist an eye. Completely black, with a small capital A in the middle of pupil. It looks like a tattoo, but that makes no sense at all. There’s no red mark, or any sign of pain. Just an eye looking up at me. I try rubbing it with my other hand, nothing. It’s just there. No reason why. Standing back up, I walk into the bathroom and try washing it off. I know it won’t work, but I have to try something. Zilch.

I can hear my dad walking around downstairs, probably just getting something to eat and fall in front of the TV with. What do I do now? Do I go down and talk to him. Kill him? I can’t do it. There is no denying there is something weird going on, but I can’t just kill him for no reason. My eyes drag themselves up from the sink and focus on the mirror. It’s not my bathroom being reflected, it’s that man’s bedroom. I can see him lying in bed, wife next to him. A black figure walks into the room, holding a knife. He stands over the man, and with one hand on his chest, drags the knife through his throat. It’s not a clean cut. It’s rough, and takes time. The body flails around, struggling to regain control. There’s nothing he can do. The woman wakes up, and tries to get the attacker of her husband. She succeeds to an extent but the work is already done. The body won’t flop around much longer, it’s already struggling. The woman lies back down and doesn’t move. The figure places the knife into the man’s hand an leaves. I can only imagine what he said to her. My face slowly melts through the reflection until my bathroom is visible again.

My hands clasped around the side of the sink, my body leaning forward, I edge away and fall onto the rim of the bathtub, one hand still on the sink. My head feels like a balloon, slowly inflating, eyes bulging out. I fall to my knees and puke into the toilet. For a second I think it’s all blood, but it’s not. I flush the chain and fall to the floor, the fidgeting feet etched into the inside of my eyelids. I curl up. It can’t be my dad. Not him, please not him. I couldn’t see him in the mirror, but I know it’s him. Who else can it be? It has to be him. I don’t want to kill him. I don’t want to hurt him. He’s a good man. A good man. This isn’t him. I’m just going insane. This is my fault. Everything is made up. In my head. I’m just crazy. Tears start flowing down my face. No control. I don’t know what to do. Am I really insane. I just lay there.

I don’t know how long I’ve been there for. A knock on the door.

“Hey, you alright?” my dad’s voice. “You sound ill.”

I don’t answer straight away, I instead just lay there. It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice since this started. It scares me. I know he won’t hurt me, that’s not what scares me. It’s how calm it makes me feel. Is he controlling me. Is it just that he’s my dad. I get up and open the door. He’s standing there, wrinkles on his forehead, non blinking eyes trained on me.

“You not feeling well?”

“No, feel sick.”

“It’s always on the weekend, go back to bed. I’ll get you something to drink. Maybe something to eat as well.”

In an instant I feel better. His caring voice, concerned eyes. It’s all there. Nothing about him says murderer. Nothing about him spells dangers. I walk passed him.

“What’s that on your arm?”

A flash on panic, I’d forgotten about the eye. Dad grabs my arm and brings it up to look at. His face changes in an instant, and I know it’s all true. He starts shaking.

“Where did you get this?”

I say nothing.

“Tell me. What is this?”

Nothing. I don’t know what to say.
“Tell me. Don’t just stand there, tell me.”

I can’t remember ever seeing him this angry. His eyes burning, his grip on my arm tightening. Face shaking. I didn’t know what to do. Not sure how to even start explaining. He couldn’t just be angry about a tattoo, he’s beyond that.

“I don’t know.”

“You must know something,” he threw my arm down. “What do you know about the Eyes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t mumble, who got to you?”

“I don’t know, I found a piece of paper in a draw at school, and weird things started happening.”

He calmed down almost instantly.

“A piece of paper? In the science classroom? No. So this is my fault. Do you still have it?”

I nodded.

“Good, take me to it, we need to burn it now.”


“The things you’ve seen they might seem strange, but there’s more than meets the eye. There is a lot more at stake here than you’ll know. I’ll help you understand, but you have to tell me what you know. You have to tell me everything, but first take me to the paper. It needs burning.”

I look back at the mirror on the wall, and he’s standing there looking back at me. Not my dad, but the young man from the dreams. He looks angry, just like my dad, mouthing the words “kill him.” I try and ignore him. I have to make a choice trust him, or my dad. Even with everything I’ve seen the choice seems obvious. I can’t kill him.

I walk passed my dad and towards my bedroom. The whole time, trying to convince myself that I’m making the right decision. He killed people. I saw it happen. It’s all true. I saw it in his eyes, so I can’t just blindly follow him, but at the same time he’s my dad. He’s done nothing wrong to me, and there is more to this than I know. Maybe he had a reason. I hope I’m not just being blinded by family. I pull up my mattress and take the piece of paper. My dad instantly pulls out his lighter and burns it. As it catches alight he throws it in my bin. As I watch the paper crackle and curl, I suddenly go cold. What if he was just manipulating me, what if I don’t have a choice in following him, but that’s how it works. I just feel like I’ve made the decision. I look up at him, at his eyes. They’re fixed on the burning, almost reflecting out of his pupils. He then looks at me.

“Did you kill them?” I ask.

“Yes,” he drops his head, with closed eyes. “But it’s not how you think.”

“Then tell me.”

“I thought it was the only option at the time, maybe I was wrong, but I don’t regret it. Some things need to be done, and I will do them if I have to. They wanted to control the human race, based on some kind of false prophet. Some of us have heightened powers in this world. I’m one of them, it seems like you are too. Powers men and women weren’t supposed to have. For hundreds of years these people have tried to control the world, they haven’t always succeed, but they have tried. All in the name of The Architect. He never existed, or at least not in the way there think he did. He was a madman at best. Someone who just wanted control at worst, and someone who believed in what he was doing at best. This went down through generations, until no one questioned it anymore. The second you start showing some kind of power they grab you, brainwash you and then you do nothing but follow the teachings, most just choosing not to think about what they believe. It makes no sense, and yet it happens. They are a brainwashing cult, with the power to hide themselves.”

“But why kill them? Surely they’re not the bad guys if they were brainwashed themselves.”

“I’m not asking you to understand where I’m coming from, or why I did it. It was a long time ago. I was stupid, and didn’t know where else to turn. I tried telling people, tried causing uproar and that did nothing, they either didn’t believe me or The Eyes got to them. It’s impossible for a wide amount of people to find out about them, they can erase it in an instant. And, what? Based on some stupid idea from centuries ago?”

“What if he did exist, that he really had a plan? You killed them based on nothing.”

“No, He couldn’t have existed. Not in the way they want him to have. It makes no sense. Ideas have to change, theirs don’t. A lot of major incidents could have been avoided. They have no base for their idea that the human race couldn’t survive on it’s own. Look at the world now, it’s no different from a hundred years ago. Poverty, war and death. No cult started that, or ended it. They were delusional.”

“So you killed them? How many did you kill.”

My dad looked down, I could see he was ashamed to tell me this. I didn’t want to know the answer, but I had too. He was my dad, and I knew nothing about him.

“I don’t know. A few. Not all of them. The whole cult fell apart, people started living normal lives. I suppose there are more out there, maybe I didn’t make the slightest dent, but I killed more than I should. There must have been another way. But people with that kind of power shouldn’t be left in charge, you have to understand that. Life is only worth living with no restrictions. You have to understand, and promise me that you won’t use your power to get further than those around you. I really hoped you wouldn’t have to live like this, it’s not easy. But it’s the only way. You can’t use other people to get yourself further.”

I hadn’t even thought about having the power myself, I must have it, but I was so focused on my dad, that I didn’t even think about using it myself. For a small flash I think about what I can do with it, but he’s right. I can’t use it to better myself. It’s unfair. But life’s unfair, why shouldn’t I use it.

“I wasn’t going to use it. I just need to understand why you killed them.”

“Because they were bad people. They wanted to control the world.”

“To make it better. Wasn’t that their plan, to make sure we survived.”

“At what cost? Is it really survival if they make all of our decisions? How can they prove they are doing things for the good of us all. It isn’t that simple.”


“They have manipulated you into anger towards me, from beyond death they have control over you. Just because you can tap into the power. Imagine what they could do on a larger scale. The one who taught me, he was pure evil. All he wanted was an easy life with more money he could use in a lifetime. Even his wife didn’t love him, she just believed she did. He killed others, claiming it was for the greater good.”

“Are they all like that?”

“No, some are just stupid.”

I look him in the eye, trying to figure out whether he is right or not. There is no way to know, so how is he so sure. How were they so sure. There is so much to think about.

About ashleymanningwriter

Young Adult Fiction writer. Horror and fantasy blended together.
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