The very first thing people would notice about her were her eyes. They would always comment on it sooner or later, but the former more so. 

“They’re so pretty!”

“I love the color.”

“I could get lost within your eyes.”

They would always say to the girl. And she would always just smile in response. Oh, just to continue smiling, as if nothing were wrong with the world. 

They were right after all. She possessed a very lovely pair of eyes. Both deep blue in color, with hints of turquoise and specks of gold. Looking into them was like staring into an ocean, a sea filled full with emotions.

Bright and lively when the young girl was excited. Violent waves that crashed into the edges, masking the sad, echoing cries of the water hidden underneath.

But it was always about her eyes. They said nothing about the rest of the girl. They ignored the rest. They said nothing about the rest of her appearance, her long, brown locks, the freckles that dotted her cheeks. They said nothing about her achievements, about the medals she’d won through swimming, the offers she’d received through competitions after securing first place. Nothing. 

She could not see what she had become, despite standing before a mirror.

Blood and dried tears were splattered across her face. 

Empty and soulless sockets had replaced them.

Her smile was crooked. The knife clattered to the ground. Her palm opened. 

Her two eyes rolled onto the floor.