Monster in His Eyes
Chapter 2
Monster in His Eyes
Unknown
The longer I spend here, the bigger my vengeance grows. I am almost drowning in anger, there are debts to be collected. If killing was an art, I would be some sort of artist.
I am starving, and when I get out, there will be a bloodbath.
The door opens hesitantly, and I am suddenly met with dark brown eyes—a woman’s eyes. Immediately my eyes scan her; somewhere in her early twenties, with curly messy red hair, 5’6, pale skin, and a shy demeanor. As I read her body language, I notice how tense she is. What woman works in a high-security prison filled with men? The closer she comes the tighter the air grows.
Fear. I can almost smell it, thick and suffocating, pouring off her in waves. It clings to the air between us, and I feed on it, savoring the way it twists her body, making her hands tremble as they stitch my wounds. She has no idea what’s sitting in front of her, no idea of the darkness watching her so closely. Most of these idiots think I’m just another brute who only speaks Russian. They couldn’t be more wrong. I speak many languages—languages that can seduce, manipulate, and destroy.
When she finally reaches for the door, the guards grab me, dragging me back to my cell. But I never stop watching her. My eyes lock onto her like a predator stalking prey. Her gaze is cast downward as if she can hide from the weight of my attention. Innocent. Fragile. But not weak.
No, she’s something far more tempting.
Isabella
I stand there, paralyzed by a feeling I’ve never experienced before. His words echo in my mind, looping endlessly. I can feel his gaze burning into my back as the guards escort him out of the room. I lean my head against the wall, trying to steady my racing heart. Why do I feel so nervous? I’ve never met this man before, yet he’s already infiltrating my thoughts.
Minutes later, Lea walks into the room, her voice light.
“Wow, have you seen a ghost?”
I lift my head and inhale deeply, trying to calm myself.
“Have you heard about the man they arrested at midnight? He’s Russian—that’s all we know. No other details yet.”
Lea takes a seat in the chair where he was sitting, crossing her legs casually.
“Yeah, Nick told us to be careful, but that’s about it. Why? You seem a little off. Did something happen?”
I sigh, unsure how to put into words what I’m feeling.
“I just cleaned his wounds and stitched him up, but there’s something... off about him. I don’t know what it is.”
Lea shrugs, her expression unconcerned.
“Maybe you’re just having a rough night. Lack of sleep, you know? If nothing happened, then you’re fine, right?”
I glance at her, the tension still hanging in my chest.
“You’re probably right.”
Lea stands up, flashing me a reassuring smile.
“Yeah, we deal with psychopaths all the time. Maybe he’s been in and out of prison and knows the system. Probably just another man with no conscience, like so many others here.”
I try to smile, feeling a little lighter, but there’s still a nagging feeling deep inside. As we exit the room, I force another smile.
“You’re probably right. I do feel a bit less anxious.”
But deep down, the ominous feeling lingers, refusing to let go. And little do I know, it won’t leave me, not for a long time.
After our break, we go our separate ways to check on other inmates. By the time my shift ends at 6 AM, I’m beyond exhausted. My second job starts at noon, giving me only a few hours to sleep. How does anyone live like this? I sigh as I change out of my scrubs and into my joggers. Grabbing my bag, I wave goodbye to Nick.
“See you Wednesday!”
I try to hurry out of the building, desperate to get some sleep and avoid facing Nick about what happened. He gives me a quick smile before returning to his phone call.
Just as I turn to leave, Nick calls me back. Of course, great.
“Isabel, I need a quick word before you head home,” he says. I turn around, putting on a fake smile as I stand in the doorway.
“Sure, what’s up?”
Nick walks over after placing his phone down on his desk.
“How did it go? Did he show any signs of foreign behavior?”
I twist my lips, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit me.
“He did, didn’t he?” Nick raises an eyebrow.
“He spoke a couple of words,” I respond, looking anywhere but at him. “Nothing special.”
“He spoke?” Nick’s voice sharpens. “Why didn’t you report this to me?”
I sigh, my mind hazy from fatigue. “I didn’t think it was that important.”
Nick tenses slightly.
“Isabel, he hasn’t spoken to anyone since he came in. Not a word.”
My heart picks up speed again as his words sink in.
“What did he say?” Nick probes.
I close my eyes briefly, trying to recall. “Something in Russian. I... I don’t remember exactly.”
A long time ago, I took a short Russian language course. It only lasted a week, maybe two—if I’m being generous—but I remember the tone, the way certain syllables are rolled. Russian has a harshness to it, an intensity in the way it sounds, and when he spoke, something in his voice struck me.
Nick jots something down before meeting my gaze.
“Next time he talks, you need to inform me immediately. This is important information for the NYPD.”
I nod, the weight of his words sinking in. “I will. Sorry.”
Nick gives a small nod of approval. “It’s alright. Now go home and get some rest.”
I offer a small smile, nodding in return. With that, I head toward the exit.
As I step outside, the cool morning fog hits me, the fresh air filling my lungs. I take a deep breath, letting it steady my nerves before getting into my car. The drive home feels endless, but I’m too tired to think clearly.
All I want is sleep.
Unknown
Four walls, four concrete walls. One toilet, more likely just a hole you can piss into, and one bed which is as hard as the concrete walls. I am building up with anger as these four walls lock me inside like a goddamn animal. I am planning, planning the right time to leave this hellhole. It is time for me to go home, to take a fucking clean shower.
I have already set my eyes on the weak link, her . I have many allies here, which means I have eyes everywhere. All the men inside here either owe me a debt, their life, or are terrified of me.
I was arrested on Saturday, and it’s now Tuesday, and my impatience is growing. I sit 23 hours caged like an animal in my cell and 1 hour I spent in the court outside in another fucking cage. In a slightly bigger cage outside is where I’m allowed to have my one hour of recreation. When I want to shower, I get a full body check, then I am permitted to shower. But only for 3 minutes, with ice-cold water. The food is dreadful and monotone. And as if it couldn’t get worse, I am forced to wear a prisoner’s suit and stripped of my belongings. My hands feel empty as they lack all the rings I usually wear. Now the only cold steel I feel are handcuffs. How come the room is so empty and yet my mind is still so full? Maybe because of the number of drugs I snorted a couple of days ago.
I don’t know what time it is exactly but when I hear the keys ramming into the lock of the cell, I know it’s time for my lone hour of fresh air. The guard opens the hole in the door, I reach my hands through it, and he cuffs them, same old same old. I am brought through the steel doors towards the court outside. When we finally reach my open-air cage, I am locked inside and uncuffed. When you are locked up 23 hours a day it is important to keep your mind sane, but how can I do that when I am far from sane in any other situation? I take a deep breath of fresh air as I observe my surroundings. The man in another cage next to me is working out, but as soon as my eyes lock on his he stops immediately. He stands as he bows his head to me, out of respect or fear, I cannot tell.
I spent my hour working out, sweating everything out. As I finish my work out my mind can’t help but to wander off, to wander off to her . Young and innocent, working in a high maximum-security prison. Put one and one together and it is not hard to realize that she is a weak link, a weak link that I am going to put to good use.
Isabella
When I finally reach home after my drive, I’m extremely exhausted. I grab my bag, get out of the car and immediately take off my shoes after opening the front door. I lock the door and walk to the fridge; I decide to have a small breakfast. I grab my favorite, coconut yogurt with nuts and fruits. Once I finish making my breakfast I sit down at the dinner table. My apartment is small, but it has everything I need. I need to keep motivating myself to work harder to keep it. I hope my landlord ‘suddenly’ gets hit by a car or something.
My mind drifts back to what happened tonight, him . I can’t stop myself from wondering about the incident. I need to shrug off this feeling I have, I know I’m just overthinking the situation. I guess that’s what you get from working in a maximum-security prison—suspicion. I decide it would be best to take a hot shower and then try to get some sleep, as I need to go my day job at the café in a few hours.
I am woken a few hours later by the sun. The clock reads 11:30 AM. Shit, I curse to myself as I jump out of bed. I must be in town in half an hour, and I look absolutely like hell. I run towards the bathroom and try to fix my face with a tiny bit of make-up. I put on my work clothes: black skinny jeans and a black shirt. I shove my easy lunch into my mouth as I try to put my sneakers on. I collect my bag and house keys and twist the keys into the hole to open the door. Before I know it, I’m sprinting down the stairs of my apartment building. I speed down the pedestrian, almost sprinting towards the café.
In the process of doing so I can’t help but to notice a black Mercedes with tinted windows. The man inside wears a pair of sunglasses and stares at me. And there it is again, the eerie feeling, that familiar eerie feeling I had last night. I quickly turn my heels and make a run for it; besides the eerie feeling I am almost too late to work. And somehow that bothers me more. I storm through the door as I am met with my boss.
“Hey, busy bee!” she smiles at me. “Another busy night shift?”
I smile back at her as I inhale a deep breath.
“Yes, but I slept fine, and I’m full of energy to work again, Miss Harolds.”
She hands me my apron. I have been working here since my 16 th birthday, and I can’t be more grateful for my relationship with her. Miss Harolds has been like a mother to me and has been nothing but good to me over the years. She knows I work three jobs to keep up with my rent. She always shifts me in whenever I have time. I tie the apron together and smile at Miss Harolds.
“Amazing sweetheart, good luck and let me know if you need anything.”
I give her a nod before walking off to the kitchen. While serving food to the customers, I grab a croissant for myself as well.
My workday goes by quickly, and I am lucky with the tips today. As I’m clean up the last plates I feel a few shivers run up my back again. At this point I feel that I’m paranoid for no reason. The café is empty, and I am the only one closing it today—it’s almost 6 PM. It’s dark outside and little snowflakes are falling from the sky, the sun has set and is nowhere to be seen. I stare at my reflection in the glass as I see headlights moving. While the car passes the café, I immediately recognize the build, the same black Mercedes. Yup, I am going insane.
Unknown
I’m escorted back inside after my workout session. I have men outside, loyal to me, bound by their hearts to me. Loyalty is what drives my men, an eye for an eye and respect for respect. I have eyes everywhere—not only in prison, but outside as well.
As I’m brought back up the stairs again, I spot a pair of eyes on me, and these eyes are not from one of my men. Of course, I not only have men loyal to me, but I have many enemies too. Many men who want to take me down, take my place. The pair of eyes slowly approaches me from the back. The men dragging me back to my cell do not even notice him, but I do. I notice everyone.
It’s to their advantage that I am a smarter person. I wait until the timing is right. I am escorted back into my cell. The loud bang of the steel door closing is the last thing I hear for the next 23 hours.