Eyes

I remember those round, rust orange colored eyes. Things can be so unclear in the darkness, but those eyes I remember vividly. Those eyes from that night come to me in my dreams, but then again maybe that's all it was - my imagination.

Dissociative amnesia - that's what they call it. I can't remember anything from that night. It's what happens when someone experiences strong emotional trauma. The mind does what it has to, to protect the body.

I was in love, the type of love that can drive you crazy if you let it. The type of love where someone says and does all the right things, mostly to make up for something that happened the night before. No one knows you as well as the person you allow into your heart. We were like criminals, sharing the darkest parts of ourselves we'd never allow anyone else to endure. It didn't matter if anyone else understood us because what we had was special.

We decided to buy a charming cabin in the woods, with a driveway as long as some roads. We loved the nature, the quietness, and the privacy. Our choice to seemingly go off the grid was unfathomable to our friends and family, but we were the type of people who acted in the moment.

Gabriel was a smart man, a strong man, but not a patient man or always a rational man. His skills were often overlooked because of his reputation, he struggled to control his anger. Eventually, he had to take up work as a lumberjack and it was best for him to work alone. I loved my job as a teacher, but the cabin was too much of a drive to continue working there. I took up work as a bookkeeper online, part-time. We had so many natural resources to live off of, it helped when money was tight. It was easier to go hunting than drive into town for some groceries. I thought I'd fear the isolation, but I grew to thrive in it.

We loved sitting by the fire, reading books, falling asleep to the sound of crickets, and waking up to the chirping of birds. At night, I could stand in front of the sink, look out the kitchen window and see the beautiful, ever-knowing eyes of a barn owl as if he were a photograph. Every evening he'd look into our home as if to say, "what are you thinking?"

I could stay there in that cabin and relive every day, I felt such happiness there. We'd gotten into a fight, something that starts off small and turns into something explosive. He wanted to leave, I wanted to stay. He burst out the door into the night and I knew once he was on the other side of the door I couldn't protect him from what roamed in the wild.

They found him the next day, attacked by an unidentifiable animal. They thought some of the marks almost resembled an axe of some sort. It also piqued their interest that he fell into a trap he had set out. It baffled them that such an experienced hunter would tread out into the woods at night without any protection. I wished I had answers for them, I did admit that Gabriel would go drinking sometimes before hunting.

They had to give up the investigation, ruling it a terrible accident.

They believe I'd never recall what happened that night, but the truth is I'd never forget it. The owl is truly the wisest animal of all. When I see his eyes appear in my dreams I know what he's thinking, "what have you done?"