I just agreed to tell my story, because I am getting paid. With that said, let us start by introducing myself. My name used to be Oliver, but now people call me the Eye Ripper. I hated that name, but I guess I earned it.
Before my life was torn apart, I had a wife and a 9 year old daughter. My life was closely perfect. I worked as an astronomer, and then one day when I got back from work I was completely scarred. I saw my wife in the floor, and she was not sleeping. My daughter: nowhere to be found.
Just when I was calling the police, a group of soldiers arrive to my house and arrest me. Why would the soldiers be in my house? Why were they arresting me? Behind them, policeme my wife's corpse with no explanation. I just screamed with all my anger, desperation, and sadness. I felt like I was getting breathless by watching what was going on.
It felt like a nightmare, yet it was as real as facts. I couldn’t stop crying. The amount of force they had to use to restrain was indescribable, my pain made me so strong I didn’t even realize that it took four people to stop me going bonkers. After I ran out of tears they lock me in this strange room, and start asking questions like where was I, etc. But there was one was question that made so furious, frustrated, and mad that I reacted in the worst way possible. WHY WOULD I KILL MY WIFE? That was the most infurating question I've been asked.
Policemen were very... rude. It was all so unfair, and strange. They let me go, but I immediately get fired. Rumors spread quicker than a pandemic. Everything I loved in this life, gone. I had nothing else to loose, since nobody wanted to be associated with me. Court days were nightmares. This lawyer was so stupid, and I cannot describe the amount of rage I felt. Yes, I ended up in prison. I do not know how that happened, but I am 6 months in. No one really cared about me in my old workplace. I was, let us say, a loner. You may be assuming that because we were all "professionals", there would be no bad blood between co-workers. Wrong. That place was hell. Well, not as bloody as prison.
I am conscious enough to realize that my mental health has downgraded incredibly by being here. I had to defend myself, so I made my "roomates" believe that I inded killed my wife and daughter. Now I also believe the damn story, and I can't control the urge to tear apart someone's eye and eat it front of them.
I do not eat eyes, but I collect them. I love to see their face before taking the eye. It is hilarious, marvelous, magnificent! Nobody messes with me ever since my first victim. That individual thought that they were going to shatter me into pieces... brutal force is not compared to intellectual force.
Eventually, I let they beat me so that they felt they were the alpha of this place. Little did they know that I was able to roam freely because my father taught me how to unlock almost every type of cell, door, window. And about security? Those imbeciles are all paid to guard the strongest people in here - of course they wouldn't put an eye on me the first days.
Now it is a little harder to sneak out, but I have managed to be respected. I still do not know where do this person writing knows me from, but as long as I am getting paid I am willing to do anything. I am also willing to know where in the fuckin' hell is my daughter, and who in the fuck put me in this shithole.
?: Told ya, it's a win-win. Not only did I told your story, but I'm also freeing you.
Eye Ripper: Whatever, let us just leave before I kill someone else.