Seen Through The Watcher's Eyes

Chapter 1

 A loud rapping on my door woke me from a restless slumber suddenly. I coughed a few times, trying to clear my throat as well as stumble to my feet, the hangover making it increasingly difficult to make my way to the entrance of my office. The words "Jethro Sullivan-Private Investigator" stared at me backwards on the glass window in my entryway, something to focus on that wasn't a cracking pain in my head. A destination.

Unlocking the door and opening it, a small, slight Indian man walked in, the bright red bindi striking against his dark skin and marking him as a Hindu. I gestured for the man to enter, and he trepidaciously entered the somewhat messy office. Moving a few papers aside, I made room for the man to take a seat, who introduced himself as Janeesh with a firm handshake. I noticed he had a file in his hand, which he set down on a the less-than-tidy coffee table. My head was killing me, but the man didn't seem to notice anything amiss with me as he explained his problem. His daughter Amira, Janeesh explained, had been plagued with nightmares for many years, the kind that woke her half-mad and screaming like a banshee. He sought the greatest psychologists and medical examiners after he found her covered in her own blood. A picture from the file was procured and was laid in front of me. On it was a young woman with a similarly dark complexion, covered from head to toe in blood and scratches.

"She did it to herself, in her sleep, like she was possessed of some daemon. I had to help her, she might kill herself at this rate." His accent was very polite and his tone was that of a man exhausted, but he continued. "One such doctor insisted she be hospitalized, to which I quickly agreed. He helped me put her into the Arkham Asylum in Cold Spring, New York. Within a few days, it seemed, she was no longer having her nightmares. I thought she was cured! Doctor Nox gave us a prescription and told us everything was well, that as long as she continued to take the medication. For almost a year, I thought my little girl had been cured, until one day I found out she had been keeping a diary."

Janeesh paused for a moment, and pulled out a few pictures of some of the pages from the book. Monstrous figures and demons stared back at me and words in a script I didn't understand littered the pages. It was chaotic, to say the least, and Janeesh spoke while I searched the pictures for some meaning. "It's Sanskrit, considered a holy language to Hindustani such as myself. I took this diary and read through perhaps 40 pages. She spoke of a 'Watcher,' a comforter, a man that would watch over her in her sleep. No longer would she have terror with her dreams, but wonder. She spoke of amazing and terrible monsters, grotesque acts committed against women, children and even animals of the most vile and gory nature. The 'Watcher' would guide her through these gruesome scenes, and even mock the pain they suffered. She confessed to finding it funny when he'd mock them, and even made jokes of her own. She...even started to call them her friends."

He looked away, and pulled out one final picture. It was a picture of the same bloodied woman from before, laying in her bed. Taken from some sort of night vision camera, she looked peaceful as she laid in a bed, eyes closed and surely sleeping. I didn't see at first, but as I looked more upon the picture, I could see what appeared to be a man standing over her in the shadows, leaning in as if to kiss her cheek while she rested. His eyes were black as pitch and gave no reflection as they would normally in such a picture, and it appeared he was looking directly at the camera. But most horrific of all was the smile. His lips pulled back far more than a human's should have, even past the ears and into the back of the head, and his teeth were razor-sharp looking and filed into points like that of a shark. He had hooked claws for fingers, and appeared to be reaching for the girl and no hair on his head. The rest of the body wasn't clear, as if cloaked in shadow.

I looked up at Janeesh, and then back at the horrific picture. "The day after I saw this picture I took away the medications and the diary. She threw herself from her balcony on the second floor that same night. The diary is nowhere to be found, however." Janeesh's voice lowered even more, sounding as if weary of speaking. "No one believes me, Mr. Sullivan. Could you find out what happened to my daughter? I will pay you whatever you want, just please, help this old man find some peace."