My New Eyes Can See Through Clothes

Jack lay on the cold ground, his body still trembling from the effort it had taken to pull himself out of the river. He could feel the wet earth beneath his fingers, the dampness seeping into his clothes. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, and every inch of his body ached. He decided that he won't die, he won't give up but what he supposed to do now? What a man without his eyes can do?

As his thoughts spiraled, something strange happened. The world around him, once filled with the sounds of the river and the rustling of leaves, seemed to fade away. A silence settled over him, thick and ancient, like the stillness before a storm.

Then, a voice—soft at first, but growing in strength and clarity—echoed in his mind.

"You are not finished yet, Jack."

The voice was deep, resonant, and filled with an ageless authority. Jack froze, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn't the voice of anyone he knew. It wasn't even a voice that seemed human.

"Destiny has chosen you, as it has chosen countless before you. You will carry forward my legacy, and in doing so, you will find your purpose."

Jack's brow furrowed, his thoughts racing. What was this voice? Who was speaking to him? He tried to push the voice away, to silence it, but it was too strong, too overwhelming. It filled his mind completely, speaking words that seemed older than time itself.

"You have been tested. Stripped of what you once thought essential, you have survived. This is the mark of one who is destined for more than an ordinary life. You are chosen."

Jack's head pounded with confusion. Chosen? What could he possibly be chosen for? He had lost everything—his eyes, his future, his very identity. What could he offer the world now?

"Do not fear the darkness, Jack. You no longer need eyes to see the path that lies before you."

And then, as suddenly as it had come, the voice faded into the background, leaving behind only a strange, unsettling silence. Jack lay there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. The words were cryptic, full of prophecy and purpose, but none of it made sense to him. All he knew was that something was different now.

He was alive. Despite everything—despite the horrors he had endured—he was still breathing. And as he lay there, the dampness of the earth beneath him and the cool air filling his lungs, he realized that his body wasn't as broken as it had felt before. Yes, he was weak, but he could move. His arms and legs obeyed his commands. The agony that had been so overwhelming only moments ago seemed distant, like a fading memory.

He needed to get up.

Slowly, Jack pushed himself to his feet, his legs trembling but holding him upright. His head spun for a moment, and his knees threatened to buckle, but he steadied himself. He was alive. Somehow, he had survived, even after losing his eyes and nearly drowning in the river.

He didn't understand it—none of it made sense—but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn't give up now.

As he stood there, catching his breath, something strange caught his attention. His surroundings, once a blur of darkness and confusion, began to come into focus. At first, it was faint—just the barest outlines of shapes—but as the seconds passed, he could see more clearly. The trees, the river, the road nearby—all of it became visible to him, as though his eyes had never been taken.

But how was that possible?

Jack raised his hands to his face, his fingers brushing over the empty sockets where his eyes had once been. They were still gone. The pain of their loss was still fresh. Yet, somehow, he could see.

Before he could fully process this, something else caught his attention. Movement. Down the road, a small figure was walking slowly, unaware of the danger that was about to unfold. It was a little girl, no older than seven or eight, her tiny frame lost in the vastness of the road. She walked with a carefree innocence, her steps light, her head turning as if she were humming a tune only she could hear.

But Jack's heart lurched as he saw what was coming toward her—a car, speeding recklessly down the road, hurtling toward the girl with no intention of stopping.

Panic surged through him. There wasn't time to think. He had to act.

Without a second thought, Jack's legs moved, propelling him forward faster than he had ever run before. His muscles burned with the effort, but he didn't care. His body felt different—lighter, faster, more powerful than it had ever been. The road seemed to blur beneath his feet as he rushed toward the girl, his mind focused only on one thing: saving her.

The car roared closer, its engine revving as the driver showed no sign of stopping. Jack pushed himself harder, his body moving with a speed that defied all logic. He could feel the wind rushing past him, the ground disappearing beneath his feet, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was reaching her.

In a final burst of speed, Jack lunged forward, grabbing the girl and pulling her out of the way just as the speeding car screamed past. They tumbled to the side of the road, rolling over the rough ground as the car skidded to a halt further down the road.

Jack cradled the little girl in his arms, his chest heaving with the exertion. She looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, her tiny hands gripping his shirt in fear. He could feel her trembling, but she was safe.

"Are... are you okay?" Jack asked, his voice hoarse.

The girl nodded, her lip quivering as she stared at him in awe.

Before Jack could say more, the car that had almost killed the girl revved its engine again. Jack turned to look at it, his newfound vision sharpening on the driver's face. The man behind the wheel was glaring at him, his expression twisted with frustration and anger. And then, without warning, the car lurched forward, heading straight for Jack and the girl.

The realization hit Jack like a punch to the gut: the driver had been trying to kill the girl. And now, he was coming for them both.

Jack scrambled to his feet, pulling the girl behind him, but before the car could reach them, the sound of more engines filled the air. Jack turned, his vision focusing on a line of cars coming down the road—fifteen of them, all moving in unison toward him and the girl.

The man in the speeding car slammed on the brakes, his tires screeching as he made a sharp turn, fleeing down a side road to escape the approaching vehicles. Jack watched him go, his heart pounding in his chest.

As the fifteen cars neared, Jack felt a strange sense of foreboding wash over him. Whoever was in those cars, they were coming for him.

And they were coming fast.