I have heterochromia.
My mom has it too, only hers is sectoral heterochromia. A part of her left eye is brown while most of it is blue. Mine’s complete. My right eye is brown, the left is blue. As a kid I’d get the most excited reaction out of the adults-
“His eyes are so beautiful!”
“Wow, they’re different colors!”
I’d like to say that my eyes are only one part of myself, that it’s just a slice of the pie that makes up me. But really, the only fascinating part of myself is the heterochromia. I’m average in grades. Height. Strength. IQ. Not much stunning charisma either- I tend to stick to myself.
But in the end, it’s my eyes that saved my life. And maybe the lives of a few others.
The killings started my sophomore year. A young couple going out to smooch in their car was found dead, mangled by some wild beast. Their faces had been eaten off, their tongues ripped out, and their eyes completely gone.
I didn’t know them, they went to the private school. All the same, the stories started up about the Gosbecks Knoll Beast.