Eyes vs carol

Frozen hinges on the trailer door wailed, a horrid sound that made the skin along her spine tighten. His flashlight blinded her, forced her to glance away, clanking door and shuffling footsteps her only sign they were sealed in together.
“Hello dear,” sang a man’s voice—his tone was playful like a drunk’s; it had no inhibitions. “Guess whooo?”
Carol straightened under the gaze of a monster, an old habit. “Remember General Gambari? Ever watched him on the news? War criminal. Had whole villages… cleansed.” And she’d been surprised when his eyes hadn’t seemed special: neither empty nor cold, just wrinkled like a father’s. “He came to the States once. I got him coffee.”
“Oh. That must have been nice,” crowed that singsong voice. He kept the flashlight in her eyes, his silhouette examining the carpentry tools.
“I spat in his coffee. I’d say you’re only the third-, fourth-scariest thing I’ve ever spat on.”
“Ah, getting a little ahead of—”
Carol hawked and what was left of her spit flew above the flashlight. There came a satisfying smack, a short growl. Her courage liquefied at the sound.
His shadow knelt. “Did you know,” he said with the clear enunciation of an instructor capturing the attention of children, “that a human can be addicted to anything? Isn’t that fascinating? Why, I once met a man who liked to…” He yanked her manacled hands closer to the darkness masking his face. “…cut his fingernails.”
Rather than biting, he play-chewed—loud lip-smacking noises dragging from Carol a squirm and a short shriek.
...
He coughed. It cut off his words, thank God, but a second cough speckled his blood on Carol’s face. Crimson oozed off his lower lip. His naked chest cracked like dry wood, producing a shudder, and something slick with black blood erupted through him. It appeared as though a girlish hand had just sprouted from his flesh—it flexed there, turned over, and drizzled. Then it sucked wetly back into him and he crumpled.
The flashlight bounced and rolled across the floor. It illuminated his heaped body, then a trailer door left open, and at last a figure who’d been behind him—oh God, what is that. At the briefest glance into its burning eyes, fear overrode her senses and Carol passed out on the icy trailer floor.


Chapter 17, Page 258-260