For eyes speaketh

She had the eyes of death itself. No, not death. Death is kind. She had the eyes of purgatory. Almost like that of a small animal, a rodent that's designed to create havoc and spread ruthless diseases. The kind of horrible eyes of the cruel invilgator that caught you helping a friend out during an exam, or that of the unkind babu sitting behind his wooden desk looking at you through his beady eyes, telling you that you are screwed. And you ask me how can I distrust her without knowing her?