Letters To You // Eyeless Jack x Reader

Scintilla//22

Scintilla: Spark – a hint or trace of something that barely suggests its presence.
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The morning sun peaked through the cracks of dark blinds that covered the windows of (Y/N)'s room. Hadn't it been for them, the girl wouldn't know if it was morning or not. She didn't sleep last night, too scared of what Jack might do - but to her surprise, she didn't even hear him come near her bedroom door.

The whole night passed by quick, which didn't surprise (Y/N) who spent it laying in bed and thinking. The thoughts of what she could do to save her life ran through her head non-stop. It was for nothing though, this was the first time she was met with a situation like that - no traces of it in books or shows and documentaries.

(Y/N) frowned as she remembered Jack's little prank from last night.

Why would he speak up suddenly during the call? If it was some kind of test, it was a shitty one.

Hadn't she reacted in time, she would be dead – and something told her Oliver would be the next one after. It made her skin crawl, but also relieved her knowing that she managed to save herself quick.

Sunday was peaceful. There weren't many people outside, most just resting inside their own houses. The smell of scrambled eggs frying on the small pan filled the small living room area. With a fork in her hand, (Y/N) stared out the window from her spot. The girl could feel the smothering gaze from the boy that sat on the couch. She had no idea what to do about today.

Dragging her fingertips over the fork, she pulled the eggs from the pan and made her way to the table. Usually, (Y/N) would do some work around the house or watch a movie, but now she felt as if she needed to throw a whole show just to stay alive.

Jack wouldn't stop staring at her every move, making her feel uncomfortable.
She looked at her plate, stabbing the food with the fork to somehow show her discomfort. The boy didn't seem to pick up on what she was trying, but he did sense the tension. He wouldn't stop it though.

"Could you please stop staring. I just want to eat..."

Every time she spoke, her voice would crack in some kind of a way. Subtle or not, she didn't care. Her voice cracking was the least of her concerns at the moment. (Y/N) was on the edge, barely hanging by a thread. The nausea of how the clock was ticking, minutes turning into hours, the time running out – was bad.

"Oh, does the company bother you? You seemed to like it when Oliver stayed at your apartment." Yes, I love company. Company from a friend, not someone who sees me as dinner.

She tensed when she heard him get up from the couch and sit on the chair across her.

"Do I scare you that much? That hurts my feelings, you know?" You are a killer.

(Y/N) tried her best not to lose it right now. With shaky hands, she forced a bite down her throat, chewing making her feel sick. It killed her to compress her fear, her insides felt like they were melting constantly, with no end.

"I liked you much more when you wrote me letters. You seemed like someone worth talking to. Looking at you now, it annoys me that you are so quiet." What am I supposed to talk about? The weather? How's school? As if he'd know how to respond to those.

"I'm sorry." She managed to choke out. Grabbing her full plate, she returned it to the counter and walked to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she slid down, burying her head in her knees.

(Y/N) hated this feeling of powerlessness. If she only knew what she needed to do to prove her worth, maybe it would be easier. Given no context to the boy's demands, she was left with nothing. How do you prove your worth to a serial killer?