I Want To Make You (Eyeless Jack X Prosthetist!Reader)

Chapter Eighteen

        Trying to shrink further into the metallic table, I hoped he wouldn't notice me. Of course, that was wishful thinking, I knew no matter how quiet and small I made myself, it wasn't going to matter. Ultimately, it wasn't going to change a damn thing. The tall figure bent his neck, allowing himself through the doorway without bumping his head. The stark blue mask I'd grown accustomed to slowly stalking his way towards me. Sharply inhaling, I held my breath in fear he could hear my rapidly escalating heartbeat.

"You're lively."

 The fucker spoke in a tone that could only be described as threatening. His voice sent chills down my spine, it held so many unearthly qualities to it. However, picking up on the signal of what he meant, I did my best to calm myself. As much as I hated to admit it, there was no use in hysterics. I could scream and holler all I wanted, but without a plan in mind, I doubt I was going to escape alive. That was if he was going to keep me alive long enough for me to formulate a plan. Besides,

 "You calmed down a bit. Are you normally this obedient?"

 I could feel myself bite back a rude remark at his statement, I'd already agitated him enough between my other playground insults, and that time I charged at him. To comfort your ever-growing anger and anxiety, you thought of how he was within kicking distance now. It was better to be able to see your enemy than to blindly swing at them. If he was within sight, you could observe him, make observations. You'd manage this somehow.

 "You seriously actually cut off your foot after I exchanged the chains. I was hoping you'd just die of dehydration or something."

 He was oddly talkative now, quite contrary to when we'd first met. I couldn't help but find it odd. He kind of awkwardly paced around the room, his black army boots clicking against the tile floor. As much as the room reminded you of a doctor's office, it held a sort of quality that made it eerier. It could've been some of the mud splotches and smears on the floor, or the fact the iridescent lights flickered every so often.

 Pop. Pop. Pop.

 Him popping his finger joints brought my attention over to where his hands were. He kind of huddled them close to his chest, popping each finger individually. As he paced around the room, though, I couldn't help but notice how his gaze never seemed to leave me. If I were in any better shape or situation, I might've told him to keep his eyes to himself. Maybe I'd tell him to leave and pace somewhere else, somewhere far far away from me; where I couldn't hear his fingers pop.

 Circling around the table, he analyzed my every move. I wanted nothing more than to kick him or hurt him in some way. However, I needed to live long enough to get out of here, live long enough to even have a chance. I would make it through this, whether I had to do it forcefully or not.

 The anger that burned at the back of my throat kept my anxiety at bay and allowed me to quell my need to cry. I could do that all later, in a safer place. The pain in my ankle still seared in agony, but I wouldn't give my captor the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me. God my mental state was fucked if I ever got out of this.

 "What do you want with me?" I asked, the words coming out more 'pleading' than I wanted it to. I figured if I was going to be stuck here for however long, I might as well get some questions answered. He grew still and stared at me. Oh, so we're going to ignore the captive now? How annoyingly funny. I felt bitter staring into the stark blue mask that haunted me.

 After a few more moments of silence, he finally gave an answer. "No reason."

 Fine, keep your secrets then.