Hostage | Eyeless Jack x Reader

Feed Me

(Y/n)'s brain buzzed to a start, making her aware that her face was planted into the hardwood floors. She groaned, propped herself up on her elbows, and struggled to open her eyes.

Her head began to pound the moment her eyes saw the morning daylight, making her groan and rub them with her hand. She had the craziest dream; it must have made her thrash out of her bed. She'd have to stop eating right before she went to sleep.

(Y/n) sighed, opened her eyes again despite her headache, and looked around.

Oh God.

The bookshelf in front of her closet. The gun on the floor. The blood splatter on the wood and the scabbed cuts on her cheek.

That wasn't a dream.

She quickly shoved herself up, grabbing her gun on the way, and ran downstairs. After nearly tripping, she skidded into the kitchen and began to look for her coat. She'd have to catch the first train to town, grab the police, then bring them back.

As (Y/n) made a mess of her kitchen, her mind began to catch up with her body. It would take the police nearly all day to get to her house if she went into town. There were no streets connecting Markwood's main square and her house, hence why she took the train. Cruisers were required, so they'd have to make a circle, cutting through the neighboring town of Citadel, before taking a few backroads to get to her long, dirt street. The trip could take hours, and the man could easily escape without her being there.

Let alone telling them that a strange, blind, masked man with claws and animalistic strength broke into her house and she had him in her closet? They'd never believe that. It would be a waste of time and money to take the train now just to be told that she was going insane.

So there she sat, squatted in her kitchen with one hand buried into her hair.

She needed coffee.

(Y/n) groaned as she pushed herself back up, shuffling over to her old coffee machine and punching the necessary buttons. Ten minutes later, she was chugging the steaming hot liquid, ignoring how her eyes started to tear up at the heat and instead thought.

Talking to him couldn't be the worst idea in the world.

She tilted her head back, draining her mug before dropping it into the sink. She'd wash it later, and by later she meant within the next week. She had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

She shakily made her way back up the staircase, the caffeine boost kicking in a little too hard. The man was still silent upstairs, but (Y/n) doubted he was still asleep. Heck, she doubted he had slept at all being jammed in that tiny closet knowing anything could happen.

She snickered to herself as she entered her bedroom. A man like that being scared? Yeah, right.

"Now what?" She whispered to herself, eyeing the closet.

Going soft on him would be the stupidest thing she could do. Using pleases and thank yous would get her nowhere, it would just make her look vulnerable and weak. No, she'd have to act tough. Easier said than done when you considered the situation.

(Y/n) frantically shook her head, shooing both stray hairs and thoughts from her head. There was no way she'd just sit here and keep this man in her closet forever, she'd just have to woman up and do it.

She grabbed her gun from her back, took a deep breath in, and approached her silent closet.

3...2...1...

(Y/n) swiftly kicked at the bookshelf, the force enough to rattle and shake the door behind it. Bangs echoed throughout the room as she kicked until her foot was sore.