"Your Eyes." {Eyeless Jack x Reader}

chapter 6

the shower felt so nice, you almost forgot you were kidnapped. the heat of the water practically burned your skin, but damn did it feel comforting, like a warm hug. you scrubbed your skin until it was raw, red and aching. you scrubbed until it was numb, scrubbed until it felt like you'd rubbed away every bit of blood and gore. You scrubbed until the slight nostalgic smell, no stench, of pennies and metal was gone.

you wrapped the towel around yourself and opened the door of the bathroom; beyond it was the room that you'd been staying in—the bed was neatly made, the floor swept and the hardwood beneath your feet still felt wet, it had been mopped. Folded neatly on the bed was a quilt, made of various fabrics, all of which had some shade of (f/c) on them. On top of that was folded clothing, socks, and a clean pair of converse-style shoes.

And—even better—your pack of cigarettes, a blue lighter, and an ashtray sat neatly on the nightstand beside a beige colored lamp.

Almost immediately, and too quickly, you walked over to the nightstand and swiped the lighter and cigarettes. you placed one very gently in your mouth, and lit it, taking a deep breath of smoke. You felt your nerves relax almost immediately.

You turned to grab the clothes on the bed, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror directly across from the nightstand. Like the other furniture in the room, it was made of a dark wood and a little rough around the edges—it bore a number of smudges and scratches in the wooden frame. And then you saw yourself: your eye bags were prominent, and the cut in your cheek stood out; looking at it made you realize how bad it actually hurt, and how gross is looked. It was deep, and definitely required stitches, but you took a deep breath and looked down at the clothing.

You moved the socks and shoes over and first picked up the shirt; it was a white t-shirt. plain and simple. Below that were a pair of gray sweatpants, and then below that the quilt.

You put on the clothing and looked at yourself in the mirror again. You felt better than you had, yet still wrong. Like you weren't there or like nothing was real. A state of disassociation.

You placed your finger very gently onto the cut on your face and almost immediately, you felt a violent stinging and a dangerous warmth. A fever.

Infection. That made sense, after all it hadn't been cleaned or cared for in any way for three days now. As you got closer to the mirror, looking closer at the scabbing and yellow gash, you heard a loud series of knocks at the bedroom door. You jumped, your eyes bulging out of your head and your body frozen.

"(Y/n)?" It was Jack.

You somehow found your voice and unfroze, chills ran up and down your spine. You took the cigarette out of your mouth to speak. "Yes?"

"Are you...okay?" The question seemed genuine, a shock to you. His voice was still flat and almost stoic, but you sensed some form of caring. After the blow out earlier, that made sense. You didn't understand why exactly he cared so much, but he did for some odd reason.

"Actually..." you groaned; you did not want to speak to him, let alone have him touch you, but you needed medical attention. If the infection were to spread, you could very easily die; you needed to survive this and find a way to escape. "The cut on my face is infected."

"Fuck..." you heard him mumble through the door. "I forget how gentle humans are."

Gentle? It was an interesting way to describe the things you ate. You imagined that he viewed humans like cattle, I mean, you did watch him tear human beings to shreds like a wolf to cattle. You felt more chills now, going up your arms and on your face.

"Are you...am I okay to come in?" he mumbled.

"Yeah." You looked over to the nightstand and smashed your cigarette into the ashtray.