Glass Breaks Too Easily. (Eyeless Jack x Reader Book 2)

Chapter Eight.

There he stood. Just outside the place we had thought for oh so long was oh so safe. Black and white monochrome gave way to uncontrolled brush and long forgotten lawn; I didn't know if he was simply making an appearance or making a statement. 

There was no fight to be had; I could only assume that he had been keeping tabs on us and knew just as much. With two of our proxies out on a whirlwind mission to find the other Jack, we were all left borderline defenseless. Of course, I knew some combat, but not nearly enough to even hold a candle to the fucking clown. Who could I call? Tim? He would speak nonsense into the phone, regain some sort of consciousness and cry for a solid five minutes, then promptly hang up. I doubted Brian would be bothered to answer the phone at all; it would take away from the very precious and very limited time left that he had with Tim. I tore my stare away from death who lingered just outside these crumbling walls to look over my monitors. All I was met with was my own reflection; it was a sort of bittersweet way to go, really. If I were to die right then by the hands of a clown, the very last thing I'd see is my own reflection.

It taunted me, toyed with my brain a bit more than I was used to. I had already been dead for quite some time, so I wasn't really sure how a second death would really go. I hadn't ever had to think about it. But seeing him just outside with that stupid, scarily wide grin on his face definitely forced me to think about it, and I didn't particularly like the outcomes.

I never really had to think about using technology; if I wanted it to do something, instantly, it was done. However, something was forcing me to hesitate. I willed for my monitors to turn on, to shut down, to fucking do something. But nothing happened.

Was this... fear? 

Suddenly, I wasn't dead. I wasn't dealing with the intensity of looming dread.

I was drowning. A strong, calloused hand held me under. Why?

Why, Dad?

...

Every sharp intake was a searingly cold rush directly to the lungs; as a child, I thought I was learning to breathe underwater. Turns out, that's actually called drowning.

And there I was all over again. Drowning. Fear wasn't an emotion I was unfamiliar with, but it was absolutely one I was uncomfortable with. I watched my stupid little monitor reflection tremble and shake; I couldn't associate this reflection to myself lest I crumble alongside the mansion when time came.

Though...I knew time had already come. We had been sitting ducks the moment (Name) and Toby had left, and while I had a feeling it was going to be that way, I chose not to say anything. There was nothing that could have been done, regardless of if they had stayed or not. They would have died alongside the rest of us.

It wasn't a heroic thing to do in any way, but I had never claimed to be a hero. In a way, I hadn't stopped them from leaving because of the fear of having to look at my reflection during the aftermath. In a room full of monitors, it's pretty hard to avoid seeing yourself.

But, being trapped in a room full of monitors that wouldn't turn on, it was impossible not to see myself.

A little boy who's life had been taken far too soon. A child with a vendetta against the world; a kid with something to prove. 

All I had ever wanted to do was live. I wanted a chance to get to my old man's age, maybe have a few kids of my own or something. But that chance was ripped from me and shoved down my throat to sit in my spirit for the rest of all eternity, brewing into anger and maliciousness.