Chapter 23

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  {Reader's POV}

            "...in other news, the Jets are going to..."


            Grogginess clouded my mind as I rolled over, quietly wishing for the unfamiliar female voice to go away so I could go back to sleep. Of course it didn't leave, making me grunt and pull the blanket over my head. There was a sudden silence, making me smile in relief, until I felt someone poke my shoulder. Frowning, I nestled tighter under the covers. "No... five more minutes," I mumbled. There was a pause, and the poke was replaced by a hand shaking my shoulder, making me grunt. "Buddy, no..."


            "Don't call me that!" The demonic-sounding hiss made my eyes pop open and I bolted upright, gasping as I found myself face-to-face with Jack. I tried to scoot away from him only for my back to press against the back of the couch, leaving me effectively trapped. His hands shot out and gripped my shoulders, so tight I could almost feel his claw-like nails through his gloves, and as he spoke his voice was laced with that same demonic quality. "Never say that name in front of me again. Am I clear?" My face probably drained of color as I stared at him, nodding shakily.


            "I-I won't," I whispered, trembling violently. "I pr-promise, I was j-just as-s-sleep, a-and..." I trailed off into babbling as I began to sob. His grip on my shoulders tensed before loosening, and after a moment he released it entirely. He reached for my face and I winced, reflexively raising my arms to protect it, making him freeze. Slowly he let his arm fall limply to his side and sighed before walking away. I sat on the couch shaking, hugging myself as I fought off the urge to cry. This is what I get for letting myself fall asleep on the couch.


            As I sat there with my eyes squeezed shut, I heard the fridge and cabinet open followed by a series of clinks. A few moments later he tapped my shoulder, making me yelp and flinch, spinning to face him. He stood behind the couch staring at me, unfazed by my reaction, and held out a bowl. "Breakfast." I glanced at him and then the bowl in surprise. Frosted Flakes? But why were they... Oh, right. I'd told him they were supposed to be refrigerated.


            "Th-thanks," I mumbled, hesitantly taking the bowl from him. His hands hovered in the air for a second before falling to his sides, and I turned to begin eating it only to pause. No spoon. Hesitating, I silently raised it to my lips to carefully sip from the bowl, trying not to let any drip onto me. Watching me from behind, after a few moments Jack headed to the kitchenette and I heard a drawer open. Metal clinking followed, and he returned to tap me on the shoulder, extending a spoon to me.


            "If you needed a spoon, you could have just said so," he commented, and I shrugged meekly. I didn't want to respond; I might say the wrong thing and make him mad. Lately I'd been more comfortable around him, but my usual confidence had faded a bit today thanks to my rude awakening. A few moments passed before Jack sighed, realizing I probably wouldn't respond. He silently picked up the remote and unmuted the TV, allowing the news anchor to speak again. At this point she'd moved on to a murder.


           "...and there is still no sign of why the mother did that," she reported grimly. "Police have yet to track the origin of the candy, either."


           "Candy?" I mumbled absently.


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