The Box, Monochrome and Colors (Laughing Jack x Reader)

Your Childhood and Death

You should had never had open that door. You shouldn't have cared so much.

What you saw was horrifying. Isaac- or his corpse at least- was hanging on the wall, his wrists pinned down by nails. His insides were gone and was replaced by those colorful candies you always noticed that was in his pockets. All that was left was his heart. And it wasn't beating. His mother was sobbing on the ground, beside various tools that looked like the ones your dad would have in his workshop which were covered in vomit and blood. You didn't know what to say or feel or do. You just stood there looking at him and his mother. His mother turned around. It was dark but you could see the tears and the trail of vomit that she forgot to wipe.

"(Y-Y/N)? We have to help Isaac! He's still alive! I-I saw his heart still move! C-call the police- the ambulance- hell, even your parents! M-my baby was killed! Jack! Jack killed him!"
"Jack?" You asked. Your voice was so hush it seemed to be a whisper.
"His imaginary friend! That fucking monochrome carny killed my baby! I-I should've listened to him. Isaac, I'm so sorry!" She replied, falling into your arms. You felt something thick and sticky cling to your (S/C) arms. Was it her blood? Or her son's?

"(Y/N)!" You heard your mother exclaimed. She sees you. She sees the murder scene. She screams. Your dad sees.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!" Your father roared. It was your first time to hear adults use such language let alone twice in a row. Everything seemed wrong. A familiar tune rung in your ears.

"Pop goes the weasel," a voice sang which was followed by laughter. The voice was gravely and the laughter was... Maniacal. Insane. Your mother enveloped you in an embrace and covered your ears. It was at that moment you realized that tears were streaming down your face. You didn't sob. It was just tears. And while you were crying that laughter still went on and on and on.