Eyes of the Divine (Yandere!Eyeless Jack X GN!Reader)

Being Selfish ft. My Embarrassed Friends

if you're confused about who marigold is, i highly recommend re-reading chapter two ! she's the lady in the antique shop, and while i edited the chapter i decided to expand on her character and give her a name.

It was a relief to be able to look outside and not see someone staring back at you. Before that relief, though, was a few minutes of fear. Jack's parents pounded on the door, shouting threats until it all went silent—presumably they gave up. All three of you watched a car drive off down the road at an alarming speed, and the familiar, quiet blanket descended upon the street once more

You took advantage of their absence and went out for a walk, giving Greg and Gabby some alone time—as well as giving yourself some much needed fresh air and solitude.

Winter was preparing to get into full swing, and Gabby made sure that you were wrapped up in a thick coat. She wouldn't tell you whose coat it was, and instead told you, 'It's the warmest we've got, so you should be alright.'

You weren't that bothered about its original owner, though. A coat was a coat, and you didn't have the mental capacity to care about using someone else's coat. As long as it kept you warm, you were grateful to have been given it.

No breeze swept through the streets, brushing away the decaying leaves that had long dropped from the branches of the trees above. Very few cars were driving around (everyone was at work), and the only people you saw were a group of school children being shepherded to a nearby park for a PE lesson. You let out a small chuckle, easily picking out the ones who were eager to run and those who would rather be inside where it was a lot warmer.

Hands tucked deep inside your coat pockets, you turned corner after corner, mindlessly wandering. You had no idea where you were going, and you should have been worried about getting lost, but you weren't. Maybe the incoming fog would consume you. That would be nice.

Maybe I could walk all the way home. The town Greg lived in was one over from yours, so surely you could be there by nightfall. You weren't sure if exhaustion would bother you, but you had no idea which direction your town was, and the only street signs you could find led you further and further into the settlement, right to the town centre. There was nothing you could do but follow the signs.

Right. Left. Right. Left. The vibrations of your foot coming into contact with the pavement reverberated through your bones, providing a comforting rhythm of sensory input that allowed your mind to become as blank as it could possibly be. You knew that thinking of Jack would only make you upset, and there weren't any new thoughts that you could have; your head had been running in circles for days now. What else could you think of? Work? You were due back in under twenty-four hours, so that would consume your thoughts tomorrow (and you refused to stress about it until you were officially working again).

The sound of an ancient, grumpy car engine caught your attention. Trying to subtly glance over your shoulder, you saw that an old, K-reg Peugeot was trying its best to park properly on the kerb before promptly giving up a good six inches or so away from the pavement.

You kept walking. It wasn't your problem. And then it was your problem, because an elderly woman shouted, 'Excuse me, are you from around here? I need to find a resident.'

'Sorry, ma'am, but I'm not a local,' you said, stopping turning around. 'Maybe I could—' Your voice died in your throat. You recognised the old dear, and after a rapid spew of names you said: 'Marigold? Is that you?' It was the owner of the antique shop where you had purchased Jack's pocket knife, leading to your eventual meeting. (The firework that set your relationship in motion. Maybe you should thank her.)

The woman's face lit up. '(Y/N), dear, just the person I wanted to see!' She shuffled closer, grandmotherly concern etched deeply into her wrinkled features. 'There's a young man in my car. I found him wandering through town; the poor thing doesn't look very good, but he seems to know you. Is he a friend of yours...?'