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

Chapter Two.

* EXTREME GORE WARNING. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

As I looked up into the night sky, I hoped we had been gazing at its beauty together even though we were so far apart. I knew I couldn't stomach being beside her, but knowing that we shared the same earth at the same time was warmth enough to bar me from the bitter cold. I knew what I had done; I had muddied every reachable pathway to her so there could be no communication whatsoever. I knew how her feelings regarding me would have shifted once I even attempted to cut that cord, and so I had to completely demolish the idea of a reconciliation all together in order for not only her, but myself, to heal. And it felt completely selfish to allow myself to linger on the idea that I needed healing, too. What had I been through that would break me enough to need healing? What had I lost? It was, more or less, what I had gained that inevitably destroyed me.

I knew what she had lost as I had been the cause of it. She had lost damn near everything, and I had bore witness to her heart re-breaking over, and over, and over again. I knew for a fact that more than once I had been the catalyst of her heartbreak. She knew, even in the early years, that there wasn't much of a chance to save me. Hell, why did I ever need saving? What could she have seen that was worth saving?

Perhaps she had strikingly similar questions for me. I snarled to myself as I let my heavy chest linger on the bittersweet idea for a moment. Undoubtedly, she had questions- and I pitied her for them, but nothing more. She knew better than anybody that no answer was always an answer in and of itself; yet the notion that she still very well may have thought about me, even after all these years, dimly reignited the feeling I had all but fled my home because of.

If she did have any thoughts about me, I was sure that they weren't very pleasant in nature; I made sure she had no other way to see my absence except black and white. She was supposed to believe that I had left her on the premise of not wanting to see her die; whether or not she did wasn't something I had stayed back to witness. I had set the scene well enough to convince even myself of my false narrative, I had no doubt that she had also fallen victim to it.

My truth was conceited and unbearable; it was nothing short of a self-inflicted punishment, a cross much too big for me to bear yet the pain of carrying it was something I deserved, perhaps the only damn thing I deserved. 

Her voice spoke nothing but encouragement and sung praises into my ears; she was all too human to have been allowed to fall in love with something like me. If there truly was a God, he would have never allowed us to meet. He would have never allowed someone like her to develop feelings for someone like me. He would have never allowed any of it; he would have rather put me out of my misery than to burden me with the weight of shattering the already broken life of someone so... innocent.

With every thought of her, my curse, my hindrance, my truth, came bubbling to the surface to remind me just how evil I really was.

The ferocity burning behind her (eye color) irises was much too powerful to be extinguished with measly training or conditioning; I knew much better than to truly believe that she wouldn't survive her transition. I knew she was going to flourish, and that was the part that terrified me.