Wound: An injury to living tissue caused by a cut, blow, or other impact, typically one in which the skin is cut or broken.
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Jack didn't plan to run into a problem on a Tuesday. After all, he had been laying low for almost a month, rarely killing. He didn't know that the creature has been roaming around this forest. Last time he heard about it, that thing was countries away.
Jack could very well defend himself, had he been prepared. He only knew about two others that roamed around the forest he resided in. So when he got attacked suddenly, he had no time to react. He had advanced senses, yes, but that thing was known for being extremely quiet and fast.
Now, laying on the hard floor of (Y/N)'s apartment with claw prints all over his body, bleeding – Jack was in pain. His mask was lifted up to his nose, uncovering the minor bruises on his chin. Looking up at the girl he let out a pained yell, trying to tell her to help.
It was stupid, he was very much powerless right now, she could easily grab the gun from her room and finish him off with some bullets. He hoped that thought wouldn't cross her mind.
Looking at the boy covered in blood that wailed in pain, (Y/N) tried her best to shake off the shock that glued her feet to the floor. Her body only allowed her to move when she heard him yell in pain.
Terrifying.
She ran to pull out the chair for him, rushing to get him up and help. She had no idea why she was doing this. She could tie him up right now and call the police. Never see him again. But she didn't.
Instead, she sat him on the chair, grabbed the kitchen scissors and cut through his hoodie.
He better not kill me for this.
Removing the fabric from his cut up body, she ran to the bathroom to bring the first aid kit she had. Thankfully, none of the materials have been used from it.
"What the hell happened to you?" she questioned, her eyes only now seeing what state he actually was in. There were claw marks all over the upper half of his body.
What caused this?
"Nothing." Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance. The more mysterious he was being, the more she wanted to hand him over to the police. She decided that she'll try and question him later, now focusing on cleaning up this mess. He almost had no reaction to the alcohol hitting his skin, besides clenching his jaw a couple of times.
Impressive, the girl thought, but it makes sense considering he isn't really human.
Jack should consider himself lucky for (Y/N)'s ability to stitch up wounds. Those videos she watched when she was bored really paid off. Covering him in bandages, she took a better look at the masked boy.
It appeared that the liquid coming from his eyes flowed in larger amount – Is he crying? The liquid glided down his neck, making its way to his chest. Grabbing a tissue, (Y/N) began gently wiping it off, noticing how warm it was.
What the hell was that liquid?
The slight metallic smell of the liquid would make (Y/N) think that it was Jack's blood, but the blood coming from his wounds was red. It was very confusing to her. Taking another tissue, she slowly started to wipe the liquid from the lower half of his face.
The sudden touch made the boy freeze. Thinking that he was going to try and punch or push her away, (Y/N) pulled her hand away slightly, waiting for Jack to say something.
"It's fine. Just don't touch the mask."
What was underneath that mask? Why did he have the cults mask if he said he wasn't a part of it?
Jack saying that he wasn't a part of the cult was the only thing she could believe him on. She never wanted to hear the tone of his voice like it was back when she asked him about it. Comparing his normal voice to the one he had back then, it sounded like two different people.
"I'm done. Wait here."
The girl packed the things back into the kit and went back to the bathroom. Taking a bigger bucket she poured warm water in it and took a small towel.
What the hell am I doing at this point?
As she put the bucket and the towel on the kitchen table, the girl ran to her room and took the clothes she previously gave Jack, together with some clean, old sheets.
Her first task was to cover the couch with the old sheets, not wanting to get it bloody in case his wounds re-open. Now turning her attention to Jack, who apparently didn't move once while she did all of this, (Y/N) made her way back to the bucket and the towel.
Hey mom and dad, did you know that I am hiding a serial killer? I am also taking care of him too, might as well call him your grandchild-
The loud exhale she let out on purpose made her stop the stupid thoughts occupying her head. It also made Jack slightly turn his head towards her, however he remained silent.
Squeezing the excess water out of the towel, she began cleaning some of the dried blood that splattered on Jack's body. It was only then when it hit her.
I tended the wounds of a half naked serial killer. And now I am cleaning him.
She couldn't stop the slight heat that she felt spread across her cheeks and ears, feeling much more frustrated than embarrassed.
When she finally finished cleaning the blood stains, she helped the boy put on the shirt she brought for him, leaving the room right after so he could change everything else and sleep.
If he slept at all.
Sitting on her bed, she looked at the clock, seeing that she had maybe an hour and a half to sleep. Still vary of the killer in her living room, she debated if going to sleep was a good idea at all. However, her eyes didn't want to debate with her – so she ended up sleeping anyway.
When her alarm rang, (Y/N) jolted out of the bed. Going out of her room to the bathroom quietly, she prayed that Jack was asleep. All the lights were off, and sun still didn't start to rise, so (Y/N) had to try her best to navigate in the dark. It was painfully annoying to get ready without making any noise, but she managed.
Walking out of the apartment, the girl remembered Jack's cut up hoodie and wondered if he had a new one. Oliver didn't leave many clothes in her house, only two shirts and a pair of sweatpants.
Scrunching her nose, she thought about how Jack probably won't leave until his wounds heal a little and how he'll probably make her sew his hoodie back up. Sighing in annoyance, she pulled out her phone and texted Lauren.
"Won't be coming today, I've got a stomach ache."
No college today, time for shopping.
Before (Y/N) left work, she asked Tanya if there was a store with cheaper clothes near the café, the excuse being that she wanted to buy some hoodies for Oliver so that he can paint over them.
That's how she ended up with two bags full of men's clothes. The embarrassment she felt while letting the lady at the register keep telling her how "her boyfriend will be happy with the clothes" was immaculate.
It wasn't worth trying to explain, old ladies never believe anything anyway.
As she entered her apartment, she saw Jack still laying down on the couch, but this time awake. Placing the bags on the table, she heard Jack speak.
"What is that?"
"Some clothes for you. You probably aren't going to leave any time soon, and I'm not letting you sleep on my couch with bloody and sweaty clothes. Oh, and your hoodie is ruined beyond repair."
The boy tried to get up, but to no avail – the wounds still stung, and he was weak from the fight. (Y/N) only looked at him with a blank expression before turning herself towards the kitchen counter, ready to make herself some lunch. She felt more bolder and less afraid of him now that he wasn't able to do much.
Jack didn't speak at all while she was doing her own thing, making her feel weird. Looking back at him again, she decided to turn on the TV and hand him some water. He never asked, but she didn't care. He can't get up on his own anyway.
She placed the cup on the coffee table and offered her hand to him, helping him sit and move his mask up. Giving him the water, she watched as he downed it in barely two gulps.
"You could've asked for water if you were thirsty."
"And you would just give it to me?" Jack mocked.
"What am I doing now then?" she asked, making him press his lips into a thin line. Yeah, no shit.
Handing him another cup of water, and then two more, she turned back to the counter and continued making lunch while he watched her. (Y/N) expected many things from the masked killer, but hearing him, with the softest voice a little above a whisper say –
"Thank you."
-was something she never could see coming.
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And here is the other chapter, as promised. I'm a little late but I've watched Eurovision, which is a very valid excuse, thank you.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter and take care of yourselves! <3