Knock knock knock. It's pouring outside. You can hear the rain as it pelts the roof of your home, echoing the sound of rocks more than that of water. But the knocking is a noise completely separate from the rain; one that is out of place in the quiet of your bedroom. You turn over in your bed, gazing at the window at the far wall. You perceive a figure residing on the other side, smudges of deep blue set around sunken-in voids. It lifts its hand, tapping at your window again.
You yawned, blinking at the figure and staring back before getting up and turning on the light, walking out for a moment before walking back in with a towel, opening the window and letting him climb inside, placing the towel into his hands
"I'm not letting you get my floors wet. Dry off and take off your boots."
You grumbled, half asleep as you looked at him with slight annoyance.
That was... Unexpected. You seem to have no reservations whatsoever about letting this... thing... inside.
He stares at you for a moment, the rain running in rivulets off his arms and forming puddles at his feet. He reaches for the towel, dabbing his head with it, which, given his face, has very little effect in the way of drying it. He gives you a small smile, his teeth sharp and pointed.
He removes his boots at your request and sets them next to the window.
"Nice. Follow me, you must be really cold." You said, gesturing for him to follow you and leading him into the kitchen, taking out two mugs and a packet of tea.
"Sit down at the island, are you hungry? I have some homemade cookies." You asked, filling up a metal kettle with water, starting the stove, and placing it on the flame. You turned to him, waiting for a response.
He follows you and sits at the island as you requested. He pauses only to look down at the cookies you mentioned, then back up at you. You're being surprisingly generous here. The thought of being eaten has not crossed your mind. It almost makes him wonder why there was no resistance. "Yes, I am hungry. Those cookies... they smell delicious."
"Jesus, your throat sounds dry. Here, some candied ginger is in this bowl."
You slid the bowl over to him, taking some neatly wrapped cookies off a shelf in your pantry and unwrapping the plastic, placing them in front of him as well.
He is surprised by your kindness but decides to accept it. He accepts the bowl of candied ginger and takes a few chews, the moisture of the candy melting onto his tongue. He gives you a thankful nod, reaching for one of the cookies.
As he bites into one, his eyes roll back a bit as he enjoys the flavor. He doesn't know it yet, but he has a sweet tooth. That was obvious. He quickly shovels another cookie into his mouth as he eyes you cautiously.
You turned around as the kettle whistled suddenly, not being surprised by the sudden loud sound and yawning again, placing the kettle to the side burner of the stove and turning off the other one. You poured the tea into a French press, and then the hot water, and then let it sit.
"Chamomile and Jasmine. I grew most of the herbs myself, I have a garden out back." You nodded towards the drying herbs on the walls and hanging up above the island.
He watches you as you tend to the kettle, his eyes narrow as he tries to process this encounter. How are you not afraid of him? He's a man-eating demon! He's eaten a handful of people! And yet you're offering him tea and cookies as if you two were having a picnic... he takes another bite of the delicious cookie and swallows. "Garden? What do you grow?"
"Chamomile, mint, wolfsbane, rosemary, Catnip, stuff like that."
a calico cat suddenly jumped up on the island, walking over to me and rubbing its head against your arm. You rubbed behind its ears with a smile, picking it up like a baby and holding it as it purred, making kissing sounds at it.
"And this is Dahlia, my love, my little lady. She is the one kid that I don't have to pay child support for. Aren't you? Aren't you? Your momma isn't a theiving bitch, huh?" You said, rubbing her chin.
He pauses, watching you hold the cat with what appears to be a rather soft look. He cocks his head to the side slightly, considering the animal. The cat does seem quite charming now that he thinks about it... he wonders if it would make a good snack... No that's not right, you don't make friends with your food.
He clears his throat to bring himself back to reality. Ah yes! The garden that you mentioned earlier. "Wolfsbane? Why would you grow a poison?"
"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to." You said, placing the cat down gently on the floor, letting it wander off into the house.
"I wasn't always a lonely woman living in a hut in the middle of nowhere. I had a life, a job. I used to be a hitman." You said, pressing the French press down, pouring the tea into the mugs, and placing one of them in front of him, along with a small jar of honey and a spoon.
His eyebrows raise slightly, as he considers your statement. You seemed... normal enough to him. You'd said that you were a hitman. His eyes narrow once again, his curiosity getting the better of him.
He reaches forward, dipping his finger into a bit of honey, tasting it, and nodding in approval. That was surprisingly good, he wasn't expecting it to be as sweet as it was. "You were a hitman? Really? Were you very successful? Or have you stopped..."
"I also used to be a drug dealer, gang banger, whatever you call it. I retired a couple of years ago, right after my wife left me and took the kids with her." You said, putting some honey into your tea, mixing it with a spoon.
He nods along as you speak. Perhaps you two do have more in common than you'd think. You're both... troubled individuals. He raises an eyebrow as you mention your wife and children. A wife? Kids? Was this a topic he was allowed to inquire about or should he stay away?
"Your wife?" He clears his throat again. "Where is she now?"
"Connecticut, getting checks from me every month. We don't have any contact, I'm not allowed to, it's court ordered. I can't even see my girls." You said, looking sadly down at your mug.
He stares at you for a moment, unsure of how he should respond to this. He can relate to your pain, to be honest. Maybe you two aren't so different after all, except for the fact that he eats people. He reaches toward his mug, but stops short of taking a sip. He has to ask you. "How old are your daughters?"
"15. They're twins, and the last time I saw them, they were about... 5?"
You said, sipping your tea.
He looks away, averting his gaze from you. His hands clench into fists as he considers what you've just told him. Five years? And you don't know what your daughters look like now? They'd be strangers to you.
"Fifteen..." He reaches for his mug, taking a small sip of tea, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Why did she take them from you?"
"She said I was dangerous for them, and she didn't want them growing up in the environment that I would make for them. I was involved with some very dangerous people, so dangerous that she was even kidnapped once just because I carried out a hit on a gang member." You said.
He looks at you curiously and raises an eyebrow. That was indeed rather dangerous. And your wife paid the price? It's a good thing she was spared, or else who knows what would happen to her.
"It sounds like you live quite the... eventful life." He sips on his tea, then places it down and asks a question. "Why did you stop being a hitman? Did you have enough money at that point?"
"Look around. I'm living comfortably now, aren't I? I grow my own food, make my own power, hell, I even make my own clothes." You said, gesturing to your tank top and sleep shorts that looked like they were crochet.
He watches your hands gesture at your attire and nods in approval. It does indeed look handmade. Maybe you're not so bad at this whole living thing. You've made a home for yourself. That's more than he ever had. "Do you ever feel lonely here, all by yourself?"
"That's what Dahlia is for. and also sometimes, on Friday nights, I get to drink until I'm on the floor. It's always fun on Saturday, farming after almost drinking myself to death." You chuckled.
He smiles at the mention of your drinking sprees. Perhaps he could learn something from you. There was something about this woman that was soothing to him.
He leans in, leaning on his forearms on the island, giving you a knowing look. "So you're a heavy drinker? I imagine that keeps the loneliness at bay."
"Only on Fridays. In my 20's, after my divorce, I was shooting up and drinking every day, all day and night. Living in and out of reality, dragging myself around, looking for another high. Now I just drink one night a week and smoke a joint every once and a while." You said.
His eyes widen slightly. Your 20's? The drug problem? You'd experienced much more than he'd envisioned. You're more troubled than he thought. It's... fascinating. He can't help but feel a sense of admiration for you. Your ability to survive through all of this is remarkable. But... there are better ways to handle emotional stress.
He taps the side of his teacup with his finger. "Why Friday nights?"
"Day of penance. In the Jewish faith, it's kind of like a Sunday. I'm not Jewish, but I took a page from their book, living without electricity. The only rule I break on that day is drinking." You said.
His eyes widen. Your drinking sprees have a religious meaning, a reason. You were atoning for something. He considers your statement about electricity, as well.
"No electricity? You don't use that at all, even on days that aren't penance days? Do you ever get bored without it?" He says.
"No, I just don't use electricity on Fridays. Every other day, I do. The day is the same, the night is what changes. During the day, I farm and garden, and during the night, I read and have only a single glass of wine that isn't on a Friday. On Fridays I drink two, sometimes 3 bottles of whatever liquor I can find." You said.
He considers this, taking another sip from his cup. Three bottles? That was quite a bit of alcohol to be drinking, although he was not qualified to judge you. He leans forward, his hands placed once again on his elbows as he leans on the island, looking over at you.
"Do you have a specific reason that you started your heavy drinking binges on Fridays? Does it bring back certain feelings or memories that you're trying to avoid?" He asked.
"It's my day to cry and lash out. I break a lot of things when I'm drunk, that's why this mug has a crack in it, and why that window over there has been replaced about 9 times."
You pointed to your mug and the small cracks in it, and then to the bay window in the dining room area.
He follows the direction of your pointing finger, looking to the mug and then to the small cracks in the bay window. It seems like you often engage in destructive behavior when you're drunk. He seems to understand this; drinking is your way to release your stress.
"You release your emotions through your outbursts. Does it make you feel better afterwards?" He asked.
"Yeah, and it's much better than drowning my sorrows in drugs and sex like I used to do." You said simply, not wanting to get into those memories, but he would pry anyways. It seems to be a running theme with this conversation. He tries to get to know you even further, asking more and more prying questions despite the obvious situation between them.
He pauses for a moment. Your description of your past is... rather grim. You sound like you've been through quite a bit in your lifetime. You've engaged in sex and drugs, and now you're drinking heavily to release stress. It's all a coping mechanism. Eyeless Jack wonders... does this woman even get joy from life? Was she ever truly happy? Or has her life always been a series of unfortunate events?
"Hey strange man, I've told you my whole life and I haven't even gotten your name. What is it?"
You asked, nodding towards him in acknowledgment.
He pauses, seeming to consider this for a moment. You're right, he hasn't shared his name with you. It's always you who asks all of the questions and him who answers.
"Eyeless Jack."
That was all he'd tell you. You don't even know much about him, and he has no intention to divulge information about himself. He was the one who was curious and wanting to learn more about this woman... not the other way around.