I sat awake. Staring at the blurry ceiling, then the wall, then the ceiling again. I sat up a few times, then laid back down. I would've tried tossing and turning, but the way my arm was tied to the bed didn't really make that easy.
The room faded into darkness, then filled with gentle light while the sun rose. Another sleepless night. That's one thing that hasn't changed since I was brought here. Sleep never goes my way. I didn't even have my cellphone to make the time go by faster.
I didn't have anything, actually, now that I think about it.
Slowly, not long after dawn broke, my eyesight returned to normal. I could see everything clearly now, finally. Oh, thank god the blindness wasn't permanent.
I took this opportunity to actually take in my surroundings. I looked down, seeing that I was on top of an old, ragged mattress.
Called it.
I also saw that I was in a room, void of any decorations on the wall. There was my bed, a small table and a recliner right next to it. And an IV on the other side that just so happened to be hooked into my numb arm. There was a liquid dripping out of it, but it clearly wasn't Saline or anything like that. So that's why my arm was numb, because of whatever was in that IV.
Awesome. Great. Love that. Chemically induced paralysis; my favorite.
I threw my head back, hitting the metal bar with a soft ring. I didn't care enough to react to the new dull stinging on the back of my skull. I quietly contemplated whether or not the solution had an effect on my legs as well, or if they were just numb from my running/fighting the day before. I blink the thought away and continue to examine my new environment with lackluster enthusiasm.
There was a window on one of the walls. It was open, a gentle breeze blew through, stirring up the stagnant air. Even from my place on the bed I could see a forest of trees. That explains the smell of pine I picked up on earlier. It definitely isn't the same forest as the camp though, that much is obvious.
I stared longingly out the window. Immediately feeling like a bird trapped in a cage, only able to see the beautiful sky and trees from my place behind gilded bars. My chest felt heavy as sorrow creeped into my heart.
I want to go home.
I heard the door creak open and I shifted my head to look at the entrance. The masked man stood in the doorway, idly watching me, another bowl of mush cradled in his hands. His emotions and thoughts are hidden by that sorrowful mask. I turned my head back to the window with a soft sigh to continue staring at the falling leaves, barely even giving him a response now.
Silence filled the room. The only sounds that broke it were the man's footsteps and the branches swaying in the wind. I heard him take a seat in the recliner, the leather straining with his weight. There was also a small clunk when he sat the bowl on the table.
There was another sound that confused me. The sound of a thick paperback flitting through its pages. Did he really bring a book in here?
My eyes drifted to the side, only to see the man holding a notebook. Y'know, the kind with the yellow pages.
?? Why? Of all things, why that??
'Can you see? The solution should've worn off by now.' The hooded man lifted the book to show the words scrawled out in big letters over a single page.
I give pause. I'm in such a state of shock that I can't even understand what the paper reads despite it being held like two inches from my face.
What. The Fuck. Is. Happening?????
So, he can't talk? Is this his only way of communicating? That or he chooses to not let me hear his voice, which is strange in itself. If he didn't want me to know what he sounded like he could use a voice changer or something, right? Why? WHY IS THIS WHAT HE CHOOSES TO DO? Why is a notebook his final decision?!
I turn my head to the sigh and take in a deep unsteady breath, trying to calm the sudden boiling blood underneath my skin. I don't know why his choices piss me off so much, but damn am I mad now.
"...Why did you blind me?" I asked, dully, forcing down my frustration.
The man turns the book back around, flips the paper over, and writes something new on the fresh page.
'I don't like being watched.'
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
I'm going to hit something! I was joking about the self image thing. I didn't actually think that was the case!! Oh, I fucking hate this.
A light tap on my shoulder makes me flinch. I turned to see him leaning close, that mask still covering his face. He was holding up the notebook again. I lowered my eyes to the yellow tinted paper.
'Eyeless Jack' The words he wrote were usually neat and flowing, but this time they were erratic, as if he were angry at the words themselves.
He flipped the page without writing on a new one, a message already pre-written out. Did he plan this?
'I don't want anything from you.'
Flip. New page, already written note.
'You're in an abandoned building. Nobody's been here in years.'
Flip. Again. Note already written out.
'You're here because you saw me.'
I threw a hand up to stop him before he could turn to the next page. "Wait. What do you mean?" I breathed out, my voice somewhat caught in my throat. Did he really know I was there? When I stumbled upon him, standing over that poor woman?
This time he actually did scribble something down. I guess I asked a question that didn't fit with his pre-written answers.
'In the woods. You saw me after I killed that woman. I couldn't let a witness escape.'
"You knew I was there? The whole time??" My mind rushing back to the sight of him standing above her body, the image burned into the back of my head. This whole time. This whole time I thought he didn't know, or at least he saw me leaving. But he knew, the entire time, that I had watched him?
He nodded.
"How?" I asked, leaning forward, my attention fully captured. Worry tightening its grip on my chest.
For a moment there, I guess I had forgotten how dangerous he really is. I don't know why, but something about him puts me at ease. And right now, I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad one.
'I didn't notice you at first. But then I heard you duck behind the tree. I couldn't move until after you were already walking away.'
"Then why didn't you hide or something? If you knew I was there why not try to get away before I told someone?"
'I can't let anyone know I was there. My being there itself has to be kept secret. People are after me, and a witness would've been more than enough for them to catch on.'
"Why not just kill me as soon as you saw me, then?! Why kidnap me and bring me all the way out to...To wherever this is?" I replied harshly, clearly in distress.
I stopped with a heavy gasp, and I would've slapped a hand over my mouth if it weren't tied down. I forced my mouth shut, realizing I had just asked a question I don't actually want the answer to.
There was a long pause where he didn't say or do anything. Just sorta sat there, the notebook held limply in his hand. Then out of nowhere he stood up, gathered the bowl and began walking to the door.
"Wait! Why did you tell me all of this?!" I call out, feeling a bit desperate for him to stay and give me more information.
He paused mid-step. Turned towards me ever so slightly as he seemed to be thinking. He shifted his hold on the bowl so he could grab the notebook. He flipped it to a page, tossed it at me, and left without anything else. No words, no reaction, nothing. And just like that I was alone again. Just me and the damn notebook. I lowered my gaze to the pre-written message before me.
'Earlier, you asked a few questions. I wanted to answer them.'
I thought back to when I first woke up. I remember now, I did ask a bunch of questions, in my panic. My gaze falls back to the page.
"That's...strangely endearing...??" I mumble to myself as I flip the pages over, turning to the beginning. It looks like this notebook was a new one, his replies to me are the only thing written in it.
I paused when I landed on a certain page, hidden at the very back of the book.
'I didn't want to hurt you, too.'
The letters stared back at me. This one was written neater than the others. Like there was special care taken to write it correctly. What does that even mean?
A pang in my chest sent tears to my eyes. Why am I so sad all of a sudden? What is happening? Why does this guy make me act so differently? What is it about him? Why does he draw me in so easily?
I think back to his earlier replies, flitting through the pages to study them all again. My hand stops on another page, one much sooner than the hidden message.
'Eyeless Jack'
Is that really his name? Eyeless Jack? What's that even mean, is he blind or something? -No, he clearly knows what's happening-. He reacts to me too well to be blind.
Is it because his mask has dark circles instead of eyes??
Does he steal people's eyes when he kills them? My heart sank into my chest with that last question. I swiftly shook it from my mind.
"Let's not think about dying right now, maybe." I mumble to myself.
A name is all I have to go off of right now, so it'll have to do. I repeated it in my head time and time again, burning it into my memory. Eyeless Jack. Eyeless Jack. The one who brought me here is called Eyeless Jack.
I let my eyes drift off to the side, being drawn to the window once more. The glass was cracked, one corner was shattered, and a few stray pieces refracted light from the floor. For a moment, I thought about trying to grab a piece of the glass to cut my restraint, but logic took over a second later and told me it wasn't possible. Not with my numb appendages, not with the glass being so far away, not while I was still hooked up to this IV.
I let out a heavy sign, something I seem to be doing a lot of lately. I roll my head back and slump down onto the incredibly uncomfortable mattress.
Where do I even go from here? How will I escape? Should I even try to? I still have no idea where I am, what if he took me miles away from my hometown? What if I'm somewhere really deep in the Mountains, somewhere so far away that search parties couldn't possibly find me?
I can't reasonably walk very far without having some indication of where I'm supposed to go. Don't even get me started on the food I'd need to find in order to survive. I don't know anything about how to stay alive in the wilderness! And what about shelter? What if this place is surrounded by things that cause my Asthma to go haywire? How will I even make it out intact without my inhaler?
I don't wanna admit it but I need more information before I can try and do anything. Much to my dismay, I'd have to stay and try to wrangle as much information out of him as I can.
I just hope he cooperates long enough for me to get some real answers.