Eyeless Jack ran for the door before I could even register what was happening.
My heart dropped to my stomach at the thought of whatever it was that made him so on edge, and with the understanding that maybe I didn't want to know, I did what Eyeless Jack ordered.
I threw myself backwards on the mattress, my eyes clamped shut while I tried to remain as motionless as possible. My curiosity was burning for me to look out the window and see just what was out there. It kept scratching through my thoughts, clawing its way to the surface.
But the dread ensured that I didn't listen.
I heard his footsteps fade away, running through the broken down building, only to be picked back up faintly from somewhere outside. Then, I heard a hellish sound. It was inhuman, deep and guttural as it cried out like a wounded animal. I had to bite down on my tongue to keep a whimper from escaping through my lips. Every muscle in my body was trembling as a response to the creature's cries of pain.
What the hell made that?
My breathing became harsh and I hopelessly wished that I had my inhaler right now. The dust and dirt coating this room like a fog, along with the fear of the situation, was more than enough to jump-start an asthma attack. I frantically clasped my hands -or well, my free hand- over my mouth to silence myself as best I could.
Fear tightened around my lungs like a vice grip and I found it incredibly hard to breathe in.
My biggest concern wasn't the asthma attack, but the wheezing that might come of it. What if the creature hears me? What if it finds where I'm bound? I'm tied to the bed so I can't run or fight for myself. And what about Eyeless Jack? He seemed freaked out when he saw this thing. Does that mean even he's afraid of it? If that's the case, where does that leave me?
The sound of flesh tearing broke me from my thoughts. I jolt up, fearing the worst, only to freeze when my masked captors last message bloomed into my vision:
'Don't look outside, NO MATTER WHAT. Lay down, don't move, and keep your eyes shut.'
I force my body back against the stiff mattress, my stomach twisted into all sorts of knots of dread. I squeezed my eyes tighter, praying they'd be cemented shut if I pressed hard enough.
I held my free hand against my heart, nearly to the point where my own bones were digging into my chest cavity, to silence the unruly pounding. My heartbeat filled my ears to the point that I could barely even hear myself think. I silently begged my body to quiet this rhythmic drumming in my ears, though my body denied the request. Even with the deafening drum-beats of my heart, I still hear my masked captor from behind the window. His shoes scraping against concrete followed by heavy claws breaking wood apart did nothing to calm me.
I think he's fighting the creature that emanates those heart-wrenching cries?
That doesn't make me feel good at all! What if he loses? What will become of me then? Will the creature find me next? I don't want to die here! I'm not good with pain!
While I continued struggling to breathe, I caught myself in my panic and reminded myself to calm down. I take bigger, slower breaths rather than small, quick ones. My chest loosens a bit, but it's not much. At this point I can't stop the asthma attack from happening. Instead, all I can do is keep it from getting worse.
The sounds from outside aren't helping, either. The screams sound so much louder now. They're definitely fighting, and they're definitely closer, but I can't tell which one is winning.
A tree breaks into splinters, the sound of cracking wood filling the air a second time. My body jolts on instinct because of it.
What is happening out there?! Is this a fight to the death or something? If Eyeless Jack dies, the only person who knows about me will be gone. And if the creature doesn't find me, I'll be left tied to the bed where I'll either starve to death or succumb to dehydration.
Ugh, I think I'd rather have that thing kill me. A slow death doesn't sound very appealing at all. No death would be preferrable, but if I have to choose I'd rather die fast and painless.
A very heavy thud, like a sack of bricks dropping to the floor, pulled me out of my mind and brought silence to the world. My mind races, which one? Eyeless Jack or the creature?
It's silence outside grows deafeningly heavy. There isn't even the sound of trees shifting in the wind anymore.
Please. Please tell me that Eyeless Jack won, not the other thing! Please tell me I'm not alone in here!
As I'm reeling with the new silence, something catches my attention. I can hear something crawling through my window.
Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him. Please be Him.
The sound sends me into a fit of sheer panic. My breathing is not mine to control anymore. It gets to the point where I'm not actually inhaling anything at all. I thrash against the mattress, trying to jump start my lungs to work. My body panics as it struggles for air. I grasp at my chest and mouth, desperately begging them to start working again. While my lungs burn with fear, tears stream down my cheeks.
I can't breathe!
I sob, unable to actually voice my distress.
A hand clasps itself over my mouth and my eyes fly open.
Please be Him!!
Instead of seeing a grotesque face or a hungry animal, I see blue. Deep, saturated blue. For the first time, I feel comforted by this color, by this mask.
Oh thank god it is him! Relief washes over me.
Eyeless Jack's jacket is ripped a little, but other than that he seems fine. I, however, am not. My chest is in agony and I'm struggling to take in any air at all. I lift my eyes to Eyeless Jack and try to tell him I'm having an asthma attack, but it's no use. I can't even breathe, let alone speak. My hands fly up to my throat, clawing at my lungs through my shirt, to try and signal to him what's happening.
He grabs me by the shoulders and helps me sit up. He's so gentle about it as he helps adjust me into a better position, the difference being nearly instantaneous. My chest already feels looser.
As I remember the countless tips Doctors gave me throughout the years, I begin taking longer, deeper breaths in a hurried attempt to regain a regular breathing pattern. The filthy, stuffy air isn't doing much to help me. But there's not much I can do about that right now. The best I can do is focus on breathing.
As I turn my attention to my breathing, I don't notice Eyeless Jack walking around to the spot behind me. My body reflexively flinches as he runs his hands up my shirt and glides underneath it, clasping the skin of my back.
His hands were freezing despite being constantly covered with gloves. It was like having two huge ice cubes held against my skin! I yelp at the temperature change while a sharp chill continuously runs up my spine. Like a stream of electricity from a car battery. I can't decide if I'm embarrassed to have his hands up my shirt or shocked by the cold.
Oddly enough, despite my environment, I'm reminded of a Doctor's office and the numerous check-ups I've had to endure throughout the years. It's less like he's feeling up my back and more like he's...checking me for something. This gives me a strange sense of familiarity...And somehow it actually calms me down a little.
Now that the initial shock is over, I realize that his hands are strategically planted over my lungs. What's he doing? Is he checking them somehow? Doesn't he need a stethoscope to actually find anything out back there? I shake my head, deciding now is not the time to sit and question his motives. I've still gotta focus on breathing.
That shock made me backtrack a little bit and my breathing got worse, so now I've got to do damage control.
I will admit, after the initial shock, having him just hold his hands there is actually helping me breathe easier. The cold is very soothing, to be honest. And who knows, maybe having some kind of support back there is actually doing some good. Idk, I'll just leave him be.
After a minute or two, Eyeless Jack removes his hands, walks around the bed, and out the door. No note, no sound, nothing.
Oo-kay? That could be really good, or it could be really bad. Either he's straight up ditching me, or he's going to get something and will be right back. I certainly hope he'll be right back.
All I can do is wait and find out, I suppose. In the meantime, I return to my breathing. I close my eyes and let the whole world fade away.
I think it takes about a minute before the door creaking pulls me out of my focus. My eyes open and Eyeless Jack is standing in view, coffee mug in hand.
Ok good, he did come back.
He walks up and hands me the steaming cup. This is the first time I've had something other than water and mush since I've been here. I grab the cup and just hold it for a second, letting the heat seep into my hand.
It was very relaxing, and the steam coming off the mug made breathing less of a burden. When I lifted the mug and took a sip, the warmth flowing down my throat immediately helped. It was such a relief, in fact, that tears welled up in my eyes.
I felt a light tapping on my shoulder so I turned my head slowly. Eyeless Jack is sitting on the chair, holding up the notebook, a message written in bold letters across the page.
'I'm sorry for leaving. I didn't think you'd have an asthma attack so suddenly. You're going to be fine now. I won't leave again.'
"What...were you fighting?" I asked, my voice soft and weak, more of a whimper than an actual sentence. I guess I still wasn't doing that great.
He shook his head, as if to dismiss the question.
'It was just a dispute for territory, nothing big. It won't hurt you while I'm around.'
I got the distinct feeling that he wasn't telling me everything. Although, him saying he wouldn't leave me gave some kind of reassurance, having him here is better than being alone the whole time. At the very least, it really does seem like he doesn't want to hurt me. I suppose I really mean what I said earlier. My only option at this point is to trust him.
Still though; what the fuck. Just with everything. What the fuck.
I lower my head, dipping down to take a few more gulps of the drink, still keeping as steady a breathing rhythm as I could. I really don't like being without my inhaler like this. It always makes me uneasy. I'm sure that uneasy feeling is going to be present now more than ever, especially if there's strange creatures in the woods.
This place is getting worse and worse by the second. The longer I'm here, the worse I feel.
Again, the thought of planning an escape flashes into my mind. I quickly push it away. I'm not going anywhere if there's monsters out there. Whatever that thing was, it didn't sound like any animal I know.
Not to mention the back-to-back asthma attacks I keep having. If I were to do anything physically strenuous, like running or climbing without that relief system, I'd most likely not survive the task.
Frankly, I don't think I'm brave enough to risk it.
I turn to Eyeless Jack, his mask showing no change in emotion as always. He just sits there, waiting for me to say something that he might have to reply to.
"How long am I going to be here for?" I stare into the pitch blackness of his eyes.
I'm done pretending everything's better than it is. I'm done saying it'll be fine, or that I can deal with it. I'm the victim of a kidnapping. I'm being kept in some decrepit building on an awful mattress that's covered in dirt, the metal springs dig into my back and shoulders. I haven't taken a shower in days. I'm still covered in mud from when I was attacked. All I have to eat is the same gross mush, and I only occasionally get water. The only time I'm allowed to walk around is when I have to use the bathroom. This isn't fun. This isn't nice.
I'd rather know exactly what he wants from me and just get it over with.
There's also the matter of Eyeless Jack himself.
Who the hell is he? I don't know him. I don't like him! The only reason I even asked him to stay around is because he was actually giving me answers. He doesn't mistreat me, per sé. But that still doesn't mean I'm happy with anything that's happening right now.
If he tells me he plans to keep me here forever, I just might ask him to kill me instead, as morbid as that sounds. I'd rather be dead than live as a pet for the rest of my life.
Now he's gone stiff, staring at me with those empty eyes. It took him a very long time to write out an answer.
'I'm not sure.'
That line was the opposite of what I wanted to hear. I already knew what those three words actually meant.
I wasn't leaving.
"You don't plan on letting me go, do you?" I lifted my head, eyes full of misery.
He didn't write anything. Just sat there. Looking at me.
"You don't plan on letting me go, but you don't want to say that to me. So, instead, you're giving me false hope. Pointless false hope, aren't you?" This time I didn't look at him. My eyes were pointed at the cup in my hand, my fingers tensing around the ceramic handle.
Still no response.
"If you want to kill me then do it already!" I barked out abruptly, tears rolling down my cheeks now. But when I saw how emotionless that mask he wore really was, the fire in my stomach quickly fizzled out. My head dropped to the side, the next words fumbled out my mouth softly.
"That or let me go, but pick one. Please...Or I'll have to make that choice for you." I begged, pleaded with the crying mask, not even knowing the person who wore it.
This time there was sound. The felt tip of the marker set my stomach with dread. I didn't look up when he was done writing, I was still hesitant about the answer I'd see. The leather of the seat shifted as he stood up. I heard his footsteps tap against the concrete floor as he walked over to me. A hand came into my vision, holding the notebook so that the pages were facing the floor. He set the notepad on my lap, then turned away. He left the room. The door scraped against the concrete surface beneath it, followed by it closing behind him.
And now I'm alone.
After a few minutes of just staring at the cup in my hand, feeling it grow cold in my palm. I finally got the courage to lift my head. The room around me was vacant. The trees blew in the wind again. It felt like everything had gone back to the way it was before. It was quite serene now.
Which made me nauseous.
I shifted my eyes to the chair, empty now safe for the imprint of where he just was. I glance down to my lap, the cardboard back of the notebook staring back at me. I slowly turned it over. The words in big bold letters, scrawling across the entire page, sent a wave of tears down my face. I bowed my head and sobbed into my only free hand.
I was fine with one of two answers. But what I got instead made me more upset than anything. I would've been happier to read that he was going to kill me.
Instead, all I got was;
'I'm sorry.'