Glass Eye (Eyeless Jack X Reader)

Chapter Twenty

When I thought of how I'd die, I'd honestly thought it would be at the hand of Henry. Maybe he would have one too many to drink, as he always did, and finally push that limit. Finally, in his drunken stupor, he would end my life and go about his as if he never lost anything. Yet, here I stood, going about my own life as if I had never lost anything. 

We were meant to be married, in sickness and health, till' death did us part. But we were parted long before death, long before Henry was murdered, long before we were even together.

Looking into the night sky for answers, praying into the cold shoulder of God, I asked for a sign it was supposed to be this way. A sign it would get easier. And when my answer came, my nightmares followed. As I was haunted in my dreams by the answer I had prayed so hard for, so dutifully for, I wept. I received exactly what I was asking for; an answer. Henry's death was an answer I was looking for, but hadn't been expecting. I yearned to be free of him, but to be free of someone and to be rid of them were two completely different things. Nobody understood it better than me, and even I had a meek understanding at best. Decisions of fate were best left to fate's understanding; not knowing what it meant didn't translate to it being meaningless.

As I stood in the small room I was a hostage in, I felt more related to that fact than ever; no matter how much of Jack I didn't understand, it didn't change the fact that he just was. He lived through his torment, he died at the hands of the cruel, yet he breathed ever yet. I wondered why I couldn't be more like Jack as my breath froze in my chest, the voice of Jeff ringing out yet again. Calling my name, stomps getting closer and closer to the heavy metal door.

As death approached me, calling out disregarded sweet nothings, I sank back into the queen size bed. There was nothing I could do, and even if there was, my brain refused to sort through the slim possibilities. The odds against me were much too great, and if I was honest, death would be a sweet escape from guilt. 

"(Name),"

The metal door swung open after a soft click sounded from the other side. For a brief moment, it felt as if my senses were honed in as Jack's always were; I could hear soft breathing coming from just beyond the gate to hell before it finally gave way and revealed my fate to me.

I didn't bring my eyes up to his, or even check to see who this 'friend' was. I didn't have the strength in me to care. 

"I've come to save you, as you've asked of me,"

What?

Of all the dialogue I remembered happening between Jeff and I, me asking him to save me definitely wasn't part of it.

I didn't speak for a moment, the pace in my chest quickening under his lid-less stare. From my very short time taking psychology classes in high-school for extra credit, I remembered the professor talking about psychosis.

"You should never try to convince a patient suffering with psychosis that any auditory or hallucinatory events are not really happening. To them, it is really occurring, and trying to down-play their very real reactions may lead to a violent outburst. Don't play along as to feed into it, but validate their concerns and re-direct the conversation. Try to calmly talk them down from any nonsensical things they may describe. Though, it's unlikely to just stumble across somebody experiencing a real psychosis in your everyday life, you never know. You could save a life knowing this, maybe even your own,"

Definitely helpful information to remember, especially as Jeff's expression grew angrier at my lack of a response by the second. Though the teacher hadn't ever described how to talk down a psychotic serial killer with a smile carved into his face, I could try and use some context clues to save my ass. Hopefully.