Glass Eye (Eyeless Jack X Reader)

Chapter Thirty-One

**This chapter contains brief descriptions of IV needle placements. Read at your own discretion**

To my dismay, the rest of the trek back to his cabin was a silent one. So many questions circulated in my head and in my heart.

How would I word my concerns about the nightmares? How would I even explain them? And how would I ever confess my true feelings to him if I didn't even know what those feelings were? There was so much going on that I felt as though I should understand, but just.. couldn't.

There was a part of me that wanted to completely turn my back to him. He twirled my life around in his palm like a globe, deciding which side he wanted to be on depending on his mood. He was mysterious, he had questionable motives, and he was dangerous. 

Yet, some nagging part of me didn't want to believe that that was all that composed Jack. Maybe it was my innate need to find some sort of decency in even the most inhumane beings. Or perhaps it was the lack of nutrition finally settling in, depriving my brain of the proper glucose to function.

I didn't have time to decide on whether it was the latter of the former as my legs buckled beneath me.

Blackness tickled the corners of my vision as I felt a gnawing pain in the very center of my being, as if something was eating me from the inside out.

Myself. I was eating myself. I couldn't recall when the last time I ate had been, and that was more than concerning.

"(Name)?"

Jack's voice seemed to echo in my eardrums, battering at them yet soothing them at the same time. I doubled over, falling onto my hands as I dry heaved.

I hadn't even been able to step more than a single foot into the door of his cabin without something else happening. It was getting embarrassing.

If I hadn't run off with Tim on some sort of righteous impulse to show Jack that I could rebel, maybe the situation wouldn't have escalated this far. Maybe if I had just communicated more willingly with him in the beginning, it wouldn't have turned out like this at all.

It was irrational. All of it. To develop some sort of feelings for the creature that infiltrated my dreams and encapsulated my subconscious was irrational. Mourning my dead fiancé by clinging to said creature because he acted just as cold as Henry had was irrational. 

Did I have Stockholm Syndrome? Did I have some sort of vendetta against being alive? Did I have some sort of fucking brain damage? Maybe I needed a cat-scan.

"I should have given you some food by now, this is my fault, (Name)."

He said his statement firmly, blaming himself for my condition. While I agreed that he should have taken some initiative to actually feed his human prisoner, I also blamed myself. If I didn't leave the cabin with Tim in the first place, I could have conserved energy instead of exerting all of it running aimlessly through the woods.

"I'm just really, really dizzy,"

My voice was shaking as I spoke, fighting the urge to dry-heave yet again. Though I'd never fully understand it, I think I could see Jack's logic behind hating humans. How high maintenance we must have been compared to him. I hadn't even seen him eat or drink not once. 

I looked up at him through watering eyes from the stinging of dry-heaving, my cheeks red with embarrassment.

In my hazy state of mind, either from the lack of food, the constant unconsciousness I found myself in, or some other third thing, I flung myself at him.