Dying Stars.

(PT.5;WHAT'S IN THE BOX?)

(Authors Note: TW for: profanity, gore/blood, sensitive subjects, bodily injuries, etc.)

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While Lilith and Zed had left to talk outside, your eyes stayed locked onto the box that laid in your lap; the weight digging into your legs.

It reminded you of one of the many surprises Jack liked to give you whenever he was feeling "generous".

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The room was covered wall to wall in white, bloodstained padding; except for the ceiling which was Hyperion Yellow.

Why did it always look like this? Whenever you remembered it, it was always dull and yellow, and you constantly felt sticky; like sweat and dirt kept wafting through the air.

And he was always so happy, so excited to talk to you. But you knew he never meant it, fawning adoration or glee at getting to give you another generous gift.

Whatever horror it was, it couldn't be worse than the last. At least, that's what you always thought, and yet you were proven wrong time and time again. Every single fucking time he had found more and more ways to terrorize and petrify you.

The first one was of a poorly drawn image of you and someone else you didn't recognize getting shot in the head with the words "GET FUCKED BANDITS" scribbled over the top in red crayon. Next it was just a literal piece of shit planted in your shoes; that one was from Buttstallion, Jack's loyal steed.

But this time it was a box.

Not a very big box, just an average sized box that probably held average sized things such as cake or presents. But it wouldn't be that, no you weren't stupid enough to think that, and yet you still hoped desperately, foolishly that somehow, someway it wouldn't be as bad as the others.

Oh how you were so wrong.

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"Go on." Jack's voice spoke through the intercom that was attached to the ceiling of your room, "Open it up."

You always hesitated, always afraid of what he'd thought up this time.

"Oh come on, I just know you'll love it."

His voice was always condescending for some reason, you began to think it had something to do with his vocal cords; like some sort of talent he'd gained as a young child.

Finally giving in, you placed two fingers under the lid and flipped it open, revealing a desecrated pile of blood, guts and feathers.

"Surprise! Happy Birthday you lousy little freak,"

A scream escaped you, causing you to back up into the wall, digging your heels into the ground as if it would start walking towards you.

There were two eyes misplaced on something you believed used to be a head of some sort, with brain fragments splayed all out of order. It was like some sort of animal's skull had been turned inside out and presented on a plate, with the little feathers being placed on top of the monstrosity.

"See? I knew you'd like it! It took forever to find all of the missing pieces, or most of 'em, but hey! Look on the bright side, at least Bloodwing got to say hello."

Tears began flowing down your face, the image burning into your skull as you did nothing but stare at it.

"And look, your crying tears of joy! I knew you'd guys have a happy reunion! Such a shame Mordecai isn't here, huh?"

His words went in one ear and out the other as the box just laid open and your heart kept beating against your chest.

Jack eventually became bored, saying, "Well don't say I didn't give you anything," before shutting off the intercom.

Leaving you alone with the pile of bloodied brain matter.

And of course the box.

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You felt a wave of anxiety and fear wash over you, like you were back in that dingy white and yellow room about to revive a gift you never asked for.

Heart racing and chest tightening; your wide eyes locked onto the box as if it might move when you looked away. Your hands gripping the edges of the bed tightly, shaking as your knuckles started to turn white.

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