The Lovely Twist In Our Veins (An Eyeless Jack P.O.V & Romance)

1 - The Lovely Twist In Our Veins

Hey hey hey, and welcome to The Lovely Twist In Our Veins.

This is an Eyeless Jack p.o.v and romance, but it is also an EJ x NTK fanfic. (Omg, if you hate Nina the killer just chill!!! I love her!)

Nadia, is a character I based off of Nina since Nina's story is just ridiculously awful. Seriously, it's incredibly cliche and just... Ugh.

So, hope you enjoy this rendition.

Also, 'Get Off Easy' by Breathe Carolina.

-Stay Punky, lovelies.

***
My skin; the gray, decaying shell that I've been cursed to call home is infested with self-hatred, and has been the very second I came to the devastating conclusion that I was going to leave her.

Abandonment and neglect was what I had to offer her in the final moments of our history together and I, like the very monster I was, detatched myself so suddenly that I had ripped her flesh without compassion enough to leave a packet of stitches. Healing was a form of safety and security, a priveledge that she could never find after what I had done and I was to suffer the same emotional scar, as blatant and disfiguring as my appearance. I could feel the smoldering pain that stung against my bones because of our seperation, and I could feel hers too.

It was agonizing. The deadly bond between us still lingered, a prickly attatchment that hooked into the flesh in my gut and threaded miles upon miles to her, stretching as far as I would continue to go. The thread continued to strain itself, never recoiling, an invisible line that wrapped around light posts and got caught against the hoods of cars I'd pass by, touching the sky as birds unknowingly hooked a wing to it or an ankle brushed against it. The thread, like an eternal ball of yarn lay miles and miles around the world by now, dusting over or daring to fall apart in the ocean, its material spun from not only the darkest of evils, but woven in the deepest of admiration.

How long could the thread hold out for until a passerby unknowingly broke it, or until I traveled too far and it eventually snapped? I had not a clue. Perhaps the hook in my gut would rip from my flesh and leave a gapping wound, but no longer tug. Or maybe she would somehow detatch herself in the ultimate testimate of hatred and finally rid herself of me. Either way, the thread continued to stretch although the more it did, the tighter it became, and as the days went on, as did the agonizing pain of being away from her.

The string was not the only connection driving me mad; her innermost thoughts were as well. I could still hear her mind, her agony of being abandoned. Her immediate thoughts were not clear from this distance, but her emotions were and it was as though the demons I had infected her with craved my own in a desperate, needy way. They were in the throws of death, although they could not die. They were suffering, without redemption from the pain. They were begging, but I could not aid them. I knew she was in pain; I could hear her pain like boulders to my brain and it sickened me as I'd lay awake, the cries of her suffering too much for me to bear. Her heart was aching for me, as was mine for hers, yet, her desperation was uncontrollable. Guilt consumed me, and I wore it like the top layer of my skin. I had betrayed her like the world had been since she was born. I had become the darkest being in her life. I had let her down.