Sapling In A Forgotten Forest (Eyeless Jack x Reader)

Chapter 4: Where We Meet Once More

Saturday. What a day, honestly. You had some essays to grade, yes, but now wasn't the time for that. You just wanted to relax for the first time in a while. No feeling of eyes (or perhaps the lack thereof) on your back, no carved smile murderers, and no twitchy weirdos outside your back sliding door.

Wait a minute.

You look over, and standing there is a boy. Brown hair, brown eyes, orange goggles in his hair, pale skin, and his lower face (everything below his nose, which is red at the tip) is covered. You didn't particularly care for what he was wearing, he looked like one of the sophomores or juniors that walk around the halls during their free periods. But, every so often, his head would jerk to the side. One particular movement caused his head to hit his shoulder. It looked like his right eye would squint every time his head jerked.

You were not about to call out to him, so you just slowly turned your head back to watch whatever you had put on the TV and ignored him. Aaaaaaaand now your back sliding door is broken. Who would have thought he was carrying hatchets around with him??

"Are you that guy Jack keeps talking about??" ....did he just talk?? Alright, guess the twitchy boy doesn't like you, seeing as his tone was a lil hostile.

"Who's Jack??" you question. You didn't know a Jack. Maybe a student, but this guy didn't look like he went to the school you taught at. He also kinda looked like he didn't go to school at all, considering how scrawny and roughed up he looks. He looks like he lives in the woods. And the only forest you knew of that was.... well, you get the idea.

Wait. Hatchets, twitching, hostility. Shit, this guy was one of the people from the forest. You've heard about him from a couple of people.

"Uh, the guy who ate you??" he replies with some confusion. He's acting like you knew the guy who ate you on a personal level. Like, dude, who talks to their murderer like that??

"....you act like I know anything about him." you respond, a hand coming to hold your stomach in a sort of protective way.

"I thought you did?? He's upstairs, so I mean-"

You don't let him finish, freaking out. "What?!"

The twitchy boy just shrugs and moves over to your kitchen, which the back sliding door is in. You can hear him rummaging through the cupboards and the pantry. He even opens the fridge and freezer. While he raids your kitchen, you are internally panicking. He said the person who ate you is upstairs. Right now?? Possibly. Are you going to go check?? No. Why would you?? It sounds like a horribly stupid idea, something you don't like doing. You are snapped out of your thoughts when a Snickers is thrown at you. The boy is standing in your kitchen, ice cream and a bowl out, and is staring at you.

"I'm gonna eat some of your ice cream, you actually have some of the good kind." His tone is a little flat, like he doesn't really want to tell you what he wants to do, he just wants to do it. You nod, then open the Snickers to eat it. Your hands shake, you don't want to go upstairs. It was supposed to be just a normal Saturday, why are there multiple murderers in your home??

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Eventually, you manage to pull a name from the boy. Toby. That's all he tells you, all he's able to tell you. He doesn't remember anything else. Maybe an age, and perhaps a birthday if he thinks hard enough. The first letter of a state borders the edge of his memory. Faces, people, and places long forgotten. It isn't that he doesn't want to remember. It's that he can't.

You don't remember how you managed to get him to start venting to you about it. Maybe people just don't like listening to him talk, so he just trauma dumps to anyone that'll listen.

His bowl is now empty. He also left the ice cream out, so now it's melted. Your Snickers is gone and eaten, the wrapper still in your lap as you listen to Toby. Before he had started eating, when he pulled down the.... mask?? Whatever. When he revealed his lower face, you had quite the shock when you saw his left cheek wasn't there. At least he tilted his head to the right when he ate, so no ice cream got onto the floor. Cleaning anything out of carpet is such a hassle.

The ceiling creaks, and faint footsteps can be heard from upstairs.

Right.

You forgot about the guy upstairs. And, apparently, his name was Jack.

You have the thought that these murderers have surprisingly normal names. Like, You could go through your roster and possibly pick out at least three Jacks, maybe a Toby.

"Welp. Time to face the music, huh??" you ask, standing up. You really don't want to go upstairs. You don't want to see the person who gutted and ate you. The person who caused you so much mental distress. The person upstairs.

"Good luck. Jack's not the best when it comes to reasoning with, so you might just die again," Toby grumbles to you. He doesn't look upset, though. Makes sense, seeing as he does get constant exposure to death, being a murderer and all.

You nod to Toby, then start your way up the stairs. Your legs feel like Jell-O. Your heart is racing. Each step feels more agonizing than the last.

You should turn back.

No. You're gonna act like an adult and face the murderer upstairs. The only door open is the one to your bedroom.

Haha. Nope. Maybe you should just turn back. Despite your own thoughts, you open the door wider once you reach it.

What is that thing?!

That Thing being a tall guy with just all black clothing and some weird blue mask. Why is he so tall?? You move to turn around, not wanting to deal with this.

"Where do you think you're going??"

....maybe you should have just stayed downstairs.

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A/N: I have made a poll on Quotev for what I should write once I finish this story.

Here is the link: https://www.quotev.com/quiz/16747770/What-should-I-write