Appointment

Fourth Appointment

((POSSIBLY INCREDIBLY TRIGGERING PROCEED AT OWN RISK))
Mark sat down awkwardly in his chair. Jack hadn't shown up yet. He was twenty minutes late. Was...was he ditching again? Was the idea of sharing his secret that unbearable? Did he realize Mark was a stupid, worthless person? Did he...jump again?
These thoughts cycled through Mark's panicked mind, but they vanished when the Irishman ran in. He was wheezing, sweat dripping down his face.
"S-s-sorry I'm late. Got held up by traffic. Ran up here using the stairs, elevator is fucking jam-packed." He said breathlessly. Mark blushed, shaking his head.
"No, no, it's fine." Jack flopped down onto the floor, not bothering to make it to the chair. Mark smiled softly.
"You didn't have to run..."
"I owed you. I'm s'posed to tell you today. I didn't wanna waste any more time than necessary."
"You still didn't have to run."
"Nah, but I looked damn cool doing it." Jack grinned, and Mark chuckled. He helped the shorter man up, and sat him in the patient chair. Mark plopped into the doctor chair.
"So. Still feel like sharing?"
"Sure. Why the hell not. I've still got some adrenaline in me, might last me long enough to at least get started."
"Alright. Go ahead."
"Haaaah. So. I was 24..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jack laughed.
"You've gotta be kidding me. Seriously? Gavin, you've gotta be kidding me." Gavin shook his head.
"No, man, for real. I saw it, too. She was alllllll over Peter." Alex butted in.
"Set your sights higher, I mean, Peter? Of all people? He spends his days doing weed and buying canned peaches!" Jack complained.
"Jack, that's absurd." Milo added, snorting.
"Nah, nah, I heard it!" Jack grinned.
"From...?" Milo prodded.
"His fucking blog, man. I couldn't make that shit up if I tried." Jack shrugged. Alex rolled his eyes.
"You're the king of weird stories, man." He commented, nudging Jack in the shoulder.
"Ah, hey, shut up!" Jack retorted, fake offended.
They were walking down an alleyway, taking a shortcut to get to their homes. It was easier than dodging thousands of cars on the main roads, quicker too. They were used to this route. Jack thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but didn't pay it any mind.
"Hey, Milo-" he started, glancing at his friend.
A gunshot rang out. Milo staggered and fell to the ground, his head oozing crimson blood. Jack froze, unable to process what just happened. He turned around to warn Gavin and Alex, who were starting to run in fear. As he watched, Alex's forehead blossomed a bright red, and he fell forwards onto the cement, his eyes wide in an expression of terror. Gavin got hit in the leg, and dropped to his knees, shrieking horribly. The noise was cut off by a bullet to the throat. Only Jack was still alive, his pupils dilated and his heart racing.
"You look pretty." A voice rasped, walking towards him with the gun aimed at Jack's head. Jack's breathing was unsteady and his knees were shaking.
"You...just..."
"Shhhh, shh shh shh. No need to point out the obvious. You look...ah! You look like a vampire!" The figure, a man, sang.
"A...what?"
"Vampires drink blood, right? Riiiiiiiight?" The man giggled, taking out a knife and ripping a cut in Milo's neck. Jack gagged, covering his mouth.
"OOOOOH. There, there, now you can eat! Eat up!" The man clapped his hands. Jack shook his head, trembling in terror. The man's smile cracked and his voice went up an octave higher.
"If you're not gonna eat...then you're gonna die." He cocked the gun, pointing it directly at Jack's forehead. Tears brimmed in the Irishman's eyes, and he slowly moved to kneel down next to Milo. The gun was pressed against his head, and he was forced to bend down.
'I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry...' Jack's mind called out, begging for forgiveness, as he knelt down and started to drink the blood. Almost immediately, he started to feel sick. It tasted like metal, metal and death and pain and gunpowder and fear-
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Jack was jolted out of his spiral of nightmares by the man's sharp cackling.
"You drank it, you drank it! Now you belong to meeeeeeee!" The man sang giddily. Jack shuddered, spitting out the blood and throwing up. Then he felt a sharp tugging sensation on his hair. His head was yanked up, and he coughed. Blood, Milo's blood, was dripping down from his mouth and onto his blue hoodie.
He was slammed down into the pavement, his face burning in pain. He heard a rustling, then felt his pants slipping down. He whirled around, trying to get away-
But the gun was still pointed at his face.
"No." Jack whispered. He knew what was going to happen.
"No, no, no, NO, NO, NOOOOO!" He shrieked, scrambling away, but the man caught him and slammed him down to the ground again.
"HEEEEEEELP! PLEASE, HELP ME!" Jack screamed, but nobody heard him. They'd always used the alleyway because it was quiet there. Nobody they'd hear. Nobody to hear them.
His vision grew blurry and dark, and he couldn't fight back anymore.
"H...help..."
His sight faded to black as he heard the man cackling.
When he woke up, he was on a hospital bed. The man was gone. The alleyway was gone. But he could still remember it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Help...help...help..." Jack whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks. He wasn't looking anywhere, and he didn't look like he was conscious even though his eyes were open.
"Jack! Jack, snap out of it! Wake up, please!" Mark shook Jack by the shoulders. 'No, no, not again, don't you shut down on me again, please, please!' He thought frantically. But Jack couldn't see him. He could only see the man, the faceless man with the distorted voice and the malicious grin, the one who destroyed everything Jack had been. He had no face, nothing to determine him from the others in a crowd. For the life of him, Jack couldn't remember anything about the man. Just what he did. The demon in the alleyway. The one that made him afraid of everything. The one that destroyed everything he used to be, turning him into a scared, fragile shadow of a being. The man he could see warped in front of him, shrieking in laughter.
"No...no...GET AWAY FROM ME!" Jack shrieked, lashing out wildly. He felt his hand connect with something, and he gasped. He's never been able to hit the man before. An instinctual sense of wrongness overcame him and he snapped out of it, returning to the therapy room with Mark. Except...something was wrong. Mark had fallen to the floor. Why? He was holding a hand to one side of his face. What had happened?
"Mark?" Jack asked worriedly.
"Oh, huh?" Mark looked up, doing his best to play it cool. He sat up and looked at Jack.
"Are you okay?" Jack asked, looking confused. Mark grinned.
"I'm fine." He said breezily, ignoring the pain starting to shoot through his cheek. Jack's eyes narrowed and he moved Mark's hand before the American had time to react. It had been covering the left side of his face.
Jack gasped when he saw it. Three long scratches, running down Mark's cheek. Bleeding slightly, the skin red and angry.
"Oh my god." Jack whispered. The only way Mark could've gotten those injuries was... He looked fearfully at his own hands.
"Wait, Jack, it's nothing deep, it's okay, I'm alright-" Mark started hurriedly. Jack shook his head fervently.
"No, it's not. This has happened before, I thought I saw the man and I hurt Signe... I have to stop doing this, I have to...I can't...but...I'm so..." Jack faltered, looking terrified. Then, he bolted. Dashing out the door, he ran out into the night streets, dodging cars and racing wildly.
"JACK!" Mark called as Jack ran away, starting to stand up.
"Shit. I don't know what he's going to do...I need to hurry..." Mark darted into his bathroom, tossing open his medicine cabinet. He put a large bandage on his scratches after putting on some ointment, and breathed deeply. Jack needed him. He can't just let him down.
From his phone, he sent his report.
"Feb 8th, XXXX.
He's getting better. When he first came in, he didn't speak, not really. He told me what happened to him. He's been through Hell. Friends murdered right in front of him. Forced to drink their blood as the maniac held a gun to his head. He was raped, left unconscious on the pile of corpses. No wonder he didn't want to live anymore. No wonder he jumped. I know I have to save him, and I want to, I just don't know how I can. He doesn't...does he even want to be saved? Or does he just want to be done? ...fuck it. I'm going after him."
He didn't mention the scratch, and ran after Jack as fast as he could.