Middle of the Week Motivation

Poems, Patients, Switchblades and Septiceye Sam

Jack twirled the pencil around his fingers, strands of his fluffy hair covering the sparkle of insanity in his blue eyes. When he was first diagnosed as being crazy, he was given a normal room to stay while doctors tried their best to "fix" him. He's seen plenty of doctors come and go, all with years of experience, all determined to be the one to solve the famous "Jacksepticeye" case. And yet, all those doctors gave up in the end.

Jack actually hadn't seen a doctor in a few years, everyone was to scared to get close to him ever since he killed the last doctor. The man had simply gotten too close for comfort, inspecting the green haired man a bit too closely for his liking and Jack eventually got annoyed with it.

So now he stayed in this padded cell, a poor excuse for a room really, a bed here, chair there, desk in the corner and a little room attached to it where he could go to the bathroom. But Jack kept throwing glances out through the bars to the hallway. Rumors had it that a new doctor, a student fresh out of college, had taken interest in the blue eyed man's case.

He heard a noise outside the cell, but only saw a guard, who slipped him his lunch through a slot at the bottom of the door. Jack forced himself to his feet, twirling the pencil one last time before tucking it behind his ear. He grabbed the tray and slid a sheet of paper under in its place, the guard waiting patiently for him to do so.

"Ah, the poem this time McLoughlin?" Jack flickered his gaze up to he guards green eyes, the emerald gaze watching his moves carefully. "I almost expected Sam."

Those were two things that Jack was known for in his odd case, he wrote the same poem over and over again, as well as drawing Sam. Sam was an eyeball, and no one really knew why Jack drew an eyeball over and over again, but he did. Though Jack only had your average #2 pencil, so he could never color in the eyeball he constantly drew. If he did, Sam would be green, like his hair, because Sam was a Septiceye. But no one knew this, and things went on.

Jack rolled his eyes, taking his lunch over to the desk and plopping down on the chair next to it. The guard chuckled, leaning on the door a bit, one of his hands hanging dangerously close to the inside of the cell. Jack stiffened at this, almost like he had a 6th sense that his space was being invaded. He turned to glared at the guard, his eyes narrowing at his cocky behavior and carelessness.

Within seconds, Jack was at the door, catching the guards hand before he had time to withdrawal it to safety. His emerald eyes widened, fear evident and the cocky man realized his mistake. Jack jerked down on the man's hand, bringing his arm farther into the cell and making him have to catch himself so his face didn't bang against the metal bars. Jack glanced down to where the paper was crumpled against to the bars.

"Oh," Jack spoke up, eerily calm. "That one looks damaged." He used his other hand the carefully removed the paper from the guards grasp, his fingers lightly grazing over the man's skin on purpose as he did so. "Let me get you another one of those."

Jack turned his back, beginning to walk towards the stack of poems he kept in the back of his room. "Don't you dare move." Jack said, making the guard freeze, seeing as he had begun to remove his arm from harm's way.

Jack walked back over to where the black haired man stood, hardly daring to breathe. "Here." Jack said, in an almost cheery tone. He carefully handed the new paper though bars where to guard took it from him, handling it like a priceless treasure in attempts to not wrinkle it.

"Also," Jack continued, earning the guards attention. "A new doctor's coming to see me today, right?" The black haired man nodded, a bit of his hair covering his eyes as he did so. Jack smiled. "Then you might want to take this from me." Jack placed a switchblade in the palm of the guard's hand that stuck into the cell. The guard's eyes widened, revealing a little more of the emerald that lay underneath.