Can't Escape Your Past

Chapter two- A Familiar Face

Eyeless Jack's P.O.V

I walk through the alleys trying to avoid the light and being noticed as much as possible. It's too bright to be looking for a new victim in this sunlight; but I'm feeling really hungry right now so I must. Once I find the perfect meal I have to follow them home and wait till they sleep.

Many people pass me: fat, skinny, tall, short, young, old... you name it. None good enough for a meal yet. I continue to look for a couple more hours. But then, the perfect one is right in front of me.

She's got enough fat on her, but not too much. Her hair is a brownish-red colour, and her eyes are blue-green. She's quite lovely.

But there's something about her... something far too familiar for me to not know. It's the shape of her face and the way she just walks. It's boggling my mind here. Oh well, I need my meal.

I just need to wait a while longer. A few more days. Sunday night; that gives me nearly a week. Those six day will give me a chance to plan and when the time is right to strike.

I follow the girl back to her house. I remember this house somewhere in the back of my mind also. She goes inside and closes the door.

I walk to the alley behind her house and sit on the ground. I know no one else is home because the driveway is completely empty, so I don't have to completely hide for a while.

***

The hours pass by slowly, I watch the sun slide through the sky until the sun sets. That's something I love about the world- the beauty of the sunset. In the time I was sitting there I'd heard two cars pull into the driveway. So now the girl wasn't the only one there.

I decide that I should probably get home since I have six days to wait, my hunger will just have to hold off until then. Maybe I'll sharpen my knives to pass the time, I've got so many of them anyways. I get up and walk through the alley and into the next.

After walking through allies and even more after that, I finally make it to the entrance to the woods were I live. I enter the forest and walk slowly, yet confidently through the small and overgrown trail. I listen to the sounds around me; they're all so calming to me. That's why I like the isolation of my small cabin.

All of the Creepypastas that've found they're way here live somewhere out in these giant woods. Not too many have, but that's all right to me, I really seem to like my life not very crowded. So far only a few Creepypastas have joined us here: Slender Man, Jeff the Killer, Smile Dog, and Clockwork (she's actually pretty sexy for a Creepypasta. And hey, you can think a woman looks really good, and not be attracted to her). I'm kinda glad Slender Man keeps us all hidden from others on the outside of his magic wall. And that Jane the Killer hasn't found her way around it. Jeff ain't that terrible of a guy. Not to mention that it's really Jane's main goal in life to stab the living shit outta Jeff.

When I reach my average-sized cabin I find the door open. I don't remember leaving it like that, that's probably not a good sign. Usually when this happens a certain someone has broken into my house. I have no idea why he does it, he just does.

I walk through the open door and find that certain black-haired, white hooded, killer. Jeff the Killer. "Jeff, the fuck are you doing here?" I yell.

Jeff jumps from the wooden chair he's sitting in and stands up on his feet turned to me. "Uuuuuummm..." he starts. "Was just paying a little visit to an old friend," he answers with his permanent smile. I still can't get over the fact that he has no friggin' eyelids and will never blink again.

"Yeah, course you were," I say. "And shouldn't you get home to your wife anyways?"

"Oh, she'll be fine. But I guess you're right,"

"I'll probably end up seein' you around sometime," I say.

"Oh, and before I go. Have you killed in a while yet?" asks Jeff.

"No," I say, "but I've found the perfect victim and I'm going to kill her on Sunday night,"

"Cool. I best be going then. See ya!" he leaves and I shut the door behind him. He can be a good guy sometimes; but other times he can be a total pain in the ass!

While walking over to my knife wall, my stomach growls. I try to tell myself that it'll just be a few more days. Those days will probably feel like years. I reach the knife wall and search for the perfect knife.

I've got some nice scalpels, but then again I've got some really nice long blades. Those ones aren't as good for cutting people open but I've done it before, so it is possible. But for this job, I need a quick hand; I think a scalpel will work a lot better.

I grab the largest, yet sharpest scalpel off of the wall and place it on the table. So glad this isn't the one Jeff seemed to have 'borrowed'. But then again, he hasn't taken a knife in a few months. I walk away from the knife and go towards the door.

I grab one of the wooden chairs and block it off. I put what I like to call 'Jeff-Proof' blockers on the windows. They keep him from breaking in when I'm sleeping. The only times I put them up is when he's already broken in, and I feel it's better to be safe than sorry. I don't need him breaking back in.

Once I finish I walk to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, I remove my mask. I stare at my empty eye socket and the scar across my other eye. I remember the pain of these wounds being inflicted like it was only yesterday.

My mother had gotten angry with me for something. But then again, she was a heavy drug addict and alcoholic. So she took a knife and cut out my eye and scarred the other one. I was nine years old.

When I went to to school the next day, the other kids either screamed or made fun of me. But my lifelong friend Wren tried to fend them off; I think she may have even punched one right out. But I couldn't take it, so I just left that night and never came back. I miss her, I really do; except now this is my life. And I don't think she'd even except me again... wherever she could be.

As I walk into my small bathroom, I take off my dark blue, eye socket-less mask. I can only stare at the scars in agony of the memories. I truly am a complete monster, aren't I?

I look away and over to the shower. I'll probably need one of those. I step up to it and remove my black sweater and black jeans, and I only stand in my boxers. I turn on the shower and step inside after removing my remaining clothes.

As much as I once tried to get the water at least to a warm temperature, it would never go past mildly cold. But by now I've gotten used to it... no matter how much it freezes. I run my hand over my short, brown hair. I always cut it to a really short length with a knife. It's easier to go and hunt without hair in the way.

I don't spend too much time in the shower, five minutes maybe. But afterwards I step out. While wrapping a towel around my waist I pick up my clothes and put them back on. I walk over to the sink were my blue mask lay on the counter. I look at my face one more time, put the mask on, and walk out the door. The funny thing about the mask is I never take it off; I even sleep with it on. The sad life of being me I guess.

I sit in a wooden chair beside the table holding my precious scalpel. I grab it, pick the sharpening stone from the table, and sharpen the lovely blade. The sound it makes is so lovely. Just a light screeching sound almost.

After a while I stop paying attention until I realize I've cut my palm with the knife. Blood falls from my hand and onto the wooden floor. "Shit," I say.

I put my belongings down and walk to the bathroom. I open the small cupboard and pull out a roll of bandages. I wash the cut off and quickly wrap the bandage around my palm. Oh well, serves me right for not paying attention.