Oracle

Part 8

Jaspar woke up confused and in pain. Everything was dark and his eyes were hurting so much. He groaned. Just how much had he had to drink the previous night. He couldn't remember a thing. He curled in the bed, wondering why it was so dark. The last thing he could remember was dancing at a bar in the dark side of the city. The strobe lights had almost been dizzying but it had been a fun night but he hadn't slept well. Nightmares had filled his dreams, making his stomach feel queasy.

His eyes itched as well as hurt.

Wondering what he could have done to hurt them, Jaspar reached up to rub them, only to feel fabric wrapped around them. He frowned, rubbing his hands over the fabric when the memory of the nightmare hit him in the gut.

"No," he whispered pulling at the fabric but it didn't budge. Whoever had placed it on him had been a professional and it was not meant to come away as easily as fingers pulling at the material. He hiccupped as fear soared inside of him, anxiety building in his stomach and his hands shaking. Jaspar ran his hands over his eye sockets, trying to feel the familiar bump of eyeballs still attached.

He couldn't feel anything.

A strange sound came out of Jaspar's mouth. One of fear and panic but not quite yet a scream. It had been real.

The events of the night before had been real. He had revealed to a dark and handsome stranger that he was a seer. The stranger had been wearing a leather coat and leather pants which shaped around his butt snuggly. Jaspar had gone along with the man, thinking he was about to get laid when things had taken a turn for the worse. Jaspar almost laughed at the wording in his own head. Turn for the worse sounded so tame, so innocent compared with what happened next. The nightmares deep from within the back of his mind, buried long ago came to life.

That person had then delivered him to a man. A man, possibly called the butcher but Jaspar couldn't really care at the moment the exact names of the people who had been involved in this, who had removed his eyes surgically. He had been forced to watch as the man cut his eyes out. Light blinking out of his vision suddenly and without mercy. He was blind. He couldn't see anymore. Or rather, he could, Jaspar's mouth dried.

The events which had happened after he had his eyes taken were just as nightmarish as the very fact his eyes had been removed. After the man had removed his eyes, he hadn't been so crass as to laugh evilly. If anything the man had been entirely apathetic and uncaring towards Jaspar. It was just another day at the office for him after all, Jaspar thought despairingly, his fingers digging into his arms and he tried to remain calm. With a title like 'the butcher' no doubt he did this for a living and had cut up many a young man in his time.

After the man had got what he wanted or was needed from Jaspar, the man had thrown him away. Not literally, not on to the streets but into the hands of a guard who had laughed evilly. Who had then dragged him down metal stairs into a room which in many ways had likely been better not to see and tried to gang rape him with his friends.

They hadn't succeeded. The gods did not hate Jaspar to that extent it seemed as they had sent someone to stop them. His white knight, however, was not some angel or good hearted soul but the very man who had delivered him to the butcher in the first place.

Jaspar wished he could remember the man's name. He had been oddly gentle with Jaspar, but his hands had been cold. Then it had happened. He had a vision and the man had acted as an anchor all the way through it. Gulping, Jaspar remembered how angry the man had sounded before he had passed out. Maybe the gods had only sent him to a worse fate.

Still. The question now was, where was he now?

He was clean, Jaspar could tell that. Clean and wearing some soft clothes which felt too heavy to be pyjamas so they were more likely slacks. His hair felt clean too, so someone must have washed him down and dressed him for bed. The pants were long, as was the t-shirt sleeves which while making him very warm was also making him feel considerably safer. The ghost touch of fingers moved over his skin. Ghost touches of men who were long since dead.