Bound: Eyeless Jack Story

the beginning /1/

ONE | maya

"The inhabitants eighteenth birthday has arrived, and they are now herby sacrificed to the all powerful Chernevog." A man says, raising a circular object.

A boy is tightly woven up against a wooden post, his hands tied behind his back, as well as his feet. Long, black claws on both hands and feet are unsheathed completely. His skin is a deep gray, the hue spreading throughout his entire body. He has extremely sharp teeth, with more than what is humanly possible. The boy struggles immensely against the harsh grip of the ropes, swinging his head back and forth.

A blindfold rests on top of his eyes.

"The sacrifice shall begin."

The man rips off the blindfold, and under it resides terrified green eyes.

"What's going on!" he cries. "Why are you doing this to me?"

The man places two fingers upon the boys face, one above the eyelid and one below. He spreads them upwards, and forcefully plunges the object inside his eye.

The boy wails in great pain as blood spritz out, with the man twisting the object and brutally gorging his eye out of its socket.

The second one accompanies the first, equally as brutal. Blood streams down the boys face, dripping down upon the ground and himself.

The further the ritual goes, the brutal men begin chanting an unusual language with strong voices.

One acquires a small container with a sticky black substance inside, and proceeds to pour the contents inside the boys eyes.

His piercing screams echo throughout the quiet night, the full moon gleaming over in the empty sky.

-

126 years later.

I jolt awake with a shout, my hand slamming against my blanket.

I shift myself over towards my nightstand and fumble for my phone. When my finger slips over the power button, the bright light illuminates my face. My eyes strain against the sudden change.

A couple iMessages and texts.

A few other notifications from Snapchat.

6:12 AM.

Friday.

I groan, the realization hitting me that it's not the weekend yet. My hands lean against the mattress, and I push myself up - the blanket covering my body sliding off. I reach beside me and switch my lamp on, swinging my legs off of the bed to stand up. My feet wriggle in my carpet as soon as they hit the floor. I raise my arms to stretch, my head gently rubbing against my shoulder.

My mind goes blank for a second as I ponder of what to wear. I head over to my closet, and slide it open. A dark gray Van Halen shirt seems rather adequate. Light wash ripped American Eagle jeans accompany the shirt soon after, and then a pair of black hightop converse. Before I go downstairs, I make sure I grab my tennis bag, my bookbag and my keys. Unzipping the Head bag, I check to see if I have what I need: my skirt, my top, a pair of spandex, my racquet, perfume, deodorant, dry shampoo....more stuff....hair-bands and my Nikes. I silently nod my head in approval when I confirm everything. My fingers tug at the small zipper, and I close the bag. My hands lower down to the top of my thighs, and I push down against the ground to stand up.

With a small huff and a bag slung over each shoulder, I turn on my heels and start to head down. The aging stairs groan beneath my feet as I descend. I slightly hop down, and pad to the kitchen. My mother is frantically stomping around and gathering her things for work, while my sister, Hayley, is sitting in the living room eating breakfast.