Laughing Jack X Reader

Chapter 25

~Your P.O.V~

Your eyes opened slowly, and at first you were expecting to be greeted by the brightly lit, blindingly white room of the hospital. However, upon your eyes adjusting and your brain kicking into reality, you realised that you were in another room.

Sitting up with a yawn, you rubbed your eyes and stretched. It felt good to sit up, but the sudden dizziness had you leaning against the wall with a groan.

"Where am I...?" You mumbled, taking in the not so decorated room, "What happened...?"

As you thought, images flashed through your mind. The overly tall clown and two misshapen guys that had kidnapped you from the hospital. The trek through a strange place, full of wailing toys, and the mansion in the middle of the woods.

And the room. You looked around again, weren't the walls red or gold? You also remember the carpet being a lush, fluffy red as well.

Yet that wasn't what it was now.

The room had changed, a light hung from the roof, just a bulb on covered wires, and it spread shadows over the darkened and rotten walls. The once elegant wallpaper was now peeling, revealing a grey-ish wood underneath, similar to the door.

The floor was wooden as well, looking like it would snap under your weight. You lowered your gaze, bouncing a little to test its strength. It didn't budge, so the old looking wood was just that, a style of some sort.

You turned your gaze from the floor and took in the rest of the room. Dusty shelves sat here and there, a few broken here and there. They had nothing on them, all bare except one. It held two items, one looked familiar, and you wondered why an aged Jack-in-the-Box would make you feel at home.

Walking over to the shelf, you reached up and picked it up, feeling the wood prick your fingers with splinters. You ignored it, and turned the box over in your hands, looking at the faded images and colours.

You smiled softly, holding the crank in your hand, and turning the handle. The old tune of 'Pop Goes the Weasel' started, sounding strained against time and the dust that seemed to coat the box, but still it pushed through. Humming with it slowly, you watched, waiting for the lid to pop open and show you a clown.

When the music hit its cue, the lid did open, but nothing came out. You frowned slightly, disappointed, maybe it was broken?

You put it back gently, not wanting to do the box any damage, and turned to the other item. This object gave you chills, it's age clear in what it was. You refrained from picking up, feeling some sort of evil vibe about it.

The mask seemed to stare at you through the eye holes, it made you uncomfortable. The white mask was chipped in some places, however the white colour was still persistent, although faded with age and dust. It had spots of red on it as well, a dark red that looked like dried paint, but you couldn't seem to find any pattern too it, the red splatters being completely random.

You shuddered, stepping away from the shelf and looking around, taking in the old rusty frame of the bed you woke up on, the stripped sheets a mess, the lamp also looking aged and dusty.

How old was this room? How old was the clown that lived in it?

Finally, you noticed Laughing Jack wasn't here. Scanning the room, you realised you had been alone since you woke up. Where was he? You remembered him sitting next to you as you fell asleep, did he sleep too? Does he sleep?

You sighed, before holding your head. The room started to spin, so you sat on the bed, waiting for the dizziness to stop. Sudden colour caught your eye, and you faced the bedside table. A bowl of candy and a letter seemed to appear out of nowhere, you don't remember seeing it there before.