Cruel & Blue (Eyeless Jack story)

Chapter 10

*HEY GUYS! HERE'S ANOTHER CHAPTER OF C&B!! CX I'M GONNA BE HONEST, CHAPTERS NINE AND TEN WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ONE SINGLE CHAPTER. BUT THE DRAFT HAD TURNED OUT TO BE LONGER THAN NECESSARY SO I CUT IT IN HALF AND DECIDED TO MAKE TWO SEPARATE CHAPTERS. WHY WAS THIS INFORMATION IMPORTANT? IT WASN'T. JUST FELT LIKE SAYIN' IT, YA KNOW? YOU DON'T? COOL. ALSO I WANNA TRY A LITTLE SOMETHIN' SOMETHIN'. I'M GONNA TRY ASKING QUESTIONS FOR YOU ALL TO ANSWER IN THE COMMENTS AND STUFF SO THAT WAY WE ALL CAN BE ONE MUAHAHA- NO THAT'S NOT WHY. LET'S DO THIS SHIZZ CUZ WHY NAWT??? (spellingOCDcommencing)

QUESTIONS!!!
-What is your favorite color? (Mine is Ao....~ba dum tsss~)
-What do you guys think Sam looks like?

THAT WILL BE ALL!! ENJOY THE UPDATE!*

Stay Creepy, My Friends!~

Chapter 10

Jack.

He broke into my home and then attacked me? What the hell?!

I was about to scold him for putting me in a choke-hold, when I noticed that something was wrong with him. His breathing was airy and shallow, he had a hand clutching his stomach, and his posture was lazy, exhausted even. I walked over to the light switch, flipped it on and was finally able to see what was wrong. Jack's clothes were bloody, torn; blood spotted onto his blue mask and his hair disheveled more than it usually is. Gasping, I dropped the crutch and hurriedly stumbled my way to him. I dropped down to my knees and cupped his face in my hands. "What the hell happened to you?!" I asked. I felt utterly terrified and worried for him. How did this even happen?! How did he even get in here?!

"Jack?" I called, and brushed his auburn hair out of the way of his mask. In a quiet, struggling voice, he told me, "Need....medical help....now.."

I took out my phone to call for an ambulance, when Jack literally smacked it out of my hand and said, "Don't take me to a hospital...! Treat me."

"Wh-Wha...?" I stammered, "B-But I can't-!"

"Yes, you can, Ao," he interrupted, "you've done it before. Now please...hurry.." He groaned and his body tensed up even more. Trembling from my own panic, I got up and grabbed him, draping one of his arms on my shoulders. He growled and I stammered apologizes to him about ten times within five seconds. Limping with him, I led him out of the room and towards the upstairs bathroom, which was right down the hall. It was a struggle dragging him all the way there, with my sprained ankle, my small size compared to his tall structure, and with his weight on me since he can't stand up completely on his own. We stumbled into the walls a few times, earning groans from him and "oof"s from me. Finally, we made it to the bathroom and I led him inside. Gently placing him down on the tiled floor, I told him, "Hang in there, please." He leaned against the bathtub and as I looked at him lying there, I felt more worry course within me. I kneeled down in front of the cabinet under the sink and opened it up, then grabbed the first aid kit that lay next to the bottles of bathroom cleaning agents. Without bothering to close the cabinet, I turned back around and placed the box next to Jack. I opened it up and checked the contents within it. Some bandages, disinfectant alcohol, a cleaning rag, band-aids, and surgical thread -an additional item courtesy of my surgeon mother. I went for the alcohol and cleaning rag first.

"Okay," I started, "Uh, take off your hoodie and shirt...!" Jack moved to follow my order but it pained him to do so. So, I helped him out: took off the hoodie and the muscle shirt he had under that. His torso was lined with old scars and stab wounds, some still bleeding out. Without a moment's hesitation, I reached over him and turned on the tub faucet to have some water to use to rinse him. Using the cleaning rag, I doused it in water and then washed off the blood on his gray skin until only the wounds were left clean. I rinsed him off again, just for safe measures and then turned off the running water, creating an unbearable silence.