For another hour, you sit watching the blood run down your shirt. It hurt so bad, but all you could do was feel the warm tears stream down your face. You felt sorry for yourself. Sorry you ever thought things could get better. Look at you, resorting to inflicting pain for satisfaction in your own damn life. You chuckle in disbelief. You felt your legs become numb, but it was okay. Your mind was numb enough, why not get physical, too? Your head felt heavy, as well. No matter what you tried to convince yourself to do, you still wouldn't move. Time went by so slow, and you were there for every excruciating second.

A door slams open, and your ears perk up. Maybe it was Jane or Sally. Maybe they could help! Or, possibly Toby. Oh, how you missed his lips. You needed another rush. Another distraction to get you through your day.

A hooded figure walks into the kitchen, and stops in front of you. His attire drips with blood, and it's not until you see the moonlight shine on his scalpel that you see it's the man who operated on you. He audibly, in the most exaggerating way possible, sighs. You roll your eyes, and he shakes his head in response. The man turns around, rummaging through cabinets and drawers in front of you. He pulls out a bunch of gauze, some threading, and a needle.

At this point, you didn't even care. You put a hand up before he could kneel down.

"Honestly, I couldn't care less. If it's alright with you, I'll take my leave right here." you feel another tear run down.

"No chance. You're too precious to Toby. He's my friend, that means you are, too. Let me help you."

He gently kneels beside you, and pulls down his hood. The man rolls up his sleeves, revealing a murky grey skin tone. He removes his mask, and you couldn't stop yourself from staring.

"They don't call me Eyeless Jack for no reason, ya know," you thought back to your previous conversation, and find that his tone of speech differed greatly. He was more relaxed. Less robotic. "I'm gonna need to rip off your shirt, are you okay with that?"

You nod, and he grabs scissors from the countertop. Jack performs as he stated, and slowly peels away the arm affected. He tenderly wipes away blood around the wound, then uses an alcoholic substance to disinfect more. Most of the blood, to your dissatisfaction, had stopped flowing out of the wound, so he had an easier job stitching you up. You constantly winced at each needle insertion, but he was done in mere minutes.

He throws a bunch of paper towels at you, motioning at your spill. Well, excuse you for bleeding out you guess. You roll your eyes and soak up most blood. This time, he throws a damp towel for you to wipe away the rest. When you finish, he offers a hand. You take it, and he slowly pulls you up, placing a hand on your back for good measure.

Jack reaches into the fridge you were laying on, and pulls out some orange juice.

"There's a cookie over there, grab one and go rest so you don't lose anymore blood or go around passing out. You deserve a better death than that." he flashes you a dangerous smile, rows of pointy teeth giving you a chill.

You smile back, "Thanks, I think?"

You make your way up the steps, clutching the railing even as you get to the top step. Jack watches you, and gives you a wave.

"You woulda been such a delightful snack!" yeaaaaa, you grin and move on to sleep, trying to shake the memory of him trying to feast on you out of mind.