You jerked awake, and immediately curled into a ball.

The pain was overwhelming. Every single part of your body was throbbing, some worse than others. Your lower back felt like a giant bruise, as did the lower part of your stomach. Your head was pounding so hard you were surprised Jack couldn't hear it.

Where is he?

Though you could barely manage to open your eyes, let alone move, you uncurled and propped yourself up on your elbows. Given the lack of windows and still no fucking clock, you had no idea what time it was or how long you'd been unconscious – only that Jack was now lying beside you in, from what you could tell, only a t-shirt, facing away from you and perched on the edge of the bed like he was trying not to touch you.

That would be a first.

When he realized you had moved, Jack reached over and picked something up off of the floor. When he slipped it on over his face, you realized it was his mask. He turned to you then, and sat up fully.

You took the opportunity to take in his appearance. His skin was a dark gray, and where veins would be on a normal person were black lines under his skin. His arms were covered in scars, from what looked like assorted cuts and burns. They were a pale, pale white, and would have looked human if there was any hint of pink. His hair was reddish brown and shaggy, and it fell over his forehead and his eyes. He pushed it back over his head with one hand, and while it didn't stay in place, it fell over to the side. He didn't seem to notice.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was more gravelly than it usually was.

Has he been asleep?

"What happened to me?"

He reached out and put his hand on your chest. You tried to jerk away, but the pain was too great – you doubted you'd be able to walk properly for a very long time. He pushed you back down to the bed and laid your arms at your sides, as of you couldn't do it on your own.

"Don't move, or I'm going to have to restrain you again."

"You'd restrain me again anyway."

He growled lowly. "Don't talk to me that way, little one, or I'll remove some of your liver next."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't dare move.

He laughed at your silence. You hated that laugh, it was like someone rubbing a brick wall with sandpaper and groaning while they did it – Jack was appearing less and less human as the time went on, and you had no idea how to ask him just what was going on.

"Jack, please, tell me what you did to me." You felt disgusting, but begging was the last thing you had left if you wanted any type of information at all. He didn't deserve this from you.

"Well," he snapped, baring his teeth at you like a wild animal, "Since you asked so nicely, pet, I made it even easier for myself to use you the way I intended."

He crawled over to you until he was almost directly on top of you, and bent his head to your ear.

His whisper was raspy and cold, and you shivered when you felt the cold of his mask on your temple. "Just the way I like it, pet."

You jerked your head away and winced as the painful throbbing worsened.

He laughed again, and the tears started streaming down your face. You were surprised Jack didn't start eating them again.

"You wanna see?"

You shook your head violently as you began to shake, but Jack gave no response besides getting off of you and picking you up. He carried you out the door and through the curtains, then unceremoniously dropped your legs so you were pseudo-standing in front of one of his cabinets. He was holding you up with his forearms in your underarms, a bit like a forklift, but you were almost grateful he hadn't dropped you anyway.

You raised your head and realized that there was a mirror in front of you. It was smallish, but it showed off a your face and torso, a bit below your hips. Jack's head was a few inches above yours, and you couldn't see him in the mirror.

You were shocked at your appearance. You had the darkest circles and biggest bags you'd ever seen under your eyes, and you were paler than a sheet. Your lips were chapped, and your hair was a ratty grease trap. You looked away from your face quickly, unable to stand it.

Jack took one of his arms out from under you when he decided you weren't moving fast enough. It was hard to support your own weight, but with your back against his and one of his arms still holding you, it was bearable.

That is, until he yanked your shirt up. You fell to your knees when you saw the cut. Jack let you fall.

It was at least eight inches long, and ran across your lower abdomen like a grotesque smile. It was a bright red, like it hadn't happened too long ago, and there were at least forty stitches.

Jack squatted behind you. "You're going to have to forgive me for not doing a proper hysterectomy, pet, but I wanted to have a little fun."

--

AN

Hey guys! Just 2 things to say.

1. Thanks for so many reads! I hardly started this a week ago and there are already over 300! I can't tell you how much it means to me. Also, thanks to Yuki @Yuki-1_1 for their lovely comments.

2. School starts tomorrow for me. I'll get as much done today as possible, but after that I'll be updating far less frequently. Sundays are probably when I'll be most active.