You slept a dreamless sleep, much to your surprise. You'd expected nightmares of terrible, terrible things; the things Jack had done to you and that the clown had done to your family. But, there was nothing, and you were rested as could be. You woke up in the same position you'd fallen asleep in, though you didn't know if you had moved and Jack had just put you back while you were sleeping. Somehow, you'd managed to stay asleep through Jack getting out of bed and getting dressed, so you didn't doubt the possibility. In any case, you were happy you'd gotten so much sleep – less time awake is less time spent with him.

"How are you feeling?"

His question came as a surprise, and you turned your head as best as you could in his direction. He didn't respond, he just waited for you to speak.

"...it hurts." Your response was quiet and gravelly, as your voice usually was in the morning, but there was an edge to it. You didn't know how your responses would make him feel.

"How?"

Why does he suddenly care about me? The last time he cared about me -- at least this much -- he kidnapped me.

"It hurts like you took out my uterus through my stomach. So, a lot."

Jack nodded as he approached you. He didn't seem angry, per se, more interested.

When he reached you, he immediately pulled your shirt up and ran his fingers over the mark. It stung a bit, and you flinched, but he didn't react and the pain subsided quickly.

He was gentle. He only used the tip of one finger to trace the mark, and the light touch raised goosebumps on your skin. Jack chuckled his dark, raspy laugh, and you would have cringed, but he interrupted your emotions.

"You like that, pet?"

Your eyes widened, and he didn't give you time to respond. His fingers ghosted up your abdomen and stomach gently, and you shivered when he reached above your navel.

"Oh, pet you do." You whimpered out loud, then winced at the noise. You feared him in this moment – you knew the sort of things he wanted to do to you, and you didn't know what would hold him back.

Would he want to tear you to pieces?

Would he be happy if you passed out from the pain?

Stuck in your thoughts, you had hardly noticed his fingers trailing farther and farther up your torso to your chest, where he scratched lines into your sternum and traced circles around your nipples. He was back in his reverence of you, a ghoulish sort of worship that made you think of people tied down to tables and impregnated with the spawn of Satan or cut open to feed the soul to the devil. It was a dark thought, and you felt almost lucky to have gotten off so easily, compared to some people.

Given, all that is probably only from the movies.

You wanted so badly to flinch away from him, to get up and run to somewhere he'd never find you ever again, but the bed surrounded you on all sides but one, and Jack was effectively taking up that space you so desperately wanted to jump through. You knew that you couldn't trust your legs, either, given the incident at the mirror, and you had no idea how long it would be before you could move again without Jack's help.

You had to endure it.

Jack had moved. One of his knees was on the bed, in the space between your waist and the edge, and his hands had travelled so that each was pinching or scratching at a nipple – the feeling was chafing, and though you knew now that he couldn't necessarily see you, you put all of your effort into trying not to make a face.

His ministrations stopped, all of a sudden, and he seemed to tear himself away from you with a growl. When he spoke, it sounded like his words were directed at himself and not you.

"Not now. You'll get hurt, or infected...I can't risk that."

You wanted, more than anything, to ask him what he meant.

***

A/N

My apologies for no update last weekend. Here's this; feedback is appreciated, as always!