in which it's slow and painful and jack isn't as he seems.

----------

jack knows fine well what's tipping him over the edge.

he knows that it's the shallow, coarse breaths that tremble from once-pink-turned-blue lips, parted and unable to close because whilst they could try, they simply can't.

knows that it's the fact that every few minutes, there's a whimper, a cry of pain or quiver of regret or just a noise because it's too fucking hard to keep quiet in such utter silence.

a silence only broken by a constant, off beat echo of drain water hitting concrete.

knows that it's the power he has over this body, growing limp, bound to a wooden desk chair for no reason other than he's bored. he's bored and wants to go out and do something. because he doesn't like being holed up in his bedroom, it's not fun.

this is fun.

and jack's being tipped over the edge but doesn't seem to care.

because this isn't jack.

the normal jack would care, the normal jack would completely care. the normal jack wouldn't hurt a fly. the normal jack wouldn't laugh at anothers pain. the normal jack wouldn't do this and the normal jack wouldn't do that because the normal jack isn't a fucking psychopath.

but this jack is.

which is why he's no longer in his bedroom, cuddled up to his boyfriend watching howls moving castle and gushing over the art style.

because he's not the normal jack right now.

he's not jack because his hairs gotten lighter and his eyes are glazed over with a voice black film that screams death. he's not jack because when he talks it's backed by static and off pitch words and when he moves it's never fluid, it's buffered and quick.

he's not jack because jack just wouldn't do this.

the body in the chair moves.

it's one tiny muscle spasm, in her left leg, and it kicks out slightly, and it shouldn't be a big deal but this jack turns ballistic.

"i told you not to fucking move!"
to the girl, his harsh step looks like two and his voice is wavering between soft and coarse, sounding at so many different octaves that it gives her a headache and she winces.

she tries an 'im sorry' but it won't work. there's rope and cloth between her teeth that holds her head tight against the back of the chair. her neck is strained, and when she tries to talk her throat closes and the tightly bound material around her neck rubs against red raw skin, and it hurts.

and he knows it hurts.

that's why this jack is smiling.

"oh, i'm sorry...was that painful?"

there's a flicker of neon green enjoyment in his cold, dead sockets, and he knows it's wrong but god fucking damn it, that's the point. that's why he's doing this.

he's doing it for the pleasure that's crawling up his spine and over his neck and into his brain.

it's damn right controlling him

and he's loving every bit.

"you're not going to answer me, are you?"

she's crying, and shaking her head as much as the restrains will let her. it burns, and she's marked, she can feel the cuts of the rope burrowing deeper into the skin around her temples.

"what a shame, i was looking forward to hearing that lovely voice of yours. tired, and sore, and dry, and just begging for this all to be over soon."

jack chuckles.

"maybe...just maybe i'll let you talk."

and so the irishmans hands skim the girls bloody jaw, and bruised cheek and reach behind to carefully undo the knot that keeps her gagged.

"you sadistic bastard!"

she's angry, not fearful, and it's something jacks never seen before. he's curious, as he smirks, and cocks his head to the side.

"oh come on, i was being nice. ive even let you ta-"

she spits at him.

warm, cherry red blood runs in two streaks, from his right socket, and he's laughing. he calls it a pathetic attempt at revengewe, and speaks.

"honey, i wouldn't do that if i were you. its only going to make things go slower."

and it's sickly sweet sugar that drips from a venomous tongue as he ties the cloth strip back around the girls mouth, much to her protest.

"now, there's a friend i'd like you to meet. but he doesn't like noise, so i advise you to keep quiet as to ensure that you have the most...pleasurable greet possible."

and he's gone.

just like that, he turns, and he's gone. and the girl is relieved, but she still can't move and she's clueless as to when her worst nightmare will return from whatever he's doing.

she hopes it'll take a while.

but hope never seems to like her, as he appears back as soon as the thought reaches her brain.

hazel eyes grow wide, and she's trembling at the site.

jack always loved spiders.

and it seemed this one did too.

"this is sam."

in his hands, crawls an abnormally large arachnid, with a large body and even-larger legs. he's menacing, and sends shivers up the tortured girl's spine as it follows the path the irishman makes with his hands.

"say hello."

and it's as if the fucking thing can smell her fear, as as soon as the sadistic fuck holds 'sam' near her, his leg extends with one fluid motion.

jack calls it graceful.

she calls it horrifying.

she's cursing at the green haired man for choosing a chair so tall, because she can't move away, no matter how hard she pushes back and how hard she wishes for it.

all she can do is sit, and let the arachnids leg drag over her bottom lip.

she whimpers with cloth between her teeth.

"what's wrong? are you scared?"

it's rhetorical, because he knows she's fucking scared, terrified even, and he knows she's not coping with jack's beloved pet that taps gently on her chin and lip with his legs.

"don't be frightened, he doesn't bite."

and he's fucking psycho, at least, that's what she thinks when he lays sam to rest on her shoulder, with his lips that are twisted up into a grin far too close to her ear.

"not usually."

he stands back with a shit eating grin,
and admires his work.

and he's so blinded pleasure that he can barely make out the figure that's completely shutting down with anxiety, bruised and battered with a broken nose and bloody face and completely wrecked lungs. he can barely make out his pet that's roaming her body, can barely make out the girls shocked flinches at every touch of those eight legs.

it feels like moments for the green haired boy, they pass by too fast. and he's sad, because the pleasure doesn't last long enough.

bur for the girl feels like fucking hours that she has that fucking spider creeping over his shoulder and across her collar bone and she feels violated.

the whole situation is violating and completely non consensual and so utterly consequential because there's only two things she's scared of and that's death and spiders and both are about to happen in the same room and at the same time.

she's had enough.
she can't bare it she's has enough.

and she thinks he can read her mind.

because he's moving forward, with an arm extende; and he's coaxing the eight legged beast from her collar.

'please...no more'

she's fucking certain that he can read her mind now.

because he's gone.

jack's gone.

and it's just her, and sam.

and a voice.

it's jack's.

"the good news is, i'm done with you."

she thinks and waits for more.
because there must be more.
there must be b-

"the bad news is, that he's just getting started."

and all she can see is a flash of black hair and harrowing crimson eyes,
before-

nothing.

it's all black now.

and her ears are ringing.

but she can still hear something.

someone.

two someone's.

"you take too long."
a low, growling voice. this ones american, and angry, and not jack.

she doesn't have time to think about who he could be.

she doesn't have time to think about anything.

because her time is fleeting.

and in her last moments, she listens, not stopping to think about why she deserves this.

"it's called having fun."

and she's gone, but not before she identifies the second person.

it's jack.

but not the jack she met at the bar.

he's different.

and she's dead.

----------

tried something a little more...venomous and messy. i dont know what kind of response it'll get but it was so much fucking fun to write and i very much enjoy evil and slightly strange things (i have different views on anti and dark that some) so i tried my best! have a 1500 word oneshot, and thank you for reading.
-a