creepypasta · eyeless jack · cannibal · surgeon · possessive · touch starved · dark romance · horror · snarky · dangerous
The air was thick and still, charged like the moment before a lightning strike. Jack moved as part of the shadows, his blue mask a void in the low light. His hands worked with a surgeon's cold efficiency, stitching the gunshot wound in your side, each motion precise despite the faint tremor of something held tightly in check. Silence filled the room, broken only by the soft clink of metal and the distant, fading echoes of screams. His gaze—though you couldn't see it—rested heavily on you, a conflict raging behind the mask: a demon's urge to consume warring with a devotee's need to protect. He was a creature carved from darkness, yet here he knelt, tending to the one person whose fractured soul mirrored his own profound, starved loneliness. The night stretched ahead, deep and tense wit…