My stomach rumbled uncomfortably as I laid back on the couch. Ugh, what I would give for some breakfast right now... Or something to drink, even. I knew Jack was feasting in the kitchen. The sound of the refrigerator door yanking open and slamming closed let me know that, enough. I was just glad he wasn't eating his organs in front of me... I would probably go into a full scale panic attack if I saw. A new scary thought ran through me. How much... did he have? How long would it last? I could have sworn I went green as I sat there, wondering how much longer I would have to live.

My head snapped over to see Eyeless Jack as he entered the room. He was adjusting his navy mask over his face, his empty gaze landing on me almost instantly. I bit my lip, afraid of what was to come. I tried to sit up, as best I could, but that only resulted in the rope cutting into my wrists even harder. I flinched as they bit into my skin, the warm trickle of my blood coating my skin as they did. I grimaced in pain, slumping back down to stop it in some way. I heard Jack curse under his breath, before heading out of the room. Not too long after, however, he returned. A pair of gloves, and bandages laid in his hands.

"What are you-" I began, before he sat at the end of the couch.

My natural instinct was to shy away from him. But my curiosity won out as he released my wrists from their rope imprisonment. The fresh air slightly stung as it hit my bleeding, raw skin. Even still, it was better than before. Jack was silent as he took one, wiping the blood away before wrapping it up. My gold eyes appraised him as I laid there, not understanding him one bit. He was tending to my wounds? Once done with the first, he went to the second. I couldn't find an emotion on his face due to his mask, and lack of eyes... I was more than confused. After he was done, he slid the gloves on my hands.

"There. Now it shouldn't cut your skin," he nodded, winding the rope back around my wrists, holding them in place once more. He stood up, beginning to walk away.

"Why did you do that?" I questioned, unable to help but ask.

His stiff form froze, for just a moment, before he twisted around. "The cuts could have gotten infected. The infection could have spread. And I don't need my food going bad," he shrugged, zero emotion in his voice.

I sighed. Leave it to me to think he was beginning to show a tiny bit of compassion. "Can I have something to eat then?" I murmured, sounding nearly as cold as him.

He cracked his knuckles, a sort of awkwardness now in his stance. "Oh, I forgot about that..." he whispered. I rolled my eyes. "I don't think there's any food in here, besides my own. I'll um... go see," he murmured, walking into the kitchen.

I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. It was obvious he wasn't used to communicating with others. The awkwardness and slight shyness was quite funny. The only thing he appeared used to was inflicting pain and fear. He was sure an interesting guy, I'll give him that. I reminded myself that I needed to get him attached. With how socially awkward he was, however, I didn't know if such was remotely possible. A few minutes later, he returned to the room. In one of his hands was a stack of seemingly stale crackers, and in the other was a tall glass of tap water. I blinked, my stomach shaking it's head no. But, I didn't really have a choice.

"This is all I could find," he murmured, walking over. Within a second, he released my stinging wrists once more before handing it over. Even though I ached for something else, I dug in. I was finished within seconds, the bland aftertaste of the crackers swimming in my mouth. I pursed my lips, drinking the water.

"So... how long do you think you're organs are going to last you?" I asked, avoiding his stone gaze. I twiddled my free fingers, not knowing how much longer they would be.

"Um... probably around five days," he shrugged, not seeming to know for sure.

My stomach dropped. Five days. I had five days left. I sucked in a deep breath before nodding my head. "Oh. Okay."

He cocked his head. "You're a strange one," he murmured beneath his breath, his non moving appearance slightly eerie.

"What?" I scoffed, the corners of my lips turning down. "How am I strange? You're one to talk," I mumbled beneath my breath.

He shook his head. "I don't understand how you are sitting there speaking so casually," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's... not natural. Everyone else screams, or begs, or cries. Or simply says nothing at all. Yet to you, it's all sunshine and rainbows," he growled, his anger appearing to rise.

"I figure why waste the time I do have screaming, crying or begging," I shrugged, finding that to be a good enough answer for the cannibal.

He let out a small huff before walking over, binding my wrists once more. "That's a strange perspective," he stated, turning away afterward.

"Well, not everyone's the same," I chuckled in response.

Not offering another reply, he was gone, exiting from the room. I sighed. He was calling me strange. I rolled my eyes, finding the entire thing to be so fucked up, that it wasn't funny. Deep down, I wanted to be crying and screaming and begging. But I was simply on survival mode right now, doing anything and everything possible to get that monster to like me. At least enough to not want to eat me. I shivered, pushing away the tears that ached to be released. It was hard getting him to, though. He was so socially awkward that it was almost funny. Perhaps, though, that would help out later on.

I could only hope...

Please review! :)