Eyeless Jack x Reader Pt 3 - Jeremy
Slowly but surely your mind stopped agonizing over the intruder in the stockroom. As the days went on, you had other things to focus on such as menial chores and work. Of course, you won't be able to fully forget being forcefully grabbed into a dark corner and biting down on a man's hand, but there had been no other signs of break-ins or danger at the hospital. The light in the back was even replaced just the day after. So, it was safe to say you felt... well... safe.
It was your day off and you had only one chore to do, grocery shop. It wasn't always the most exciting thing to do with your time, but you enjoyed the 25-minute drive into town and the full kitchen you had at the end of your trip. With your black boots and light jacket on, you started your car's engine, drove down the dirt driveway, and eventually reached the road.
Shit, I need to fill my tank... The thought popped into your head.
"Luckily, there should be a gas station around the corner." you muttered under your breath, a small smile forming on your lips as you proved yourself right and approached the station.
You parked at the pump, only to realize you forgot your credit card at home, which meant you had to pay in cash at the register inside, something you tried to avoid to the best of your ability.
A pit of anger and regret grew in your stomach. You reached into your purse, pulled out your trusty pepper spray, clipped it to the belt loop of your pants, and prepared for the worst.
Inside the gas station was a man, a very average height, smelly, balding man. His name was Jeremy.
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Years ago, when you first moved to town, you met Jeremy at a bar. He was very obviously drunk and talking louder than anyone else in the room. The second you noticed him, alarms went off in your head. Something about that man made you very uncomfortable. Lucky you, your intuition was (as it often is) correct. Jeremy had stood up from his bar seat, stumbling a bit with his steps, tripped over lord knows what, and caught himself by grabbing onto a random woman's tits. She was also drunk and sadly didn't think much of it. You watched carefully as she brushed it off as an actual accident. That is, until Jeremy did the exact same thing to another woman only a couple of minutes later. No one in the room seemed to pay any attention to what was happening. You couldn't tell if it was because everyone was fairly intoxicated or that this was a common occurrence. However, despite your observations, you figured you wouldn't ignore this man if he came near you.
Just his energy and actions alone made you want to finish your beer and get the hell out of there. But you also felt a strong sense of justice brewing inside that you couldn't ignore. You were deep in thought on what to do as you were taking your last few sips, when a certain sweaty, stinky, drunk man-child stumbled his way over to you.
"I d'know who youu aree..." Jeremy slurred, trying to lean against the bar top. You had one hand on your glass and the other in your coat pocket, gripping your pepper spray.
"No." You dismissed him. Your voice was full of disgust as you stared intensely at him.
If there was anything you weren't, it was subtle. You had hoped you could scare the guy away with just your looks.
"Whaaaat? C'mon I wuzjus tryin to *hic* be uhhh...frie-"
An unstable excitement mixed with the want to fight took over you.
You slapped that motherfucker straight across the face without a moment to spare.
It seemed as though the entire room heard you strike him. Jeremy grabbed the side of his face, pitying himself. Your feelings that had just caused you to happily hit the man now turned to embarrassment. Your mind immediately changed, not wanting to have made a scene. Keeping your face deadpan, you took the change that was in your pocket, threw it on the counter, and walked straight out of that bar. You could hear him throwing an incoherent tantrum even with the door closed behind you.
Some fucking guy... You groaned internally.
Now, of course you thought that would be the only time you ever ran into Jeremy. Why would you ever run into him again? As far as you knew, he was some stupid bald loser who drank himself dirty every night and nothing more. However, this time you were wrong.
The next day you had to fill up your car's tank before work. You parked at the station and remembered you forgot your wallet at home, only leaving you with a $20 bill in your glove box for emergencies. You took the $20, stepped out of the car, walked to the door of the gas station, heard the -ding- of the bell, and were once again face to face with a man who looked disgustingly similar to the man you smacked the night before. As you stepped closer to the cash register you were able to get a better look, realizing it was indeed the man from last night, and on his name tag it said "Jeremy."
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Ever since then, whenever you had the unfortunate need to go into the gas station, Jeremy would be there. He always smirked at you and would say "You know I just wanted to be friends." And he always winked and he always spat a bit when he spoke.
Now you've made it to the front door. Taking a deep breath in, you braced yourself for what would transpire next. Pushing the handle, the -ding- sounded, your eyes were met with Jeremy's, and he said his infamous line, "You know I just wanted to be friends." You watched with a blank face as a small drop of saliva flew from his mouth and landed on the countertop next to his hand. You gagged internally and silently took yourself over to the drink coolers, deciding you deserved a nice fun drink after dealing with this smelly, bald weirdo.
As you made your way down the aisle, a tall man stood, his back facing yours, looking at the rack of beef jerky sticks. Ew, you thought. Jerky sticks always grossed you out. The smell, the texture, all of it. Whatever. I'm here for my drink, not to judge other people for what they eat...
You reached the fridge with your beverage of choice, reaching for the can, when out of the corner of your eye, you thought you had recognized something, that man's shoes and pants look oddly similar to what the intruder was wearing...
You noticed muddy footsteps leading to where he stood. Those shoes must've been really dirty.
You couldn't help but stare at him. Feelings of crippling anxiety started to overtake you. Now is not the time to freak out. There are countless people in this town who wear thick and muddy boots.
Forcing yourself to shrug it off, you told yourself were paranoid. Your brain was just reminding you of what had happened since you were already on edge knowing who you had to deal with now that you got your drink.
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