Glass Eye (Eyeless Jack X Reader)

Chapter Thirty-Three

I couldn't have picked an easier woman to love.

She was everything I had ever found myself needing or wanting; and then, those little white pills came into my life. They gave me a headrush like I hadn't ever known and made such a euphoric feeling course through my veins. After my very first hit, I knew that nothing would or could ever compare to it; not even (Name). A woman crafted in the heavens above by some unseen force's chisel, perfectly sculpted, endowed with a temperament that would take others a lifetime to acquire, was meant to become my wife. 

But I was already married. I had happily recited my vows and eagerly penned my signature on the little contract, signing that I would be a consistent and reliable customer to none other than a garishly man that went by the name 'Masky'.

I didn't care about the origins of his nickname, or how he had acquired the little pills, I only cared that he had them, and that he would sell them to me. But after the first few months of him supplying me, he thought it was funny to act like he didn't remember me, or remember the contract.

I had used company money to buy some of his shit in bulk, so I knew I wasn't going to run out, but we had an arrangement. I would use ten thousand dollars to buy his shit, he would ask one of his goons or whatever to cover my ass.

But he was too caught up in his little 'who are you and how did you get my number?leave me alone or I'll kill you' act to actually do what he was meant to do; cover my ass.

What was I to do? Lose my job, and lose my fiancé? She wouldn't have stayed with me if she knew I was taking unknown pills from a masked stranger I had met in the street after a work dinner on top of me already drinking, I knew that much.

She was already slipping from my fingertips; I could feel it, and I could see it. I was meant to be legalizing our union in only a few months, officially making her my wife. I couldn't have picked anyone more suited to be my wife. She took the abuse I handed to her, and in her twisted little mind, turned it into affection. She craved it. She would pretend to be so torn up about me coming home drunk, or getting into the car with a bottle in my hand, but in reality, she loved it. She had fallen in love with me knowing my mistress was alcohol, and she would love me just the same if it stayed that way. She acted so innocent, like she didn't know that I was the way I was.

Quite the Grammy-award winning actress she could be. The tears had looked so real at first, even to me. Realization hit me like a truck; she wouldn't love me if I was sober. All she had known was the belligerent me. She didn't know who sober Henry was, and she most likely never would. I lived for the bottle, and would die by the bottle, and she fucking knew that.

All those nights she begged me to get sober were breaths she wasted in vain, and I knew that she knew that. She needed someone to hate besides herself, and I gave her the perfect opportunity. Even after her oasis of love had dried up, she stayed. Where would she go? I controlled the money. I controlled the vehicle. I owned the house. I owned her.

Honestly, I didn't really care if she loved or hated me. Love and hate are only different sides of the same coin, and knowing I had the power to turn it was all I needed. One good day out on the town, and she'd be eating from my hand. One night locked in an isolated bedroom, she'd be praying to a God that surely wasn't listening to be rid of me.

She was simultaneously my everything, my whole world, and my damnation, my hate for existing. Some days I felt lucky that I was the one able to marry her, but other days, I wanted to get in my car with some random whore and blow my entire bank account in some unknown city, never to come home.

And sometimes, I did.

I'd disappear for days on end, never telling her where I was going or who I was with. It was freeing to be away from her. Her emotions were suffocating, and the way she looked at me churned my stomach. She looked at me with such a love, yet an even stronger disdain.