For All Of Eternity (A Sally Creepypasta Fanfiction)

Chapter 38 - Chaos

A whole day Sally spent sitting in the center of the room, her mind replaying the recent events over and over.
"You're a sick, corrupted monster!" Samantha's voice that dripped with enmity shot through Sally's mind. "You're a demon! A demon!"
Is what Samantha said true? Is Sally a demon?
Sick and corrupted, maybe, but a demon?
Once again, the same question appeared.
What is she?
She's obviously no longer human. She's immortal, undead, has a strange power to teleport wherever she desired, has a strange strength, consumed by despair, bloodlust, anger...
Monster.
Again, that word monster popped up in her head. What she's becoming, what she is, isn't normal. She's a monstrosity, an abomination, the definition of 'different'.
But she remembered how Malcolm had looked at her.
He never looked at her as if she were a monster, he never looked at her with indifference, despite all that he'd seen her do. He had accepted her, agreed to still be her friend.
But now he's gone, just as everything that she had ever cared for had done.
Sally half expected more tears to swell within her eyes, but none came. Had she cried all the tears she had? What is this that she's feeling? Is there such a name for this emptiness, this numbness that has recently consumed her entire being? Is there a name for what she is? Is there a name for this world she was born into? If so, she wants to know. Then she wants to know the reason as to why she's still here, forced to endure this torment.
She wants to know why she must forever suffer in this world, forever be a part of this hell.
Now she understood what Clockwork was saying; telling her that she'd be stuck with the torment forever.
Sally blinked and rose from her foggy, dark trance when she heard that familiar melody play behind her.
Once she recognized the tune, she immediately realized exactly who could possibly be in this same room.
Slowly, Sally managed to turn her head and she saw who she expected. Laughing Jack is standing in the corner of the room, holding that same musical box in his hand and his black lips curled into a wicked grin. Sally thought she broke that box?
"Hello again, Sally," he greeted.
Sally didn't say anything. What is there to say?
Laughing Jack took a few steps toward her, but Sally didn't react to him at all.
"Your eyes reveal a deep sorrow. Much pain and loneliness," he said, his head tilting as he looked deeper into her eyes. Sally winced a bit when he spoke of how she felt.
"I'm curious, little Sally. What is your story?" He asked, his grin never ceasing.
Her story?
She stared up at him, not knowing what to say, nor can she make her voice work.
Sally listened to the melody of Pop Goes the Weasel as her emotions rammed through her like waves of an ocean, a strong current pulling her away, washing away everything she has and leaving her to tumble through the cold, rough waves.
What does she have? To Sally, it seems as if everything she had is gone. She has nothing left.
Then what exactly is being taken away from her? Why does she feel as if she's still losing something?
"Your humanity is weakening," Jack spoke up, causing Sally to blink in surprise. "It's fading away, leaving behind who you really are."
It's as if he's reading her mind. His eyes looked into hers so intensely, she wanted to look away, but she couldn't.
Her humanity? Is that what she feels is slipping away?
Sally slowly stood with shaky legs and her head hung, so her gaze only saw the floor. She felt the familiar feel of her hair falling around her face, but it was smooth and soft, since she had took a shower the day before. The drizzle of blood dripping down her forehead, then her face, was also familiar.
"Humanity is a part of your soul," Laughing Jack explained. "When your body becomes immortal, your soul becomes angry. It will resist and rebel, it will writhe and try to squeeze itself out of you. No soul will stand immortality, not for long. It's stubborn and determined to move forward with its natural cycle. But of course, since you're immortal, you can't die, so then your soul can't ever be free. You have to accept it sooner or later. Your humanity is a huge part of that determination to escape...so, to accept immortality, you have to let go of humanity."
Sally's lips parted so she can speak.
"What...am I?" She whispered.
Laughing Jack tilted his head a bit as he responded. "Does it really matter what you are? Does it matter who you are? Because it doesn't, not in this world."
Sally managed to lift her head and her dulled eyes met his gaze. "What do you mean?"
Jack's grin widened to reveal his sharp teeth. "It doesn't matter who or what you are in this world. Everyone seems to judge you for what you do, how you do it. That's why the world is against us, because we do what they don't. It doesn't matter who we are, because if you do something that the rest of the world doesn't agree with, they don't accept us. You see? Another reason we, the 'freaks', need to change how they think."
Sally understood what Jack is saying. The world can go against you, no matter who or what you are.
"I want to see a world where it doesn't matter what you do, everyone just accepts it. There must be a world where who you are is important," Jack added, his gaze shifting to the window. "'It is a cruel world', they say. Well, then why can't we make it better?"
Jack looked back at Sally. "Wouldn't you agree, little Sally?"
Sally isn't sure what to say. It sounds nice, though, to live in a world where it doesn't matter what you do, who you are is important. A world where everyone is accepted.
A world that wouldn't take away the things she loves.
"Oh, and Sally," Laughing Jack started, now walking over to her.
She stiffened a bit, but then he bent down to meet her gaze.
"Happy birthday."

--

"Where'd Sal go this time?" Hoodie asked Masky as they walked through the woods.
Masky shrugged. "I dunno. Ben didn't tell us where she went."
They continued on in silence, their thoughts roaming elsewhere.
That was until Hoodie had a thought. "Maybe she's at her house?"
Masky shrugged. "Wouldn't be surprised."
"Wanna check it out?"
"Sure, there's nothin' else to do anyway."
"Well, Jack did say to keep an eye on Jeff."
Masky snickered. "Ah, Jeff'll be fine. Jack just went out to get some pain relievers so Jeff would stop groaning. I'm sure Jeff will be fine without us for a few minutes."

--

Jeff sighed heavily as he awoke.
His gaze, weakened with exhaustion and pain, shifted over to his bottle of beer that's sitting on the coffee table near the couch, the one he requested for before passing out a few hours ago.
He managed to lift his hand and reach out towards it, but his arm is unfortunately not long enough. His finger managed to graze the dark glass of the bottle, but he can't grab it.
He groaned and attempted to sit up, but agony immediately hammered him back down onto his back and he huffed.
Jeff looked around and noticed that no one is here, despite the fact that Jack specifically ordered Masky and Hoodie to keep an eye on Jeff, although Jeff protests; he can take care of himself. But now he can't even reach his desired alcohol. And no one is here to hand it to him.
"Ugh...those bastards," Jeff muttered as he draped his bruised arm over his eyes as he tried to ignore his massive headache.
It was peaceful for a few minutes and Jeff found himself drifting into sleep when he heard a noise.
He snapped out of his exhausted state and sharpened his hearing, waiting for another sound.
He recognized the noise as the back door opening, but not closing. Now there are light footsteps.
Footsteps that are familiar, but not familiar enough for him to know who it is.
Jeff kept his arm over his eyes, pretending to be asleep, so whoever the hell it is would hopefully leave him alone.
The footsteps stopped in the doorway of the room, then a voice spoke up.
"Well, well. Look at what we have here."
Oh, fuck.
Jeff groaned once more as he recognized the voice, then he moved his arm from his face and reached for his knife, but it's beside his beer bottle, also out of his reach.
"Ugh, it's you." He muttered as he saw Jane walk around the couch, now in his line of sight.
Her lips, always painted with black lipstick, are pulled into a smug smirk. "Wow, Jeff. You seem different. What, someone finally kicked your psychotic ass?"
He managed to roll his eyes, ignoring the fact that it only made his headache worse.
"No," he said bluntly with an apathetic tone, but then his eyes shifted back to his knife. Well, this sure won't be fun. For him, at least.
Jane noticed his gaze and saw his knife, then her smirk widened. "Can't even reach your weapon? You really are helpless."
"Go to hell," he muttered through bared teeth. "And do me a favor and hand me the bottle."
"Oh, this?" She asked, grabbing the beer bottle and lifting it, then shook it a bit to see how much remained. "Sure thing, Jeffery."
He growled when he heard the playful tone in her voice and noticed her expression.
That's when she brought the bottle to her lips and gulped down the remaining beer. When she was done, she let out a long exhale and she smirked sadistically at Jeff, who glared at her.
"Here you go," Jane tossed the empty bottle to Jeff and it landed on his stomach, bringing a sharp pain that made him flinch. He gritted his teeth as he grabbed the bottle and threw it forcefully at her, but she dodged gracefully with a laugh. The bottle shattered on the floor not too far behind Jane.
"Bitch," Jeff snarled, then he relaxed his neck muscles by letting his head fall back onto the old pillow underneath it.
"What? You said you wanted the bottle," Jane snarked and sneered at him.
Smartass.
"You should know how lucky you are right now," Jeff glared at her. "If I weren't in this condition, you'd be dead right where you're standing."
"Oh, really?" She mused, raising an eyebrow, but then she looked back at Jeff's knife. "You really can't do anything right now."
Jeff kept silent, although she's right. There's no way he'd give her the satisfaction of admitting it, though.
Jane then reached down and lifted his knife, now examining it, as if she were counting the crusty blood stains on the partially rusted blade.
Then her gaze met Jeff's as her lips stretched into a wicked smile and her expression darkened.
Jeff resisted the urge to groan again once he realized what she was about to do.
She walked over to his side with a taunting grace, twirling the blade within her long fingers, her eyes not leaving his.
"Well, then." Jane said, now standing over him, gripping tightly onto his knife as he glared back up at her. "Let's finally settle this, shall we?"