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Description
It itches sometimes.

Starting at my toes, like a parasite.
It itches.

A burning, fiery crawling itch that climbs up my calves, seeping into my bones and making my legs shake. The feeling stalks up my stomach and over my collarbones, invading my mouth and mind. And after agonizing hours in bed, weeping silently and letting the pain set in, the feeling consumes my heart and eats its way out, like an anxious cavern.

Warm, dancing rays of late afternoon sunlight land on my shoulders, warming my already overheated body with their lustrous appearance. Mud slides down my arm as I slap another coat of the thick clay onto the wall.

I guess I’ve had no time for anything but working on my house these past few days.
After Jack left the house I guess I went into a bit of a trance. Ended up cleaning the entire house.

No food, no water. Just cleaning away the memories.

The walls have been wiped clean, the cushions on the couch have been scrubbed. Bags upon bags of trash and little things have been loaded into the back of my truck and dumped off. Hell, I even cleaned out the inside of the truck itself. It's all just never enough, though. The itching, burning anxiety remains ever present.
There were so many items left, from both my grandparents and Jack himself. Of course, my grandparents left behind normal things: books, records, photos, tools, ect. And these things I already knew about. But Jack left behind strange tokens, literally and metaphorically. Sometimes I found little dollar-like coins with complex lines and dots coating the slightly warped and dirty metal. Other times I found colored glass bottles filled with shiny little pebbles, the insides of the bottles smelled of roses. And I even found drawings, odd, little doodles of people and body parts. The most detailed of these pictures being that of an eye, which seemed almost familiar.
The worst things I found were the bandages.
It had never occurred to me that I hadn’t bandaged Eyeless Jack’s arms and legs after the incident. Seems rather strange considering he soaked in the moat with the barbed wire for so long. But judging by the bandages and cut up fishing wire found under the bed in the demon’s room, I never needed to. Of course I burned the black ink-stained cloths, no point in keeping them. However, I did keep all the trinkets left behind, I used up one afternoon by carrying each and every little thing up to my grandparents’ old room.

Letting my feet clunk down the old rusty ladder, I place my empty bucket onto the ground and make my way over to the shed. A new stone pathway decorates my path, letting me clunk across the meticulously cleaned yard without disrupting the plants. I can feel my bones creak and ache as I walk along. Rest has been a fleeting comfort for my tired eyes. Even my shoes seem to protest the sudden movement as I drag my overworked body into the small metal building.
The shed is unnaturally organized as I place the bucket inside. Each cord is carefully wrapped and placed on separate hooks, every tool is labelled and placed in outlined places. Even the floors have been mopped repeatedly. It almost looks like I had never used the place before. Turning, I close and lock the shed, patting my pocket and brushing a stray strand of filthy (h/c) hair out of my face. A long, curved path leads around the house and my boots thud loudly against the concrete as I stomp off toward the gate. As the view of the beautiful backyard morphs into the grisly sight of the front yard and gate I note the macabre overuse of skulls and barbed wire.
It was rather obvious that Jack’s existence and past indicated that there were far more monsters than I had recently thought. So as a precaution I updated my gate. Sharpened branches and barbed wire has been woven in the metal bars, even bones and animal skulls have been added to the gate to ward off other possible “visitors”. So far, it seems to have worked. I take great caution when approaching, mostly out of habit, my feet thudding softly against the thick pathway. A soft sniffle shakes my lips as a stray tear slides down my chapped cheek and lands on my shoulder. Salty tears and sweat seem to mix on my mud-stained features as I wrap one hand around the metal gate, giving it a few tugs before turning and walking back to the house.

“Quite the view, huh?”

A soft, almost nonexistent voice hums from directly behind me; however, upon turning around, I see nothing in the forest beyond. I disregard the noise, turning back to the house and walking hesitantly toward it.
My muddy boots slide off with a dull slurping noise and land with a thunk on the pristine tile floor in the front entryway. Exhaustion tugs at my back and makes me yawn loudly, a heavy feeling pulls at my eyelids, and a deep longing for some water scrapes my throat. I thud toward the kitchen, huffing softly and reaching out for the cabinet.
“Wow, you have shitty manners. First you ignore me, then you don’t invite me in?”
I spin around in place, scanning the room for a sign of life. Nothing but furniture bathed in early evening light and slightly muddy footprints trailing from behind me.
Eventually, I bring up the courage to speak “Hello!? Show yourself!” My voice echoes down the halls, but no sound responds. My heartbeat quickens, fear melts down my throat and leaves me with the urge to run. “You’re not ready to see me, (y/n)” The thing replies, its soft, feminine voice speaking with almost mocking sympathy. “Who are you?” I call back, shivering and stepping away.
“A friend of an enemy. I suppose.” The woman drawls, “I wouldn't be so calloused, small one.” I scan the dark hallway for any sign of life, wondering if the monster could be hiding in the shadows.
“I sense danger in your future, (y/n). Don’t go into the woods. Not until it rains.” The woman thing hums, “You’ll hate me when it happens, but it will all work in the end, trust me.” Confusion and fear wraps around me as soft footsteps begin echoing around the kitchen, causing me to back away even more. The steps get louder, the noise from whatever it is’ feet clacking and thumping down unnaturally around the house fills the space.

Then, almost as fast as it all came, it went.

Silence falls over the house, coating my slightly sweaty body with a new layer of nervousness.

Utter nothingness falls over me, making my exhausted body, this makes my knees tremble and give way beneath me. Falling to the floor with a soft thunk, my body goes limp. Utter tiredness consumes my being and I end up slowly drifting off. It was surprisingly comfortable on the floor, and even the soft footsteps were like a lullaby to me. A rhythmic, soft lullaby that came with the smell of patchouli and a cool sensation across my body. So cool...So soft. Fabric of some form lays across me, the thick smell of flowers washing over me. The sensation of the cloth numbs my body, calming the burning sensation and making the pain fade away with the oncoming sleepiness. Darkness finally consumes my mind as a large hand pets my cheek, pulling the soft old hoodie closer over my shoulder.