{Jack's POV}

            Fear.

            Panic.

            Terror.

            Despair.

            Hopelessness.

           Every awful emotion from his captivity flooded Jack as he sat hunched high in the tree, face buried in his arms as he hugged his knees. His mind was blank yet racing at the same time. A shudder ran down his spine as he recalled the last movie he watched with [Name], the one about the monster and the girl it held prisoner. That scene in the dungeon had brought back so many memories, all bad.

            Inhaling sharply, Jack hugged his knees more tightly and squeezed his eyes shut. It was over, he didn't have to worry about it anymore. Buddy was dead. Dead, dead, dead. There was no way that man was still alive, Jack knew because he'd cleaned the corpse of every internal organ. Yet still he worried, still he panicked. Still those memories haunted him whenever he closed his eyes, making it hard to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. Don't think about it, he told himself, gritting his teeth. Stop thinking about it.

            And yet, he couldn't.

            All he could see whenever he closed his eyes was that cruel smile, full of sadistic glee...

{Reader's POV}

            I don't know why I logged onto Buddy's account again. After all, last time had ended with me vomiting, but today I felt like I had to. I'd given Jack another panic attack, and I felt like the first step for me to help was to know exactly what happened to him. Of course, I still had no idea why I wanted to help him so much, though. I had nothing to do with what Buddy did to him, and the guy's tried to kill me multiple times. But that didn't stop me before.

          I picked up at the first photo after Jack was fed the kidney. Blood covered his mouth and strings of flesh clung to his teeth, visible as he bore his teeth at the camera in a scowl. A few photos later his mask was finally placed back on his face for the first time since the whole ordeal began. His shoulders were visibly slumped at that point, whether that was from exhaustion or relief wasn't clear. After the whole feeding ordeal, Buddy gave him a "break" for the rest of the week, and there were barely any photos.

           Skip to the middle of week three. There was a rapid-fire set of Buddy injecting Jack with some mysterious liquid. Due to his restraints Jack couldn't avoid the needle and quickly fell unconscious, and the next shot showed him awake with a piece of tape over his mouth. Safe from being bitten, Buddy began taking close-ups of Jack's eyes, or lack of them. There had to be dozens of those photos, Jack squinting as Buddy shined a flashlight into his sockets to showcase their emptiness. In one Buddy actually stuck his fingers into one to lift the eyelids, while the other eye was squeezed shut and his expression was visibly scrunched with pain.

           Looking at the photos of his "eyes" felt so wrong, and after a couple more I just skipped the remaining thumbnails until I finally saw the familiar navy blue of Jack's mask. After that, most of the photos were just rapid-fire successions of Jack eating, most of which I skipped. Every now and then Buddy would feed him things other than organs, always ending in Jack vomiting. Disgust filled me at each one, and I scrolled past them only to stop as I noticed a different thumbnail mixed in with the rest.

           Peachy skin filled the thumbnail, contrasting sharply against the rest of the relatively dark-colored photos. Curiosity piqued, I clicked it and it enlarged, revealing it to be a photo of Buddy's hand. Several sharp puncture marks lined the side of his palm, and as I stared I realized that it was a bite. At some point he'd slipped up and given Jack a chance to bite him. A strange sense of satisfaction filled me at the sight after seeing so many horrific images. Buddy had tormented him so much, it felt good to know Jack managed to get back at him. However, as soon as I saw the next few photos my good feelings faded.

            This act would not go unpunished, though. The next photo showed Jack in a much worse position than before. His mask was discarded, his eyes wrapped in a blindfold and duct tape around his mouth. Bulky headphones covered his ears, and as I noticed some weird strip on his nose I realized what Buddy had done: he'd cut off all of Jack's senses. Horrified, I felt numb and absently clicked the arrow key without thinking, bringing up the next photo. Jack was still bound, but he wasn't alone: Buddy was next to him.

            A giant smile was plastered on Buddy's face as he faced the camera, crouching next to Jack. He had a hand on Jack's head, ruffling his hair while Jack seemed to recoil from his touch. I swore I could see more of his "tears" streaming from under his blindfold, his posture showcasing the raw fear he felt from Buddy's touch. However, what held my attention was Buddy's smile. A shudder ran down my spine as I stared at it, his face contorted into the most twisted, sickly sweet smile I'd ever seen. Malevolent glee filled his eyes, sadistic and cold with a childlike excitement that sent chills through me.

            Never had I seen such an evil smile, not even when Jack tormented me for fun. The man in this photo wasn't the Buddy I knew, the one I remembered. His face was the same and so were the clothes, but everything else was just... wrong. My Buddy was warm and loving, a kind father figure who cared about me. This Buddy... This one was, was wrong. Everything about him was wrong. Cruel, evil, malevolent, sadistic, awful, monstrous. This wasn't my Buddy, this was someone else, a monster in human skin.

           And the question was, which was the REAL one?

            And with that thought, I pressed the spacebar and the photo vanished, returning the screen to the file of thumbnails. The next thumbnail was for a video, and I was not in the mood to see that, or any more photos. I'd had enough for one day. I exited the window and logged out, slamming the laptop shut. I didn't care if I slammed it too hard, I just wanted to stop thinking about that. Flopping onto my back, I closed my eyes and sighed, pushing the photos out of my mind as best as I could.

            Eventually I sat up and looked around, only to freeze as my gaze fell upon the dresser. Sitting atop it was the framed photo I'd grabbed when I was packing, showing Buddy's smiling reflection in the mirror behind me as I blew out candles. Staring at it, something inside me snapped. Rage suddenly overcame me and the next thing I knew I was standing over the toilet, my hands shaking with anger as I held the photo above the bowl. Shoulders heaving with a silent fury, I let out an angry yell and tore it in half, ripping each half furiously and violently. Shreds of paper fell into the bowl, each one sending a small ripple as it landed in the water. Questions swirled in my mind the whole time, only making me feel angrier.

            Why did Buddy look so happy in the photos?

           When did he plan to keep Jack as a pet?

           What did Buddy plan to do with him?

            Which Buddy was the real one?

           How much of my life was a lie?

            I had to blank my mind in order to stop, and at that point my knees gave out and I fell, panting heavily. Staring at the shreds of paper floating in the water, I reached out and flushed the toilet, watching them swirl around as they were pulled into the drain. Once they vanished from my sight, my rage finally wore off. Numbness filled me, and only then did I finally notice that tears were rolling down my cheeks.