Another Drop Left in the Jar

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I lay there in my bed. Staring. Staring at the jar. The jar so randomly placed on the desk. The jar of blood.

It hadn't seemed a good idea to let it out of my sight. The blood was the true mystery, why was it there? Who's blood was it? What did it mean? All questions they'd want to know the answer to. They. They who don't understand.

It all was so sudden. Thirst. Hunger. Pain. All of it. All that they don't feel. I do.

The man was so polite. I only asked him what he wanted. He never once acted rude, or mean, or strange, or any other creepy cliches.

I walked up to him,

"Who are you?" I asked. "Why are you here?" I asked.

Honestly, I don't recall him ever even speaking. All I know is, I knew what he meant. The jar was empty at first, and it remained that way for some time.

I ran low on food, so I went to the grocery store to get some more.

The meat I got was fresh, juicy, I cooked it just right. There was always blood, too much. I began to keep it in the jar, seeing as I didn't like the taste.

Why did any of this happen? I don't know.

All I know is... I'm hungry.

I'm sorry if you know me, my name is Jack.

I'm so sorry.

I have to do what I have to do.

If you see me, or him.

Tell us to go away.

Please.