It is an interesting development, as they say, when things change in a way you didn't expect. I didn't expect to be standing here again, in front of my mother's grave. I didn't have flowers this time, though. Just tears. I knelt in front of her headstone and hugged it.

"It happened again today, Mama…" I whispered into the marble. "He tried to throw out my dresses. He got mad when I locked the chest and the closet. He even tried to hit me again, but I ran away." I choked out a sob. It hasn't even been four months since my mother passed away, and my step-father has completely changed from the nice man my Mama fell in love with when I was younger. He became so cruel; constantly yelling at me, throwing insults at me and hitting me. It hurts so much. Oh Mama….

I sat in the cemetery for a long time. I shivered into my jacket; winter was coming fast, and though it was late October, there were already Snow Advisory warnings out. It was also getting dark. I knew Papa wouldn't be home tonight; he often spent his nights out at the bar. He has been drinking heavily since Mama died. I suppose it's one way to rid of your sorrows. He never drank when Mama was alive, and rarely ever yelled. He was sweet and patient with me and Mama over the years. He even entertained our hobby of buying and making plush animals. Mama loved them and so did I. She would even dress me up as a doll sometimes, which has turned me into the Lolita that I am today. That was the most recent topic of papa's anger: my dresses. He thinks that I should grow up and start dressing up like the twenty-two year old that I am and not like a child. I loved dressing this way, it made me and Mama so happy. I wasn't going to lose the last happy part of me that made up a big part of who I am.

I walked along the cemetery path. It was cold and quiet; the only sound that was heard were my boots against the stone path. I stopped after a few moments. It was a faint sound, but I heard the sound of sobbing coming from one of the graves. Curiosity getting the better of me, I followed the sound to a grave that was precariously placed underneath a willow tree on a small incline. When I reached the top of the incline, I saw a man kneeling in front of the grave. He was crouched over, his thin yet solid frame shook with each sob. He was wearing a grayish-white hoodie and faded black jeans. As I came closer I saw a near empty vodka bottle in his hand. Another one trying to rid his sorrows, I thought as I neared him. His sobbing hitched only for a moment, as if to acknowledge my presence, and then continued softly. I crouched next to him, keeping my knees together, since I was wearing a dress. I couldn't see his face; it was veiled by long lanky black hair. I looked at the headstone. It was partially covered in moss and I couldn't make out the whole name: …U WOODS. I looked back at the sobbing man, and felt a strange feeling that I knew him from somewhere. However, I can't imagine where from. I sighed softly and took my handkerchief out from my pocket. I held it out to the man, who didn't acknowledge it in the slightest. I pulled my hand back as I looked at the headstone again.

"…Was this person important to you?" I asked softly.

"Yes," He said with a deep, rough and raspy voice. The sound of it sent shivers throughout my body and made me feel so cold.

"It'll be okay," I said softly, almost more to myself than to the man. "My Mama used to tell me that the ones we love are never truly gone as long as they are remembered with love."

The man's sobbing slowly began to calm and turn into soft laughter. I shivered again.

"… That's a beautiful sentiment. Thank you..." he spoke softly. He was still laughing softly. It made me a little nervous, but he was drunk so I dismissed the feeling.

"Do you need a ride home? I'll be more than happy to give you a lift." I said, stifling a yawn behind my hand.

"Tired? Have you had trouble sleeping?" he asked, moving his hand into his hoodie pocket.

"Hm… yeah just a little bit. My nights have been rather…. Rough." I said, rubbing my neck. Why would he ask about something like that?

"Well then, maybe you need to-" he said roughly, turning towards me brandishing a knife. "GO TO SLEEP!" My eyes widened in fear as I saw his face: extremely white skin littered with mildly puckered skin marks like old burns. His lips were red and he had a Chelsea smile carved into his cheeks, and his eyes were pale and ringed with black circles. He smiled menacingly and drunkenly, and I could see his eyes were quickly becoming out of focus as the alcohol began to take its toll. He moved, perhaps a little too quickly, to slice me. I fell back onto my butt, dodging him. Unfortunately, he fell forward as I fell back, his face and upper body landing on my breasts and torso.

I sat there in complete and utter shock while this man, this murderer, laid on me in an unconscious drunken stupor. Oh my god! I thought fervently. This is the man who's been behind the recent murders in town! I've read about him in the news and the stories online… he's the notorious "Jeff the Killer" everyone has been talking about! I looked down at the drunken murderer who was sleeping on my lap. He looked so vulnerable. And in so much pain. What am I going to do?

"Hey," I said softly, propping him up a little. He groaned in response. Well, he's still alive. I carefully got us both up, laying his arm around my shoulder and wrapped my arm around his waist. He leaned on me heavily, his upper body drooping over on my shoulders. I was mildly surprised by how much taller he is compared to me. My head seemed to reach the middle of his chest. He must just be about a foot or so taller than me. I dragged him to my car quickly, thankful that it was getting dark and the street was empty. I took my keys out of my jacket pocket, unlocked my Kia Soul, and threw him into the back of my car.