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Chapter 2

I awoke in the morning, finding myself laid back on the couch. My laptop was still sitting on my lap, the screen black. I must have fallen asleep here… Memories of the previous night racked through my brain as my head throbbed. Must have been from where he slammed it against the wall…

My heart dropped as I wondered if he would come back today. I could just hope that he never returned, and everything would just be a funny memory. Well, not very funny since I nearly died. Suddenly, my phone vibrated causing me to jump. Paranoia to the extreme. I took it out of my pocket, seeing it was Emmy. I sighed, answering the phone.

"Hello?" I whispered, groggily.

"Stephanie why didn't you answer? I called three times!" she growled into the phone.

"I'm sorry, I was sleeping," I murmured.

"…At four in the afternoon? That's new," she chuckled.

"Mhmm." I rubbed my eyes, walking into the kitchen. More coffee. I felt like a zombie.

"I was watching the news. Five more killings took place last night, and they were closer to your home. Please be careful, Stephanie," she whispered, fear leaking through her voice.

I let out a sigh. She shouldn't be worried. Not anymore that is. Then again, he could always come back… I mentally shivered at the thought.

"Don't worry, Emmy, I'll be fine. You just have fun with Darren, alright?"

She giggled into the phone. "Okay. I'll talk to you later."

"Goodbye," I replied, hanging up the phone.

I sighed, sitting back down on the couch, coffee in hand. I turned on my laptop, prepared to start again. It was time for some work.

"You gonna make me some of that?"

I jumped, nearly spilling my coffee. My heartbeat went ramped as I tried to catch my breath. I turned to face Jeff. He was leaning against the wall, a smug grin on his face. Blood stains now covered his hoodie.

"Calm down," he sighed. He reached into his hoodie pocket, pulling out his knife. He stuck it into the wall, then walked forward. "That's not really comforting, since I can easily kill you with my bare hands in many different ways." He let out a psychotic laugh. "Although I don't intend to."

"What are you doing here," I spat, slamming my laptop.

"I'm hungry." That was all he said.

"I take it you want food," I grumbled.

"That's why I said I was hungry." He stared at me, his eyes quite disturbing. "Care to fix a serial killer a meal?"

"Not really," I sighed.

"You really wanna piss me off?" he laughed. I couldn't tell whether it was a statement or question. Either way, it was enough to haul my ass up off the couch. "I see you haven't fixed the window yet. It's going to snow later, so I'd get on that if I were you."

"Shouldn't you be the one to do that since you broke it?" I grumbled, too low for him to hear. "Are you going to pester me for the rest of my life?" I asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Damn you ask a lot of questions," he murmured.

"I don't know why, to be honest. You never answer any of them," I replied, opening the refrigerator.

All he did as a reply was laugh. I quickly fixed him a sandwich, hating it. He nearly killed me and now I was making him food! Then again, I really didn't want to piss him off.

"Here," I murmured, handing it to him.

His etched smile grew larger and he dug in. I walked back, sitting on the couch. I hugged my knees to my chest, my heart thumping hard in my chest. He said he didn't intend on harming me. But… he was a psychotic killer that was at the moment eating a sandwich in my living room!

"You can calm down already," he mocked, sitting down in the chair adjacent to the couch. He finished his sandwich, appreciatively licking his lips.

"Why are you here?" I asked again. I know he didn't just come because he was hungry.

"Because I can."

I glared at him, anger rising inside of me. "Well I don't want you here. I need to work. Go play with your killer friends or whatever and let me work."

He laughed, shaking his head. "You mean Ben, Jack and the rest of them? Nah, I don't feel like it. They get on my nerves most of the time." My heart stopped. So they're real too? I felt like I was about to faint. My snarky remark wasn't meant literally. "So, Stephanie," he said, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Entertain me."

"Entertain you?" I scoffed, laughing a bit.

"Yeah."

"Why don't you go out and kill more people. That seems to sickly entertain you enough. You don't need a boring person like me to do it." I rolled my eyes.

"Not yet. I'll do that later when its dark." He leaned back in the chair, looking around. "So you live alone?"

"Yep."

"Where's your family?" he asked, confused.

"My sister and her husband are moving today; they lived relatively close to here. My parents died when me and my sister were younger."

He nodded. "That's too bad."

"Yeah." Why was a killer asking about my life? What the hell was even going on? "I suppose you know what that kind of loss is like, losing your parents and your brother and all. Then again, you were the one too do it. Hmm… guess you actually don't," I retorted.

He stared at me, his eyes narrowing. His mouth turned down with anger, even though the cuts still made him look like he was smiling. He shot up, his hand instantly gripping around my throat. A shocked squeak flew through my lips as his grip got tighter until I found it hard to breathe.

"Apparently you forgot who you were talking to," he snarled. My hands clawed at his, trying to unlatch it from my throat. "I don't feel the need to kill you. But that doesn't mean I wont," he growled.

Water pooled in my eyes as I stared at him, gasping for breath. Angrily, he released me, stalking back over to the chair. Slumping down, he angrily looked over at me.

"I'm sorry," I breathed, rubbing my throat. A couple of the tears streaked down my face. This was just too much…

He sighed, shaking his head. He murmured something under his breath that I didn't quite catch.

"So let me put this bluntly," he said, standing. "I need a place to hideout, not to mention food. I'll be staying here." His smile grew in size as my mouth dropped.

"No! That is out of the question," I growled, standing as he did.

"I could just kill you and stay here anyway. Or you can just act like you have a roommate and shut the fuck up," he replied, crossing his arms.

"I'm not having a killer live in my home! I like being alone, I need the solitude to write! You're going to be an inconvenience and irritating non the less."

"It's not really your choice," he chuckled, darkly. "I have the upper hand and you know it. I just need a place to sleep and eat."

"I'm sure you can find some fan girl that would be delighted to have you stay with them," I replied, my voice snarky.

He rolled his eyes. "You don't know how fucking irritating it is when I'm about to kill a girl and they get all excited, trying to hug me and shit. They get one nasty surprise," he laughed.

"That's real nice." I rolled my eyes.

"Just get over it and live with it, Stephanie. I'll be leaving soon, anyway. I can't stay in the same spot for too long without notice anyway." I huffed, sitting back down. There was no way to win. "I have to go get my stuff. I'll be back later… I'll give you some time to get used to the idea," he chuckled with a smirk broad on his face. He walked to the window, yanking his knife back out of the wall as he exited.

A serial killer was going to live in my home? I was going to be sick. Why must this happen? I thought I had been fortunate to have been spared. But now I'm second guessing it. He was going to treat me like a slave, making him food and providing him shelter. This just wasn't right! But who was I kidding? I was too terrified of the man to rebel against him. I was just going to mind my own, and try to act like a psychopath wasn't living in my home.

For the rest of the day, I tried to force myself to forget. First, I fixed the window. Then, for the rest of the day I just wrote. It was the only way I could remain calm. Every time my mind would drift I would just end up shaking with fear or anger. At dusk, there was a knock on the door. Sweat dewed on the back of my neck, as what I had anticipated all day had arrived. I walked over to the door, pulling it open.

"At least you had the decency to knock this-" I paused, seeing it was not Jeff. A police officer stood there, his arms crossed. "time…" I finished, my voice fading away. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else. Can I help you, officer?" I asked.

"Sorry to bother you miss, but would just wanted to inform everyone to stay in doors as much as possible, and to avoid walking around outside at night. There has been a rather large number of killings in this area recently, and we wanted to spread the word so everyone remains as safe as possible."

"Oh, alright. Thank you officer, and I will," I smiled, nodding.

He returned the smile, the crows feet by his eyes becoming more pronounced. I shut the door, walking back into the living room. I hadn't taken two steps before a hand was clamped over my mouth.

"You bitch," Jeff growled, his voice beyond angry. Before I could respond, he threw me against the wall. "I thought I told you not to call the cops," he snarled his mouth at my ear.

"I didn't," I cried, it muffled due to his hand that was still clamped over my mouth. He moved it slightly, so I could speak clearly.

"Don't lie to me," he yelled, his eyes penetrating through me. "I saw the cop car out front! And you were just walking away from the door after talking with one! Killing you will be most pleasant, even though I'm going to have to be on the run again."

"But Jeff, I didn't," I cried, tears streaking down my face. I felt his knife lay against my throat. "The cops were going around telling people to stay in and to not walk around at night due to all of the killings in this area! Killings caused by you! I didn't do anything," I frantically said, my life feeling so fragile right now. He paused, pursing his lips. Then, he leaned back, taking his knife with him.

"Oh." That was all he said.

The anger in me rose as I quickly wiped my cheeks. I shoved past him over to the couch.

"You need to work on your anger issues," I growled, turning my computer back on. "So impulsive and quick to accuse. Just calm down," I sighed.

"Yeah, um… I guess I was quick to assume on that. But can you blame me?" he asked with a chuckle. "I haven't trusted anyone in a long time. Then again, I'm not too worried. If you had called the cops, I would have killed you and been out before they could have found me. Hell, even if there's a sneak attack I'd win."

He sure was cocky. I rolled my eyes. I was about to reply, then thought against it. He was calm now, and I didn't need to make him angry again.

"How'd you get in here?" I asked, looking over and seeing the window wasn't broken again.

"You left the door unlocked. I had already come in and set my stuff in your room when the door knocked."

"Oh…" I replied. That wasn't disturbing at all.

"So what are ya writing?" he asked, leaning back in the chair.

"A book," I replied, trying to focus. He was going to be such a distraction.

"About?" he pushed, his lips a solid line. I had warned him I'd be boring…

I sighed, looking over at him. "I don't want to talk about it with anyone until I'm finished," I hissed.

"Not even a brief outline on what it's about?" he laughed. I shook my head. "Oh, whatever. I'm just going to watch TV then," he murmured. He flipped the TV on, turning it to the news. "Hey look, it's a story about me!" he said, overjoyed.

I turned, looking over at the screen. And sure enough, he was right.

"A killing spree that this town hasn't seen in years is running ramped, the killer still unknown. So far making a total of twelve kills in the past two days, and not appearing to stop just yet. The only details on the killer is that he wears a white hoodie and dark pants. That was all that was seen from one lone witness who hid in the shadows while watching one of the killings take place. Whoever this man may be, and whatever his motive, he should be avoided at all costs. If you have any information concerning-"

Jeff broke into a fit of laughter, interrupting her. "They've never been able to find me," he grinned, proud of himself. "And they never will. I can't believe some punk saw me and I didn't notice him! That sort of pisses me off, but oh well."

I stared at him, my eyebrows furrowed. He sure was a strange person. But once again, he's a serial killer. I sighed, returning to my computer screen. For the rest of the night, Jeff watched TV while I laid on the couch typing. Before I knew it, I drifted to sleep, seeming unaware that a psychopath was sitting awake, his eyes transfixed on me.

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