Avery's pale orbs stared intently on the ceiling, seemingly like stone. No emotion could be pinpointed, no matter how relentlessly another would try to seek. She felt like an empty shell as she laid on the musty couch. A hollow form, containing nothing but a void vacancy within. A dull throb laid within her cheeks, the once warm, liquefied blood now a mere sticky reminder. Her lips dare not move, for she knew if they did, the metallic substance would be released once more, along with an even worse pain. As the previous year passed, she had forgotten what this had felt like. It was like the memories faded away, into the dark abyss of her past, never to be resurfaced. Little did she know that the killer's serrated blade would once again pierce her flesh, splitting over the healed skin which she desperately hid away.

Jeff the Killer was ruthless, unforgiving, and a true monster of a man. He contained zero remorse, caring for no one but himself. He didn't even deserve the title of an anarchist, as he once used. He was a psychotic killer, a sadist, whose only goal was to bring agony to others for his own amusement. The cruel, wicked smile that laid on his face as he sliced her cheeks caused shivers to run down her spine. She was nothing more than his new toy, which he wanted to alter to have the same mindset as him. She refused. No matter how badly he tortured her. How brutally he treated her, she would rebel until the very end. It seemed as though he wished to see that anyone could be altered to be just like him. That fate had brought her right into his grasp. But he was wrong.

She listened as the sound of his heavy boots clomped on the floor. It slowly grew louder, as he entered the room. Her eyes stayed glued to the ceiling, refusing to lock with the killer's pinprick glance. Bile rose in her throat as she heard his raspy chuckle, his footsteps coming to a halt. He seemed to be appraising her, searching for any signs of submission. Even still, she showed nothing. This only seemed to add to the frustration that was continuously building within the killer. He had thought the smile would be the clincher-the one thing that would break her down the most. It did appear he had broke her in some way. Just not the way in which he would have liked.

"Aww is someone feeling under the weather?" the killer sneered, his smile stretching wide across his face. He received no response, not even a blink from the young girl. His anger grew, the corners of his lips falling. If he still possessed his eyelids, his eyes would be narrowing at her right now. Although she wasn't complying, it was making the game all the more pleasurable for him. A challenge. He enjoyed nothing more than blood splatter, and a good challenge. "Not going to talk, hmm? Don't want to disturb the cuts?" he asked, drawing out the s for emphasis. He cackled maliciously, his singed hair lightly brushing against his charred cheeks.

Still, he received no response from the wounded girl. His fists tightly clenched, his milky eyes nearly bulging in their sockets. Blood lust ran through his veins as he fought to control his actions. He could not recall the last time he did not allow himself to unleash his rage onto another. That seemed like ancient history, a time that was so far back in the past that it was better left nonexistent. If she continued to ignore him, he knew he would not be able to hold himself back for long. He had to leave. To quench the undeniable need to spill blood, watching its infatuating scarlet hue bleed out of the gashes he created. To have it splatter, as he forcefully stabbed, it lithely dancing across his faded hoodie and skin. To taste the metallic tang as it sprayed into his mouth while he laughed, the delicious overkill now unrecognizable beneath him.

He was beyond aroused as his thoughts enveloped him, his tongue flicking against his cracked lips. Not paying another thought to his young hostage, he crept out the front door of the cabin, out into the night. He gave little notice to the faint twinkle of the stars above, or the murky grey clouds that nearly consumed the moon. His only thoughts were the blood that he ached to see spilled. The growling voice in his head edged him forward, nearly as impatient as he was to see it. He hadn't been able to enjoy his last kill, due to her interrupting. At that time, however, he didn't know exactly who she was. He still didn't know her name, let alone truthfully care.

His thick, steel toed boots crunched through the woods, giving little consideration as to keeping quiet. He was on a mission, and he refused to subject himself into making little noise. If he came across anyone, it would be to their demise this night. He pulled his hood up over his head, his onyx locks framing his face. His hands were stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie, his fingers anxiously gripping the handle of his knife. He felt the uneasy beat to his heart, the thrill just waiting to be released. It only edged his feet forward even faster. Finally, he reached the edge of the woods, the break just up ahead. The cracks of the twigs beneath his feet came to a stop as he stepped out onto the rough asphalt.

The town was asleep around him, only the dim lights from the streetlamps illuminating the buildings. The pad of his boots was relatively loud, only being accompanied by the chirping music of the crickets. The streets were silent, not a car in sight. The town was well aware of the killer on the loose, no one seeming daring enough to stay out too late. A cocky smile pulled across his lips at these thoughts, as his never blinking eyes trailed the scene. The farther he walked, the more his mind ached. Finally, he saw the houses that lined the streets, just begging for him to break inside. His name nearly shown in bright letters above each one. He'd have to keep it short, though. The cops were just prowling, searching for him. Ready to rid the world of him. He snorted, stopping in the middle of the street.

His pinprick pupils shot from one house to the next, deciding which one to choose. The pale blue one, with the white shingles? Or the older, brick home that looked close to falling down? Or perhaps the white two story with the rocking chairs out front? Decisions, so many decisions. He chuckled beneath his breath, cutting to his right, heading for the brick house. It didn't have a security system, like the two story. Nor did it have a large dog, like the blue house did. His eyes fell away from the chew toy that laid within the blue house's gated yard, and the small home security sign that was wedged between the bushes in front of the two story.

He skated around the side of the brick house, evaluating each window. He tried to pry each open, only finding one that was. As quiet as he could, he shoved the widow open, the cool breeze blowing back the drapes. His eyes chaotically danced around, making sure the room was empty, before stealthily crawling inside. His paranoia grew, not trusting any small sound or noise. Some victims fought back. Not like it was an issue… he just felt like each and every one of them were just waiting for him. The snarling voice within his head snapped at him to continue, growing restless. Continuing forward, Jeff inspecting the room which was nearly empty. This house appeared to be just moved into; the wallpaper peeling from the walls, and half the carpet ripped up. Boxes laid in the corners, containing various items.

Exiting from the room, he carried on down the hallway, pausing at the very end of the hall. A lone man was in the last room, asleep in bed. It was the only room that appeared put together. Jeff's smile ripped into place, his knife slipping from his pocket, into his hand. His footsteps were soundless, as if he were a ghost. Walking around the side of the bed, he got down low, right in the man's face. The blade of his knife was tracing across the man's neck, nicking it slightly in the process. A trail of blood spotted on the surface of his skin, Jeff's tongue twitching with eagerness of the kill.

"Wake up…" Jeff cooed, his voice just a soft as it was bitter. He watched as the man slightly stirred, yet not seeming to notice his presence… yet. "I said WAKE UP!" he nearly screamed, cackling as the man's dark eyes snapped wide open.

The man gasped, his eyes raking over Jeff's intimidating presence. Cold fear ran through him, his jaw loose as his mouth hung open. Jeff's laugh rang through the room, his cut smile ripping slightly around the edges. This was one of his favorite parts. The shock on his victims faces as they witnessed his beautiful face. It must be a better dream than the one they had just been experiencing. That is, until his blade sunk into them. The man began to tremble as his eyes fell upon the large knife that laid in Jeff's clenched hand. The blade appeared so unfriendly, dried blood already coated on it, almost like rust.

"What… what do you want?" the man stuttered, leaning away from the knife against his neck. "Please… just leave me alone! You can have my money, anything, just… just please…" the man cowered, snapping his eyes shut in pure terror.

"Your money?" Jeff snorted, shaking his head. "No, no, no. I don't need money," he grinned, pressing his knife down a little harder. As always, he felt the small amount of disdain over the pitiable weakness each human he came across possessed. How rare was it that he came across one who did not fear him? One that did not cower in his presence, who actually returned each blow he gave. Who didn't act as though their life was truly precious. Well… there was one. And she was now chained up back at the cabin. The only one who stood up to him… is the only one that lived. How ironic.

When Jeff broke away from his thoughts, he noticed the man's dark eyes locked on something to his side. Before he could react, the man shot to the side, tumbling to the floor. The killer was knocked slightly backwards, shaking his head in anger. He let his thoughts get to him, damn it! He had no time to think, now. The man had his cell phone in his shaking hands, viciously trying to call the authorities. Jeff darted forward, tackling the man to the ground, a fierce snarl breaking through his lips. A small yelp squeaked through the man's mouth as his back hit the floor, the breath being knocked out of him. His phone clattered behind him, and within a second, he twisted around, trying to crawl for it.

Jeff's foot stomped on top of the man's back, a strangled cry flying from the man's mouth. His fingers barely brushed the bottom of his phone, before Jeff's knife slammed down, impaling the man's hand to the floor. An earsplitting shriek tumbled from the man as Jeff twisted the knife, grinning cruelly down at him. Yanking his knife back, he picked up the phone before slamming it into the wall. The sound of the impact, the pieces of the phone hitting the floor, and the mans screams of agony all melded together in a vicious cacophony, that Jeff just couldn't help but adore.

"So, you tried to call for help, hmm?" Jeff cackled, stomping his foot down on the man's already wounded hand. All that earned was another cry. "Boy, that was the biggest mistake you've ever made. I think it's time you go to sleep," Jeff spat. This piece of shit didn't even deserve to have a beautiful smile, now. Jeff's foot shot out, kicking the man so he was now laying on his back.

"Fuck you!" the man spat, tears streaking down his cheeks like a river. Another laugh flew from the killers scarred lips as he drank in all the fear. It was mind numbing-delectable.

"You know how many times I have heard that?" he scoffed. "All of you people are just alike in every way. Even though none of you bastards look alike, not one of you is truly different. Disgusting, really. Pitiful copycats who fear one different man holding a knife. Then again, you should fear me," he smirked, his knife tracing up the man's torso. "Go to sleep," he breathed, before his knife made its glorious decent, slicing through the man's chest as if it was air.

Hot blood poured from the cut, causing Jeff's smile to grow. It cascaded onto his hands, the man's screams adding to the pleasure he felt. His hand pulled back, before slamming down once more, over and over. His hoodie, now appearing red, was soaked, along with his hair that was matted down. Specks of blood decorated his face, spotting on his teeth that were bared as he smiled. He didn't reach his point of satisfaction when the man's heart had ceased its beating. It was afterward, when his arm was beginning to ache, when he didn't recognize the being below. It could be anyone. Just like he had said earlier, they were all really the same.

Slowly, the killer stood, shoving his knife into his pocket. He stalked out of room, feeling content for the night. His blood lust was soothed, for now at least. The voice was quiet. On his way out, he managed to find a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and a nice, cool soda. Just a couple of rewards for his truck back home. He had just run out of his victim's cigarettes yesterday, so it was a lovely score. Starting down the street once more, not even taking care of his bloody appearance, he began to smack the pack of cigarettes on the palm of his hand, packing them.

A certain thought had been bothering him. His simple distraction, that nearly cost him back there. He laughed out loud at the thought, no, it didn't almost cost him. But it gave his victim a chance to call for help. Never has he been that thoughtless. It truly unnerved him, to the point where he was nearly sick. He had been thinking about her. His little pet that was cuffed back at his cabin. The one he hadn't killed. His unwilling prodigy. He frowned, starting through the woods, his knife, soda and lighter jingling together in his hoodie's pocket. He tore the wrapper from the cigarettes off, shoving it into his pocket with everything else.

He finally stopped in front of the cabin, leaning against a tree. It's rough bark scraped against his back, as he pulled one of the cigarettes from the pack. He replaced the pack with the lighter in his pocket, quickly lighting the cigarette. Taking a long drag, he blew the smoke out through his nose, allowing his thoughts to trail back to his distraction. True, she was the only one who had stood up to him. Hadn't feared death. That's why he gave her a chance. A chance to rise and be just like him. None of the other weaklings he faced deserved that opportunity. But she… did.

He knocked the ashes off his cigarette, looking back over at the cabin. The windows were dark, the oil lamp out. She was probably asleep, he supposed. He took another drag, gritting his teeth. It nearly killed him keeping a human alive. But she was different, he had convinced himself. Plus, she possessed the beautiful smile that he did. He sighed, the smoke tumbling from his lips. What if she refused to kill? Was he just supposed to dispose of her? Yes. That would have to be what he would do. Otherwise, she would be useless. He would have been wrong, and would just have to accept it. She seemed like a hollow carcass of a person, now. Almost like he was…

Another drag of the cigarette. She would come to acceptance. See the joy, the empowerment. Let the fear in their eyes fuel you, their blood satisfy you. Their screams push you harder. Show the world that you will not abide by their normalcy. He was above them all. And soon, hopefully she would be, too. Their beauty would shine, only if she would allow it. She still is trying to see how they see. Insanity has not yet claimed her. But he knew just how to change that.

The killer smiled, the cigarette's smoke slowly trickling out of the cuts on his cheeks.

Please review!