"Get hired at any place good?"
The sarcastic raspy voice disturbed Christina's empty mind as she walked into her apartment drenching wet. Her thin clothing clung to her body, defining every curve, bump, indentation, and underclothing. Her stringy hair hung around her face and stuck to her cheeks.
"No," she spoke to the air as she faltered through the darkness. The only light that appeared to be on in the small home was a tall table lamp without a shade that stood on the floor next to her couch.
"Heh, that's unfortunate."
Christina ignored the comments and stares from Jeff as she slowly walked down the hall to her bedroom. She shut the door and began to disrobe, her clothing struggling to cooperate as it gripped her clammy body. The room was slightly brighter than the rest of the apartment due to being the only room with a window. Light from the setting sun peaked into her room, illuminating the lack of furniture.
"I'm hungry Chrissy!"
Christina left her soaking clothing in a heap on the floor and went to her dresser. She picked out a pair of baggy, stained sweat pants and a very unflattering large shirt with sleeves that went five inches past her bony fingers. She picked up the pile of wet clothes and took them into the bathroom to dry over the shower rod before going into the kitchen and to begin looking in the cupboards and fridge for ideas.
Jeff sat in the chair he had begun to claim his own, his feet propped up on an overturned bucket he found. He watched with a grin as the tired woman moved about the kitchen, grabbing various items from the relatively empty cupboards and fridge. He had scoped out the whole place before she had arrived home, and found that the apartment was just as unpleasant as the outside of the building appeared. A small part of Jeff's mind wondered why the place had not been shut down for violating so many health and safety codes, but he mostly didn't care. Having a crappy roof over his head was better than having no roof at all.
"Whach ya makin there," he inquired with mock interest.
"Spaghetti."
"Oh yum. I haven't had that in years," Jeff commented. Despite his jeer, it was true; he hadn't had spaghetti in years.
Christina nodded silently as she slowly stirred the sauce in the pot. She added a couple shakes of some spices to the canned sauce, hoping to make it more pleasing to taste.
"So, what do you do for fun around here?"
Christina didn't want to reply. It was bad enough that a mass murderer was living in her home with her, but that he actually expected her to converse with him made her insides crawl.
"Read," she whispered.
"I'm sorry, didn't catch that. Could you repeat that sweet-cheeks?"
Jeff chuckled quietly to himself as the woman tensed up, her shoulders raising and becoming hard. He made a mental note to call her that more often.
"Read," Jeff heard her say again, albeit louder this time.
"Ah, what a fun past time. I never found much amusement in reading, just wasn't my fix."
'No,' Christina thought, 'you found your fix in killing people and running from the police.'
"Anything else you do to entertain yourself in this shit hole?"
Christina didn't say anything as she got two plates out and began to scoop noodles onto them.
"Oooooh, silent treatment, huh," Jeff jeered at the woman as she walked over with two plates. Her eyes were fixated on the floor. Jeff's grin widened as she bent slightly at the waist and leaned forward to hand him his plate of food. Jeff took the fork off the plate and began to dig in, Christina still holding the plate. One bite…two bites…three bites…four. Christina standing silently the whole time, a plate of spaghetti balanced on each hand.
"You used can sauce, didn't you," Jeff commented with his mouth full, "Last time I had spaghetti, the sauce was home-made."
Christina didn't say anything as her body trembled in anger. This guy was continuing to toy with her. He was doing the simplest things to push her buttons, all intentionally. Her pride was wounded, what little she had left. Christina wanted to cry, but refused to break down in front of this despicable excuse for a person. It wasn't anything new though, being treated less than dirt by someone else. Christina was quite accustomed to hiding her pain from those who hurt her, but this was her home. Despite the condition of it, Christina felt comfortable in her home. Her tiny apartment was the only place she was able to let out all the emotions that squirmed inside her, and now… even that had been taken from her.
Christina dropped the plates of food just as Jeff was reaching for his tenth bite of food. A silence echoed in the room as Christina held her breath. Jeff's labored breathing was slow and focused as he stared down at the mess on the floor and his legs. His lips formed a frown despite the corners of his mouth forcing themselves to point upwards.
"I'm sorry!"
Jeff watched as Christina ran from the room after her quick squeak. He rolled his eyes and got up from his comfortable spot and walked into the kitchen. He picked up the garbage and brought it into the living room to scoop the noodles into the trash. He dusted the sauce and noodles off his pants and cleaned up the sauce with a spoon. The scent of tomatoes filled the room but there wasn't much he could do about that. A splotchy red stain complemented the carpet with all the other dark colored stains. After washing his hands in the kitchen sink, Jeff made his way down the hall. He walked into her closed bedroom to see an empty bed. Turning around, he saw light peeking out from the closed bathroom door.
Knock, knock.
"Christina," Jeff drawled, "I know you're in there."
He received a strained silence in reply.
"Oh Christina," He continued in a sing-song tone, "I'm not mad at you for dropping the food. You seem to make a mess out of everything anyways." He chuckled at his own comment. The silence continued but he could hear the woman's heavy breathing from the other side of the door.
"You can't stay in there forever sweet-cheeks. What am I supposed to eat now?"
Despite his comment, Jeff was not hungry. He had gone days without eating and the little amount he had eaten was a more filling meal than he had eaten in some time. He listened quietly at the door and heard a variety of soft sounds. The first one he heard was sniffling. The next sound Jeff identified was sharp intakes of breath of someone in pain. The sound spiked his curiosity. And finally, the last sound Jeff identified was sound of a tiny clinkering, as if a small piece of metal was dropped on the tile floor.
Jeff backed away from the door, his lips forming a frown and his eyebrows pulled together. He stared at the door as if he could see through it at the woman inside and observe her every movement. In silence, he went back to the living room and lied down on the couch.
.o.o.o.
When Jeff woke up, Christina was nowhere to be found as she had already left. This wasn't anything new though, the woman had a habit of leaving the place before he woke up and coming back late at night. He yawned as he washed his face in the bathroom sink. Staying under the radar had given him a chance to sleep full nights, which was unusual for his regular sleeping pattern of sleeping a few hours whenever he got the chance. The cold water slid down Jeff's face and dripped off his chin into the sink, his eyes stinging. Jeff had been finding it harder to keep his eyes open for extended periods of time as he usually did around people to make them uncomfortable. His eyes were accustomed to being open for about ten minutes before drying out and he needing to blink but that was because he had done it so often. With Christina gone for most of the day and then sleeping the whole night, his eyes were losing their tolerance for not needing to blink.
The man walked out into the kitchen, his dirty hoodie draped over the couch. He opened the fridge and pulled out the half-full quart of milk. Popping the lid off, Jeff drank right from the opening before placing it back into the fridge, almost empty. He sighed and looked around the living room. Nothing. There was nothing to do. The only thing for entertainment was a small pile of books in the corner of the room. His groan echoed throughout the empty home as he walked back into the bathroom.
Finally bored so much that he was considering cleaning, Jeff stripped and stepped into the shower. Luke-warm water rained down on him as he stood there; trying to remember the last time he had showered. He couldn't. The murderer's hair clumped in wet knots to itself and his shoulders, causing him to realize just how nasty his hair felt. Jeff raked his hand through the dark brown locks, his fingers catching on multiple knots before he finally gave up and yanked his hand from the matted hair. The water pooling around the drain was a mixture of pink and murky browns.
He grabbed the bar of soap and began to scrub himself. After scrubbing both arms, the once white bar of soap was now pink and brown. Jeff mumbled a swear and began to wash the soap itself. How dirty was he? He had swam in rivers while hiding out in woods before and changed his clothes every once in awhile by stealing from his victims, but he never realized just how filthy his body was. Jeff continued to scrub himself and wash the soap afterwards, completely ignoring the scraggly mass that fell from his head.
By the time he was finished scraping the filth off his body, the bar of soap was a fifth of its original size. Jeff reached for the shampoo and squeezed a large dollop into his palm. He attempted to lather it into his scalp but felt as though he was only creating more knots. After washing it out –unsuccessfully- he coated his long locks with conditioner. Starting at the bottom, Jeff used his fingers to pull apart knots in his hair.
The intruder stepped out from the shower once done, his body freezing and his hair smooth, and wiped off the foggy mirror. He stared at his muscular body with raised eyebrows. His skin complexion seemed to lighten three tones. His white face no longer stood out in comparison to his pale body although he could still see the district lines where white met peach. Jeff snatched a brush off the counter and walked out into the living room.
.o.o.o.
Bang!
"Fuck," a muffled female voice giggled.
Jeff's eyes snapped open by the clamor outside the apartment door. It had sounded as though someone had stumbled and fallen, although the obnoxious giggle afterwards was peculiar. The tired man yawned and straightened himself in the lounging chair. He reached over the armrest and grabbed his knife from off the floor, ready to attack if need be. Something banged on the door once, and then a figure stumbled into the dark room.
"Hahahaha… I fell…"
Jeff watched as Christina crawled on the floor and shut the door. She sat, legs crossed and stared off into the dark kitchen, giggling periodically. Her stringy hair stuck around her face and her eyes drooped. She wore tight black pants and a revealing long sleeve shirt that gripped every curve. The smell of alcohol, sweat, and rain stung Jeff's nose as he stared at the pathetic scene. Christina hiccupped and glanced at him. Despite the darkness, Jeff saw her eyes squinting at him.
"Who're you."
Jeff grinned at the sitting woman, her drunken stupor the only entertainment he has seen in some time. She stood up, tripped, caught herself, balanced with her arms on the wall, and wondered over into the kitchen. Holding onto the wall as she moved, she made her way to the light switch and flicked it on, illuminating the dark rooms.
"Huh, I'm-" hiccup "- talking to you."
Jeff didn't say anything as he grinned at the intoxicated woman.
"Oh, silen-eatmen, huh? Yare one of 'ose guys," she slurred on. Christina stared at Jeff for a silent moment before screeching in frustration. "I've had 'nough a you ass 'oles. Leadenmeh onan usen meh. Fuck awloh you."
Jeff's dark left eyebrow quirked upwards as he watched Christina's mind unfold. The drunk woman stumbled over herself as she stepped away from the wall and towards Jeff but not yet leaving the plastic kitchen tile floor.
"You fuckahs," she continued on, her face red, "I'm sickah be-en used by you. You neva leave meh alone. Why? Huh? Why? I jus wanted a good time, ya know? But he 'ed I was uglay, 'at I was disgusting."
Jeff continued to watch with interest at the amusing scene. The woman took a few more unbalanced steps towards him as she began to rant about what seemed to be the problem.
"I shouldna let 'em turn the lights on. I shoulda stopped 'im. I neva do it wit lights on."
The drunk woman looked down with a somber expression before glaring daggers at the sitting man.
"Talk tah meh! Talk dammit! It's my fault!" Christina's voice cracked as she sputtered out her thoughts. "I know I was wrong but you didn't 'ave tah do that!"
Jeff's grin began to fade as the woman's performance took a turn. Christina's eyes brimmed with tears and her shoulders slumped as she stared at Jeff.
"I'm sowway! I tried to be bettah! I'm not good enough."
Tension formed in Jeff's forehead as he watched, ever silently.
"Well!" Christina blurted out, salty liquid now streaming down her face and mixing with the dried rain and sweat that stained her cheeks," aren't you gunna say any 'ting?" She was now standing in front of the old chair that Jeff observed her from. "I'ma failure. I can't get a good job. I 'ave no monay. I'm destroyen myself!"
Silence echoed loudly throughout the small apartment. The killer's stomach did a flip as he saw this woman fall apart. It was as if all her deepest pains were crawling out of her skin and he did not want to see any more of them. He felt nauseated and began shifting his position as if to become comfortable.
"My fadah was wite… I dezav this… I miss my maddah"
A moment passed before the distressed woman doubled over and vomited. Liquids with small lumps spewed from her mouth and splattered all over herself and the already stained carpet. Jeff was grateful that his feet were up at that moment but unfortunately he still had his sense of smell. A strong acrid scent burned his nostrils as Christina continued to empty her insides. Jeff stared at the woman in disgust.
'Damn! Just how much crap is in her stomach?' Jeff wondered as Christina continued to hurl.
Jeff had rarely seen her eat in the two weeks that he had spent in her house and he confirmed that the liquids were alcohol and stomach acid as the pungent scent got stronger. He turned his head away and gave up on keeping his eyes open to disturb the woman. Despite the tolerance of his eyes, the vapors emitting from Christina's puke were powerful enough to irritate them.
When the retching sounds finally ceased, Jeff's senses were burning with irritation from the potent smells. He glanced over at Christina to see the exhausted woman curled up on the floor. She laid on her side near the edge of the vomit, her side rising and lowering with each shallow breath she took. Her eyes were barely open as she stared off into the sour liquids.
"Shit," Jeff groaned out. With another grumble of protest, he swung his feet off the crate and rose from the chair. The killer stood tall next to the fallen woman, a look of disdain on his face despite his next actions.
"Come on."
Despite Jeff's coaching and arms trying to lift her up, Christina did not cling onto him. She didn't even reach for him at all. It was as if the fallen woman was numb, completely numb to all her senses. Jeff grumbled in annoyance as he settled on lifting her into his arms bridal style. He looked down at her limp body, her matted hair, and her weak arms. She was lighter than a feather in his arms as he carried her to the bathroom. Her eyes drifted shut and opened slightly periodically but she made no indication of life. Her stress-wrinkled face was coated with a mixture of sweat, tears, drool, and vomit.
Jeff gently set her down in the tub, not bothering to wash it out first. He turned around and faced the open door, his eyes squeezed shut before opening and sighing. He should just leave her there, let her fall asleep in the tub and come back a different day. He should have actually moved on by now but he found the area easy to kill in. Jeff grunted as his shoulders relaxed and he turned back around. Christina was just sitting there, holding her knees and leaning against the cracked tiled wall, her eyes closed.
The man walked over and slowly lifted the exhausted woman's arms up so they rested on his shoulders. He then dipped his fingers below her shirt and gradually pulled it up and slid the filthy garment off her arms. Jeff has never been one to respect modesty of those he killed; frankly he did not want them in any sexual ways so he never cared for what clothes they were wearing. But in this moment as he saw Christina's full breasts covered by a stained and raggedy white bra, he felt embarrassed. Jeff attempted to avoid looking at her as he put the soiled shirt in the sink. Then the killer walked over and looked down at her tight pants. He couldn't leave them on her, could he? Jeff grumbled as he knelt down and began to slide the pants off her legs, intentionally avoiding looking at her. Christina didn't so much as budge as he did this, it was as if she didn't have a care at all what he did to her, that, or she was simply too tired to be concerned at all. She simply sat there, not cooperating nor struggling.
Jeff placed the pants in the sink as well and went back over to Christina but before he turned on the shower head, he looked down at her and stopped in his tracks. Scars. The thin frame of the woman was covered in scars. All along her arms, stomach, and legs resided the dark marks. Long, short, thin, thick, some clearly fading from age and some…. Some still scabbing over. Jeff stared down at Christina, his heart pounding against the cage of his chest and his mind surprisingly blank. He was shocked. It wasn't as though he thought she would never harm herself, but he had never put much thought into it. The butcher had seen similar gashes on his victims before, but never to this extent. He knew that self-harm was a common among those depressed but what he saw was far more than that in this woman's case. It looked at those she had been cutting herself with a variety of items for a multitude of years, and had been trying to bleed herself dry. Jeff turned his gaze to the bathroom floor and almost vomited as he saw dark red stains among the other grime that dirtied the floor.
He looked back at Christina and gulped the lump that had grown in his throat. Why was he acting so disturbed by this? He had never gotten so distraught before, and never over some lowly person's sob story. That's all she was. She was a random woman who he shouldn't even be taking care off.
"Fucken hell."
Jeff reached to turn the water on and stepped back as it sprayed down on the sleeping woman. She awoke with a start, her eyes wide and scared. Before she could speak a word, Jeff stalked out of the bathroom and out of the house. He pulled his hood up as he walked down the stairs and into the night.
His hands stayed in his hoodie pocket, slowly twirling the knife he made sure to grab before leaving as he walked the smelly streets. Hookers past by him and drunk men stumbled. People curled up on the side of buildings. Jeff ignored them and prowled on. He didn't want to look at them. He ignored the loud noises of a dangerous city at night, the melody of gun shots, yelling, fights, hushed whispers, and club music.
What was he still doing here? It relieved him that the police weren't on his trail, but that took out half the fun of killing! There was no longer a chase for him. When someone got killed in this neighborhood, it was as if the authorities expected it and just added the person to a list of other dates and times of deaths. It meant nothing. They didn't investigate it. Hell, Jeff could take his sweet time after a kill instead of rushing out because the police wouldn't come for at least half an hour after the screams. It was boring. Yeah, he had easy pickings and could enjoy the adrenaline of the slaughter at any time. He could sooth his demanding itches to kill, but it simply was not as fun. So why the hell was he still in this shit hole?
"Hey."
Jeff continued walking on, ignoring the deep voice that spoke.
"Hey faggot! I'm talking to you!"
Jeff stopped in his tracks, seething beneath the cover of hid hood.
"That's right. Now turn around nice and slow, hands out of pockets."
The corners of Jeff's mouth split as his forced smile became a feral and excited grin. A low chuckle echoed in the dark alley way. Gradually, Jeff turned around but he kept his head down and his hands in his hoodie pocket, toying with the knife he was desperate to use any second now. A man stood a couple feet in front of him, a gun in his hand.
"Hey freak, I said hands out!"
Jeff's chuckle became laughter.
"What the-" The man began to say in shock but was cut off as the chortle became a shrieking cackle. Jeff's head fell back and his hood fell onto his shaking shoulders.
"The fuck is wrong with you man!?"
Immediately the killer's cackling was silenced. With a snap of his head, Jeff looked at the man with a wicked gleam in his wide eyes. He tilted his head slightly to the side, just one of the many tricks he picked up that made people uneasy.
"With me? Nothing is wrong with me," Jeff responded in a smooth yet eerie tone, "But there is something wrong with you."
It was as if the man wielding the gun was frozen in fear, consumed by the sight before him. The man's blood drowned in the fear that flowed through his veins. His mind screamed at him to run as he watched his old prey-now predator- gracefully pull a knife out of his hoodie pocket. Jeff was walking towards him when the man's feet finally listened and he turned on his heel to flee, but it was too late.
"You're not sleeping!"
Jeff pounced on the man and began to stab him repeatedly. He brought his arm far back and lunge the blade down into the man's abdomen, grinning blood splattered him. Screams of terror filled the night air before they were over in just a short two minutes. Silence followed afterwards. It seemed as though the city around them had frozen in fear.
Jeff jumped up and bounced a little on the balls of his feet. He needed that kill, one that actually excited him instead of boring him. He chuckled lightly and turned back down the alley, prowling back into the night.
.o.o.o.
The song is Rain by Breaking Benjamin. This is one of my favorite songs to listen to when I'm in a sad mood. It is so beautiful and takes you away on a gentle boat ride down emotional stream. The acoustic guitar and low voice will make you close your eyes and sway slowly as you mouth the words. I picked this song for the chapter because I think it can go for both Jeff and Christina. Well… The song doesn't go with Jeff's actions at the end but ya know. Lol.
So Do you guys like this story? Would you rather me focus more on updating this story than In Love With A Killer? What do you think of how things are developing? Any ideas for the future? TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Please and thank you 3
Also, any fanart or any long comment gets a shoutout on all of my accounts. 3