I'm writing another story involving Batman because I'm a lonely nerd. It's called "Painting the Roses Red" and is an OC story like this one. If you're interested, check it out.

SlenderXLover- Yes, ma'am. (Goes to documents).

Guardian of Fear- Thank you, oh powerful one.

LuLuCalliope- Well, it's not every day somebody gets away from Jeff. And I know what you mean. Being cut deep scares me, so the idea of having my face forever scarred so deep sounds painful.

. . .

She hates him. Wendy hates the way he almost drags her down the stairs by the wrists, two twisted smiles focused on her. Jeff seemed almost joyous. But the joy hung to each falling snow flake. She should be playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with Ben, praying to pull his name.

But she felt his happiness was sincere.

They halted to a stop in front of a vine covered gate. The bars were crooked, double doors unaligned.

"I like your eyes, Wendy." She saw his words in the form of cloudy puffs. Wendy would've wrapped a jacket around herself if she had one. Snow fell into her shoes, biting through her thin socks. Stray snowflakes fell down, getting caught in her hair and eyelashes.

"T-that's random." Wendy tried to chuckle away the awkwardness. Jeff wouldn't let it settle.

"They're large and green. Not a lot of things sparkle around here." He started to tug off his hoodie. Wendy could only watched in perplexed silence. Soon it was a barrier between them, hanging from his hands in its dirty glory. She stared at his oily hair. He was now dressed in all black.

He flicked his hair from his face. "Aren't you going to take it?" She was shocked. An act of kindness? Surely he was planning something.

Wendy plucked the hoodie from his hand. Crusty blood flaked off onto her fingers. It felt stiff with dirt and perhaps sweat. His body heat still hung in the sweat shirt's cotton weave. "You're gonna freeze in nothing but a tee shirt." She warned. His arms were completely hairless. Jeff's black shirt wasn't as dirty as the hoodie. He knew she'd take the bait, being the idiot she was. This was in no way a nice thing. First he'd brainwash her, earn her trust. Then he'd make his move. Somebody needed to understand his views on life. To steal her metaphor, he'd take the butterfly and put it in a jar. Laugh as it fluttered around the poison soaked cotton ball. Her wings would be grass green like her eyes. Once it was barely lapping its wings, he'd pin her to something with a pearl tipped needle, still twitching. How pretty she'd look among his other victims.

She shrunk into herself when his hand touched her lower back.

"Why are you so jumpy?" he asked.

"You're kind of a serial killer."

She could run. The woods weren't too far away. . .

Suddenly, a little brown rabbit darted from the lower brambles. Perfect.

"Oh, look! It's so cute!" Jeff turned to where she pointed, and while he was distracted she bolted into the trees.

. . .

"Give her a few weeks, she probably went with her brother." Miss Christopher shouldered her designer bag. Being a private coach didn't pay well, but that didn't stop her from buying designer sweat suits. "If it'll make ya' feel better, I could call him." The "No Smoking" sign was sitting right above is right shoulder, yet he still flicked his lighter off and on. The rink was cold as ever, slipping into the winter clothes. The smudged guard glass blurred out powdered, scarred ice. His jeans rubbed his skin raw thanks to the plastic bleachers.

His twisting stomach didn't help his discomfort, either.

"You actually have his number?" Ben peered up at her under furrowed brows. Of course she'd hold out this important pawn in their situation.

"Yup, I'll handle that tonight. Alright?"

"Alright."

. . .

She actually made it. Granted, not very far, but it was good enough to fuel her smugness. Wendy spent ten minutes in the woods, managing her breathing to make as little noise as possible. She abandoned his stiff hoodie next to a tree before turning right, hoping to throw him off. But of course he would catch her when Smiles ran up and began barking for her. The shock stilled her for a good three seconds, enough time for Jeff to tackle the already immobile girl to the ground. Thinking back on it, running was stupid. Although he was slightly distracted and at ease, he must've been ready for any sudden bolts. It was a power lurking deep in his bones, ready to pump out enough adrenaline to catch a fleeing victim. The guy probably had a plan for when a purple spaghetti monster bursts onto the scene.

The image of Jeff, the horrifying serial killer who kidnaps teenage ice skaters, getting distracted by the ole "Hey, look!" shtick would be with her forever. Later she'd dig it up and laugh at it.

Smiles saw the man tackle Wendy into the snowy dune at the base of an old oak. Since he was a puppy, he loved to jump into any pileups of people. That's exactly how the huskie reacted to the otherwise dark moment (Jeff was bashing her head into the ground, screaming profanities at her).

The sudden warm, fuzzy presence made both of them pause. The dog leaped up and down like a child on Christmas morning, tongue hanging from between his dripping jaws. Jeff winced when a paw suddenly thrust itself into his face. Wendy was the least bit annoyed. She laughed on, digging her fingers into his fur.

"Smilers! The heck are you doing out here?" She regarded the moment as if the odd factors didn't, well, factor in. She giggled when her beloved pet lapped her cheek, forgetting how Jeff called her a bitch and whore just seconds earlier while trying to break her neck. Her dirty clothes and oily hair vanished, and she imagined herself in the small backyard on Larson street. Smiles would be licking away, nails digging into her plush coat. Jeff wouldn't be a maniac, instead he'd be a demolished snowman she fell into when Smiles pounced onto her back.

And as the snow bit through their T shirts, Jeff couldn't help but smile, too.

Wendy Sparks would make a very pretty display. A pretty display of Jeffery Winters's genius.