She was crying. Abby was in so much pain, that she was crying. Jeff stared at her trembling form, pathetic whimpers seeping from her as her skin dripped from her. The nurses uniform she wore barely clung onto her by thin strands of fabric, the edges seared black. Her back, from her shoulders all the way to her waist, was scorched. It was as if an open flame had been held to her and kept there, until the damage had reached the bone underneath. It was bad, it was worse than the burn he'd suffered so long ago. He touched his face, the smooth, almost leathery texture moving easily under his fingers. He remembered it, the fight that little dickhead had forced him into. It had been painful, but it hadn't been a third degree burn. It hadn't warranted skin graphs.

Abby was going to need skin graphs.

He shook his head, mentally arguing with himself. No, no she wouldn't. He'd cared for her other injuries, he could care for this one.

He'd never hurt her that badly, though. This was an raw, open wound that spanned over a large area of her body. It was going to get infected if it wasn't taken care of, and it needed to be handled by professionals.

He could cut the infection out, maybe?

This was going to kill her.

He swallowed thickly, his throat feeling far too dry. The feeling was back again, and he felt the urge to drag his nails over her burn. To make it bleed, to hear her screams. He stepped away from her, backing toward the door. "Um, Okay." he started, his voice wavering from the strain of not hurting her further, "I'm going to get something to help you. Stay here."

No response, could she even think enough to hear him at that point? What the fuck happened, anyway? She couldn't have burnt herself, couldn't have been burned by anyone without him noticing. Her odd little stalker she'd mentioned before, the one that had given her the pillowcase...at first he'd thought it was that bastard Slendy, but he'd had his doubts. This clenched it; whomever did this, it was not the Slender Man. He'd have to ask her to describe the man later, for now he needed to deal with this.

He stepped outside, pulling his hood up over his head. He closed the door behind him, taking a moment to decide on what to do. He knew what was needed, but everything in him demanded him not to do it. He sighed, and started away. She would die by his hand, and not some Kruger wannabe in her dreams.

Minutes later, he was back at the house, dragging a fresh kill with him. The man had been washing his car, alone. Jeff was almost disappointed at how easy it had been. He lay the corpse in front of the door, and then dug his fingers into the gaping hole in it's neck. Gathering the blood, he began to paint the words onto the old wood.

GO TO SLEEP

Once that was done, he reached into the man's pocket, and pulled out his cell phone. He held the small, silvery device for a long moment, his unblinking gaze taking in every detail.

He opened it, and dialed the number. Three simple keys, a nine, a one, and another one. Then the little green button. He lifted the phone to his ear and waited patently. Someone answered on the second ring.

"Hello!" greeted an annoyingly cheerful female voice. He almost growled in disgust, "Nine-one-one. Might I ask what your emergency is?"

Weren't these people supposed to take their jobs seriously? Really, this sounded like a prep fresh out of school. Time to bring her down a peg or two... "Hello," he crooned lowly, "My name is Jeff. You know, the guy you've been looking for. Slaughtered half a hospital not too long ago."

"Um, this is an emergency channel, sir, not a pranking service." she answered, a slight nervousness peaking through. Good.

"Oh, this isn't a prank, I assure you." he said, chuckling lowly, "I thought we could play a little game. Remember that girl I snagged, miss Abigail Addams? I have her here with me. Oh, keeping someone around was fun for a little while, but now it's just boring."

Silence came from the other line. He counted to ten, and when she still didn't answer, he continued, "So, let's get something interesting going. I'm going to put her to sleep, slowly," a low snicker, meant to send a shiver through the girl on the other end, "And you will try to beat me to it."

"Ah, you...you can't! L-leave the poor thing alone."

He rolled his eyes. Had no one bothered to train her? "Oh, I can, and I will. Have you even bothered to start tracking this call yet? Worthless, aren't you? Not that it matters to me, it'll just give me more time to listen to her cry out...lovely little pleas for mercy... oh, look at the time, have to go."

"No! No, ah, don't-" he ignored her, putting the phone on the guy's chest, keeping the call connected so the line could be traced. What were they thinking, hiring someone like her? She should have tried to keep his attention, started tracking his position as soon as he stated who he was. How long was it going to take for anyone to actually show up and help Abby, huh? He bet she hadn't even started trying yet. He hoped they stated her name in the next news broadcast, because oh, was he going to be eager to pay her a visit if they did.

Shaking his head, he snuck away, finding a place to hide and wait across the street. Twenty minutes passed before he heard the sirens.

He started away, slinking through the spaces between houses and hurrying away from the scene. They were going to help her, but they weren't going to do any good for him. He cursed to himself silently, knowing that there was no way he could go to the hospital to get her back. He didn't even know which hospital he should go to, considering the last one she'd been to had been shut down after his killing spree.

The second closest one was several miles away, he thought. He still couldn't go there, they'd be on their guard for sure. He'd have to wait until she was released.

For now, he needed to kill again. It was funny, almost, how many more lives he had to take after meeting her.