She was running, her heart pounding faster than the strides she leapt. Darkness surrounded her and the scent of blood wouldn't leave her nostrils. Boarded up buildings and fallen people surrounded her regardless of where she went. The blue night sky covered with purple clouds gave her a sense of foreboding, and she knew, there was far more to come.

Christina ran into a random building, desperate to escape her surroundings. She rushed through the abandoned factory, her lungs practically collapsing under the physical strain. She tried to think of how long she had been running but couldn't remember; all she knew was that she had been running for awhile and could not stop any time soon.

Christina found an open door to a supply closet and bolted in, shutting the door and locking it securely behind her. Where was she supposed to go? What was she going to do? Christina held her head and squeezed her eyes shut, pain ricocheting through her. She couldn't remember when she started hearing their screams, but now it was overwhelming. The frightened woman crouched down against the wall as she tried to figure out what was going on.

When had she started running? She had been walking past the same deteriorating buildings on her way home when the sky grew dark. Then she started seeing the bodies, more and more pilling up on the streets as she passed. Christina tried to remember harder, despite the stabbing pain in her mind. She remembered feeling someone following her and started running in fear. She didn't want to end up like the mutilated bodies around her. Who could have done such sick and twisted things to a person?

Her stomach emptied on the dirty floor as she recalled the bodies outside, the mind showing her vivid images of their corpses. Who was she running from? It had to be the one who killed everyone, but it didn't make sense. One person alone couldn't do that much damage. It had to be a group. A group of terrorist. Breathing heavy once again, Christina tried to compose herself.

Clang!

The woman's head shot up and stared with wide eyes at the door. Something out there had caused the metal to fall. That wasn't natural. It sounded like someone whipped a pole onto the concrete floor. Then in the silence, the soft echo of footsteps reached her ears. Instantly, Christina was up and running down the dark halls of the factory, praying to reach safety.

The steps were closer and closer. She started seeing bodies around her. An earthquake shook the building, causing it to break and fall apart. Thousands of poor, loving mothers and frail young children fell from the ceiling, their bodies bloody and broken. Christina screamed as she dodged the bodies and debris. Little bags littered the crumbling floor, gun shots and screamed echoed in her ears. She was running, she had to escape, she had to get away, she couldn't become what was around her. No, she had to run. She had to run. She had to run! Run!

"Gotcha!"

"NNNOOOOOOOOOO!"

…..

The woman's screams echoed in the silent room. She had bolted up in her bed, panting and shaking. Her messy hair hung down her back in a loose ponytail, escaped strands sticking to her panic stricken face. She clutched the blankets around her as her head snapped left and right, trying to remember where she was.

Christina took a shaking gasp of air into her aching lungs. Her clothes stuck to her due to the glue-like coating of sweat covering her body. Slowly, Christina brought herself to the edge of her bed and let her feet dangle down. With her elbows resting on her pale knees, she held her head in her hands.

'What…what happened?...'

She had woken up from a nightmare; that much she knew. She had nightmares on a nightly basis, waking up from them in the dead of night was nothing new, but this time… This time something was wrong. Christina tried to remember her dream, struggling as her mind tried to grasp murky goo that slipped through its fingers.

Christina slowly breathed in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then gently released the air out of her lungs. She couldn't remember, and if she was being honest with herself, she probably didn't want to. Christina glanced over to her nightstand to look at the clock, but was prevented seeing it by a different object; in front of the glowing green numbers of her analog clock, stood a tall glass of a clear liquid. Next to the cup of water were two small white pills. Christina picked the two pills up and examined them. She couldn't remember having ibuprofen in her house, and now that she thought about it, Christina couldn't remember coming home.

It was now that she realized just how badly her head was throbbing. With a large gulp, Christina swallowed the two pills, and then took another gulp of the water, and another. Before long, the cup was empty and Christina was staring at the bright green numbers, breathing heavily. It was seven thirty… at night.

She took a shaky step up, trying to ignore how weak she felt. She had never run a mile in her life, but right now it felt like she had ran five miles in the hot desert. Christina slowly made her way into the bathroom, making sure to take careful steps in case she lost balance. With a flick of her finger, she turned the light on and immediately turned it off again. It was too bright. Sighing, she turned on the cold water, willing herself to rinse her sweaty face.

'Where was I last night?' Christina thought. She recalled going out but not coming home. It was normal for Christina to sleep in after being out late, but to have no memory of coming home and to sleep the rest of the next day? There was just something wrong with that.

The confused woman reached down to grab the towel on the floor to dry her face but stopped the moment the scent hit her nose. Vomit. The towel reeked of alcohol and puke. Christina covered her nose as she threw the soiled towel into her tub. She'd have to make a trip to the Laundromat tomorrow. It was due time anyways, a small pile of the only clothing she owned had begun to grow in her bedroom corner and Christina knew that she couldn't keep re-wearing dirty clothes.

Christina took lazy steps down the hall, covering her eyes as she went.

"T-turn that l-light off," she croaked out. Her own voice shocked her and her throat hurt. Everything felt strained and forced.

The kitchen light was off by the time Christina was fully in the front of her home, much to her relief. Not only was her head hurting, but now her eyes stung from the brief exposure to light. Despite the darkness, she knew where her forced-room-mate was. Jeff stood next to the front door, his white hoodie up and his hands by his sides.

"Morning sleeping beauty," he taunted.

Christina glared at him through squinty eyes, earning a light chuckle in response, before she waved her hand at him and made her way to the fridge.

"It smells awful in here. What did you do last night?" Christina groaned lightly from the light of the open fridge in her face.

A low chuckle echoed in her apartment but Christina was in too much of a foul mood to care for the undertones, or to notice the slight forcefulness of it. She pulled the pint of milk out of the fridge with the jelly and bread. Without paying much attention to the man less than ten feet away from her, Christina began making herself a sandwich.

"Hm? Me? I wasn't here last night. I came back around noon and found you out cold."

"Is that why you left me the water and ibuprofen," she mumbled her question.

She didn't notice the way Jeff froze up as she put the items back into the fridge, nor did she notice the way he stared at her.

"I didn't leave you anything," He finally replied.

Christina leaned her back against the fridge, eating her jelly sandwich as she squinted at the dark mass by her front door. Was it really necessary to talk? It hurt her throat and seemed to make her head hurt more. So why was she bothering to socialize with this creep who had imposed on her and acted like he owned the place? Sighing to herself, she stopped thinking about the reasons for her actions and simply accepted the fact she was lonely and still not fully awake yet. Besides, he was the only chance she would be able to figure out why she slept the whole day away.

"Did you vomit?"

"Hm?"

"The towel in my bathroom, it reeked of puke. Did you vomit in here? Is that why it smells bad?"

Christina's eyebrows knit together and a low grumble escaped her throat at this laugh.

"Sweetheart, that was you."

'I don't remember vomiting,' Christina thought to herself, although that would explain why her throat hurt so badly. Then again, she couldn't remember ever coming home last night.

She waited until his laughter died down before continuing with her questions, talking between bites of her sandwich.

"What else did I do?"

"I don't know," Christina flinched at his sudden biting tone, "I came back here and found a puddle of your puke next to my chair! I don't know what you did last night!"

Christina's voice was soft as she spoke again, "I didn't mean to upset you… I just can't remember anything…"

Jeff scoffed at her before walking over to 'his' chair and flopping down.

"You should drink more water. Most of what you hurled up was liquid."

Confusion clutched Christina's mind.

"But… I thought you weren't here to see me vomit?..."

"I wasn't! Someone had to clean up your damn mess!"

"Oh…" Christina gulped down the last bite of her sandwich, "I'm sorry…"

Silence echoed around them before Christina trudged back to her room. It was quiet in the house, and the lack of noise was louder than any sound she'd ever heard. Christina curled up in her bed, holding herself tightly. She was a mess and knew it. Christina bitterly laughed at herself, she had never been cleaned. She had always been a filthy mess since she was born. It was just how things were.

Her eyes grew heavy as her mind took a darker tone, although not once that was new to her. Christina hated her thoughts, hated her mind, hated herself, but that was what she knew. She knew how to hate herself and all she was. As painful and challenging as feeling all that was, she knew it and could easily do it. Christina smiled sadly to herself at the realization. She had made a home in this disastrous storm. She couldn't remember when, but long ago she must have burrowed herself a little den in the damp, cold ground that comforted her despite hurting her.

The last thing Christina's frail eyes comprehended seeing was a figure coming into her room and putting what appeared to be a cup of water in front of her clock.

.o.o.o.

"So, did you find a job yet Crissy?"

Christina ignored Jeff's annoying banter as she put her clothes away. The bag of freshly clean clothes and towels sat in the center of her bed. Before putting the items in the correct drawers, she folded each one into a perfect square, making sure not a corner was out of place.

"Did you decide not to get one so you don't break any nails Princess?"

The tired woman grit her teeth as she pulled out some underwear and began to fold them. Despite having slept for almost 48 hours, she still felt completely drained. Her body couldn't seem recover from the night out. For the millionth time, Christina wondered what the hell she did that night.

"Oooohh, that's a sexy pair of undies. Did you get a nose bleed in your pants darling?"

Christina snapped around before the man could see her face growing just as red as her stained underwear. Why had he decided to bother her so much this day? He had insisted on coming to the Laundromat with her, despite all her protests. After finally giving in, she told him that he would have to wear something besides his bloody hoodie. While Christina read after putting her clothes into the washer and paying the couple dollars in quarters, Jeff wandered around in one of her baggy black t-shirt which actually fit perfectly on him. He had repeatedly interrupted her reading to ask random questions or makes jeers at her, to which she unsuccessfully ignored. He had continued his annoying harassment while her clothes were in the dryer as well. Christina had ignored him to the best of her abilities, but he didn't seem to get the hint since they had come home.

"Awe. It's okay Chrissy. Sometimes I get blood stains on my clothes too. Although… the blood is never my own."

Christina's body tensed by his cackle afterwards. How long was she going to have to deal with this man? She pulled out a pair of jeans and began folding them.

"Still giving me the silent treatment, huh Chrissy? I'll get you to talk sooner or later," he taunted.

The tired woman rolled her eyes as she put her clothes away. It was almost seven pm, which meant her favorite club would be opening shortly and she could finally get some time away from Jeff. Christina knew that she shouldn't go out tonight; she had barely recovered from the other night and still couldn't remember what happened. Against her better judgment though, she pulled out a pair of tight pants and a revealing shirt.

"Leave. I've got to change."

Christina felt tingles go up her spine at his expression. The one raised eyebrow, a mischievous smile and confident eyes, the way he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame without a care in the world. The way Jeff carried himself, his whole demeanor; it all set red alarms off in her head. 'PREDITOR!,' the alarm bells screamed, 'RUN!'.

"Change? Why would you do that? You look breathtaking in your stained sweat pants and baggy long sleeve," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm and rolling his eyes when he said breathtaking.

Christina clenched the clothing in her fists tightly.

"I am going somewhere, so I need to change. Please get out of my room," she bit back.

Both of Jeff's patchy dark eyebrows went up, his eyes wider than usual. He placed his hands up in front of him as if a gun was pointing at him.

"Whoah. Princess, there is no need to be so vicious. I hadn't realized you were so feisty," he grinned.

If Christina could start fires with her mind, Jeff would be in flames. Despite not having that ability, she was sure that her face was as red as fire.

"Get out!"

"Okay, okay, okay. Only have to ask me once. Not like I wanna see your wrinkly ass anyways," he replied, eyes rolling as he turned around with a grin.

Christina marched over to her door and slammed it shut on Jeff's back. She ignored the familiar chuckle that came from the other side of the door as she began to strip.

"Fuck," she mumbled as the elastic from her sweat pants scraped over her thighs. Christina looked down and sighed, her face falling. There on her scared skin, were red scabs from the last time she hurt herself. In a few spots, the scabs had broken and bright red blood rose to the surface. How long ago did she cut herself this time? For all she knew, she could have cut herself yesterday and couldn't remember. It's not like it mattered though…

Christina used her sweat pants to soak up the small amount of blood before squeezing herself into the tight pants. She took off her bra and slipped into the shirt. The long sleeves covered her arms but left just under her belly button exposed. It drifted down to her waist in the back with frilled edges. Her breasts were pushed together and after adjusting it some, they almost jumped out of the shirt. Christina went into the bathroom and took her blonde hair out of its ponytail. She began to brush the long knotted strands.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Christina glared over at her deranged house guest. How long had he been standing there? She set her hair brush down and grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste.

"Where I go is none of your business," Christina replied before putting the toothbrush in her mouth. Instantly, she regretted her statement. Jeff's cocky grin turned dark. He scowled at her, his eyes furious. He radiated fury, the dim bathroom light outlining his hard features.

"It is when you come home drunk off your ass and can't stand up."

Christina ignored the voice in her head telling her to be submissive. The voice screamed at her to apologize and cower like she had done all her life, but she ignored it. Jeff was a psychotic serial killer that had been keeping her alive for seemingly his own amusement. She shouldn't stand up to him or challenge him, but something inside her was being set on fire. The longer his presence occupied her space, it seemed to light a match and send her nerves up into flames. Flames that she didn't think she was capable of.

Christina's face was red with anger as she tore the tooth brush out of her mouth and spit in the sink before turning to face Jeff.

"So you were here when I came home! You know what happened and aren't telling me! What the fuck does it matter what I do or where I go to you anyways! I don't want you here! I am sick of having to make you food that you say is disgusting and clean up after you and try to ignore when you reek of death and are covered in blood! Why won't you leave me alone!"

There was silence, and then Christina's eyes went wide. Jeff's face was hard as stone.

"I… I'm so sorry," she whispered, quickly trying to repair the inevitable damage. Would he kill her now? Was he going to torture her? Or was he going to do something worse?

Christina began to shiver as Jeff's head lowered, his thick locks falling in front of his eyes. The room seemed to darken around her despite the bright bathroom light. Her breathing quickened as her mind raced. In the silence, she swore she could hear Jeff's heavy breaths, slow and deep.

Christina screamed and fell, her hands going to cover her head. She was shaking and crying. Jeff hadn't punched the wall next to the door, it was her father. Her father was standing above her, grumbling under his breath. Christina began to beg. She begged him to leave her alone, to go away, and to stop hurting her. She cried out, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. His predatory growl echoed inside her head.

Her body jumped at the sound of a door slamming. Then… silence. Christina slowly lowered her arms that were shielding her head. Cautiously, she raised her head and looked up. Her father was not standing in the doorway, no one was there. Christina looked to the bathroom wall next to the door. A hole was in her wall, the hole went all the way through and she could see into the hallway.

The woman continued to shiver as she stood up and quietly stepped out of her bathroom. No one was there. Her father had never been there. Jeff. It was Jeff who had been here. It was Jeff who had spun around and punched the wall. Where was he? Christina walked into the living area and looked around. Various trash littered the stained carpet, a few crushed cans around 'Jeff's' chair. There were cups, silverware, and a few other dishes in the sink. Crumbs reside on the counters and a few familiar bugs crawled around. Why was she living in this place? It was no better than the shit hole she had grown up in. What was she doing with her life?

Christina left the disgusting place as memories leaked from her eyes. She didn't want to think about her apartment. She didn't want to think about how it was practically identical to the one she grew up in.

Christina walked down the dark streets.

She didn't want to think about how this city was no different than the one she was scared to walk down as a child. She didn't want to remember her father. She didn't want to remember her family.

Christina walked into her favorite club.

She didn't want to remember the lonely days or the terrifying nights. She didn't want to think about how she had turned into everything her father had always said she would. She didn't want to think about how pathetic her sad, little life was.

Christina made her way through the dancing people and down the back hall.

She didn't want to think about her life. She didn't want to think about her home. She didn't want to keep living this life. She wanted to forget.

Christina spoke softly to the man standing in front of a dark door. He nodded, knocked on the door twice, and opened it for her. Christina walked into the room and observed her surroundings. Four men and two women sat in chairs and on a sofa around a table. On the table there were various items, the most prominent being money, white powder, and needles.

.o.o.o.

Her body was sore and bent in uncomfortable angles. Her head and neck was the worst of all her pain though. Groggily, Christina began to sit up, much to her body's discomfort.

"What… what happened…" She mumbled to herself and reached for her head. The woman looked around her. She was in her home, sitting in her living room chair. At least she was in familiar territory. Wait… in her living room chair?

Christina jumped up and instantly fell due to the world spinning. She was so dizzy. Where was Jeff? What day was it? Christina groaned out in pain and using the chair to pull herself up, she stood. The apartment looked as it did last night, or the other night, or a few days ago? She couldn't remember when she had last been in her house. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she remember anything?

Christina made her way into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water from the sink. One cup. Two cups. Three cups. She drank six cups of water before finally stopping. Her body was jumping inside itself. Her head pounded like a drum.

'Think. Think. Think. What is the last thing you remember?! There has to be something. You are so stupid!' Christina chided inside herself.

Jeff. She remembered Jeff. He was mad at her. He had been like a bored child, annoying her constantly when she had done laundry early in the day. Then he got mad at her when they were home.

Christina hobbled down the hall and towards the bathroom. She pulled her tight pants down and sat, needing to relieve herself. Her eyes wandered around as continued to try and remember something. Then… the door caught her eye. Well, not exactly the door. It was the wall next to the door.

A hole. There was a large hole in the wall that went all the way through.

"What… what happened?"

Christina washed her hands and went into her bedroom.

Her room was a mess. Her clothes were scattered all around the room, the dresser drawers on the floor. The sheets and blankets were ripped and pulled from her mattress. Christina fell to her knees and held herself.

.o.o.o.

It had been a week. One full week with no sign of Jeff, and it was starting to scare her. Christina found herself sitting on the floor, staring at the living room chair that he had claimed. She had cleaned up as much of the home that was possible, but everything still felt wrong. Something was seriously off. Every time Christina heard footsteps in the outside hall, her skin tingled, her spine jumped, and her heart pounded against her chest. And every time that the steps went past her door, Christina's shoulders fell, her mind went blank, and her eyes drooped.

It had become a daily habit of hers, sitting in the front area of her home; waiting. The woman had repeatedly pondered what she was truly waiting for. Sometimes she thought she was sitting and just waiting for the time to pass. The world around her felt so strange and wrong, and she couldn't decide on what was the problem. Other times she thought she was waiting for Jeff to come back and to sit in his chair and tell her to make food. She was waiting to be ready to help him the moment of his return. Then she would sometimes have this realization that maybe… maybe she was waiting for her death.

Regardless of what she was waiting for, Christina spent a majority of her time at home sitting… sitting and waiting. Then, the best thing happened.

It was on her every-other day walk around her town. She would check the places she had applied to and then apply to others. The last place on her stop was Burger King and she wasn't feeling too confident. The tired woman walked into the busy fast-food restaurant and walked up to the front counter and stood to the side patiently.

"Hi, how can I help you?"

Christina tried her best to smile, "My name is Christina. I've applied for a job here."

"One moment, let me get the manager."

Christina steadied herself, focusing on breathing slowly and evenly. A few minutes later she was sitting at one of the tables across from one of the three managers. Five minutes later, she was signing papers. One hour later, she was getting ready to go dancing and drinking to congratulate herself.

.o.o.o.

Christina danced to the heavy bass flooding through her system. Sweaty bodies were all around her, most of them intoxicated as well. Her eyes were closed and she danced, a large smile on her face. Two weeks. She had been working for two full weeks with minor mistakes. Every day she had worked a full eight hour shift, came home, showered, and went to bed; tomorrow though she had a day off, so tonight she was going to indulge herself.

Tight lacy shorts covered her scarred thighs, all recent wounds healed. She hadn't harmed herself in some time and despite the urges to do so, it was a good thing. Her scars though were hard to see in the dim lighting and the black lacy shorts she wore, effectively hiding her pain from anyone admiring her body. It wasn't as if she didn't want to, her urges seemed to be at an all time high since the incident with Jeff… the incident she had been desperately trying not to think about. No, she simply didn't have the energy to indulge in that habit of hers. A revealing black crop top with long sleeves made of lace covered her arms. The lacey design covered her stomach, leaving her midriff to be desired and her lower back to be admired.

Christina's hair was up in a tight pony tail with only a few shorter strands hanging down to cup her thin face. She had taken to wearing the blonde locks in such a style so it would not interfere with her cleaning and working. Her home was still as barren of furniture and comfort as always, but it was much cleaner than before. She had scrubbed and scraped the floors, walls, counters, tub, and every nook and cranny she came across. Despite the damage the apartment had, not a spot of mold or dirt would be found in it now.

Her legs burned as they moved, still not adjusted to the constant strain they were under. Christina was a diligent worker, trying her best to always be moving and doing something, even as minimal as washing tables. The only time she sat after waking up was on her break and when she finally laid down to sleep. And now, she was celebrating.

The pain in her legs was ignored and she sensually moved her body, surely catching the eyes of many lone men in the vicinity. Christina made sure to dance only at the edge of the group of people, in front of the bar as well. This way she would be easily spotted and hopefully one of her admirers would join her. Her arms rose above her head as she smiled sweetly to the bar, still keeping her eyes closed as her jiggling breasts drew attention to themselves. It was perfect. And the best part of it all? Ecstasy was flowing through her veins, making everything so much more intense. Her body felt slightly numb but in a rush. Her mind was distracted yet open. The lighters were brighter, the sounds were vibrant, and the sensation of silk and lace on her body was much more intense and soothing. It was all perfect. She was celebrating. This time though, she made sure to not take too much. Christina wanted to remember this night of celebration, but she wanted to feel everything to the fullest.

She had begun to ignore the anger at herself for doing drugs, just as her father had. Christina wasn't her father, she told herself, and she wasn't going to get addicted. Her money was well spent when she got the glorious white powder into her system, and she wasn't endangering anyone else.

Christina turned her body to the rhythm of the music, causing her butt to bounce towards the men at the bar.

No, she wasn't endangering anyone else. That was the biggest reason why she was not her father, despite enjoying the sensation the drugs caused. They also numbed her emotions, or at least made it easier to ignore the raging storm that constantly tore her mind and heart apart.

Calloused hands slid around her waist, going under the lace and gripping her midriff. She felt pressure on her ass as the man pushed himself against her. He began to lick and nibble on her earlobe, causing her to shiver in excitement from the feeling. It was a secret of hers that she never told any of the men she was with, but Christina loved it when her ears were paid attention to.

"You're far too beautiful to be all by yourself," a husky voice whispered into her ear.

Christina pushed herself up against the man's front, causing him to chuckle lightly as she danced against him.

"Then you should accompany me," she replied back in a silky smooth voice.

"It would be my pleasure," was his reply.

They danced for a short time before she felt herself being casually led to the exit of the club. Christina followed gladly, looking forward to any plans this man had of making her night even better. Soon they were in the cold night air and Christina felt hard bricks on her open back as she was pushed against the building. Lips greeted hers and a tongue entered her mouth soon after. Christina responded positively as she wrapped her arms around the man.

"Got anywhere close we can go?"

Christina grinned into his kiss.

"Yeah, my place," she replied.

Christina held his hand as she walked down the dirty streets to her apartment building. The man followed without complaint. She didn't even know his name, but she didn't need to. He would likely be gone by the time she woke up tomorrow evening, and she didn't have any money for him to steal. She hid it all in a hole in her mattress under her bed.

They walked up the stairs, him behind her so he could get a nice view of her plump butt. Christina's veins were jumping with excitement, her skin covered in goose bumps. Celebrating, that's what she told herself. It was all okay because she was celebrating.

Click

Christina opened the door to her apartment easily, the man's hands holding her hips. She gave a little shake to entertain him as she stepped into the dark apartment. Instantly she was pushed up against the wall, his lips on hers. Christina giggled into the kiss, melting into him.

And then…

Crimson.

Christina gasped out in fright, her eyes wide and her limbs frozen. The bulky man fell against her body and slid down, leaving a trail of blood as he fell to the floor. Christina's sharp breathing was the only sound after the soft thud of the body finally falling into a heap on the floor. Her arms were still frozen in mid air, giving the appearance that they were wrapped around and invisible body.

Jeff stood in front of her, his knife covered with blood and his sweatshirt drenched in old and new blood. He reeked of grime, sweat, blood, and death. His hair was dirty and matted again as it fell in front of his face. Despite the darkness shielding his face, Christina knew that the permanent smile was practically growling.

"J-Jeff…"

The killer looked up slowly, his eyes showing through the darkness. Christina shivered from his eyes, eyes full of anger… and something else.

"Why," Christina mumbled to him. Jeff lowered his arm, the bloody knife dripped onto the clean floor, staining it once again. "Why?"

"You'll have to be more specific than that Chrissy. I get asked why on a regular basis with no indication of what they are asking the reason for. It does get rather confusing sometimes."

Jeff's voice was gruff and slightly strained, and despite making jabs at her as usual, there seemed to be no amusement in his tone.

"You left," she began slowly, anger beginning to bubble just below the surface, "You left and were gone. I thought I was finally rid of you… I've… I've got a job and… and I've cleaned up…"

Jeff was silent before speaking again, "yeah, the place looks nice. I almost didn't recognize it."

Christina's face hardened. She wasn't scared, and deep down that worried her. She wasn't scared of Jeff at all, nor of the fact he had just killed someone right in front of her and their blood was on her clothes. She wasn't scared at all. No. Christina was angry.

"You leave for weeks and then just show up one night when I was celebrating! And you kill my entertainment! Who do you think you are?!"

Jeff chuckled, "I knew there was a reason for you to look so nice. I knew you weren't just fucking another random guy like a slut."

Christina completely overlooked the fact that he had complimented her, instead her insides flared up at the word 'slut'. A dormant volcano resided in her, and Jeff had a habit of making it explode.

The sound of flesh smacking flesh echoed in the apartment. Jeff's head was thrown to the side and Christina's hand was stinging. The burning sensation that was flooding her hand was almost as bad as the same painful one in her exhausted legs.

Christina's breaths came in slow, shallow gasps. Part of her wanted to beg for forgiveness and apologize for the awful thing she had just done. The other part of her was excited. It was excited, infuriated, and thrilled. Just below her skin there was a jumping feeling as her whole body responded to her emotions. Adrenaline seeped through her body. She had slapped him. She had truly, actually, really slapped him. Christina had finally stood up for herself, and… she liked it. This feeling of power… authority. However minor it was… she liked it.

Jeff slowly turned back to her, the large grin on his face practically stretching from ear to ear.

"You're getting feisty Christina."

The empowered woman stared at him, her mouth agape. This wasn't what she had expected. Christina had expected him to lash out at her or at least threaten her. This though? It was as if he found the whole situation amusing, as if it pleased him.

"Get lost Jeff," Christina growled as she crossed her arms over her chest.

The intruder only chuckled, "No, I don't think I will."

"And why is that," she snapped.

Jeff's eyes glinted with mischief and amusement, his grin becoming more sly. He tilted his head slightly before speaking in a low hum.

"Because I think you like me here."

"And what in the world would make you think that?!"

"I think you missed me while I was gone in fact. Not knowing where I was or what I was doing. Were you worried about me Chrissy? Did the thought of me getting harmed keep you up at night?"

Christina's cheeks went up in flames, her eyes hard but unable to hide any of her inner emotions and thoughts. He was mocking her, and they both knew it. And although Christina didn't want to admit it, she knew that part of what he was saying was true.

"I don't want you here," Christina responded quietly.

"Don't lie to yourself sweetie. You're lonely without me."

Christina looked at the body on the floor. He was a rather handsome man, in his mid thirties probably. He might have had dreams or goals, maybe a family somewhere. None of that mattered anymore though. He was dead. He hadn't done anything wrong though. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"We got to take care of him," she mumbled.

Christina's head snapped up at Jeff's cackling.

"We? You mean… the both of us?"

Jeff continued to laugh at Christina's confused face. Slowly, a grin formed on his lips.

"Well Princess, if you really want to help me hide a body, then be my guess."

Jeff cackled some more as Christina's eyes widened. She didn't mean it like that!

"No, no, no, no," The flustered woman began as she shook her head, "You hide the body. You killed it."

Jeff spoke between fits of laughter, " 'the body'? When did 'he' become 'it'. Chrissy, you have got to make up your mind."

Warmth flooded her cheeks at his teasing. She didn't even know why she was so flustered instead of scared or upset like she should be. It wasn't the first time she had seen a dead body, or had a person killed in front of her, but shouldn't she be at least… a tiny bit distressed? A human… a person had just been murdered in cold blood in front of her. She had the man's blood on her own clothes. Yet all she felt was embarrassment, and anger.

"Would you-… Just-…. Hide the body Jeff!"

Jeff stopped laughing and stared at her, his face as serious as it could be with a permanent smile. Despite praying that her neighbors didn't hear her yell, Christina didn't back down. She stared at Jeff, determination in her eyes, a pout on her lips, and color dusting her cheeks.

"You gunna help me Princess?"

The woman's composure didn't falter as she locked eyes with the killer. His serious gazes were always intense and seemed to affect Christina far more than his maniacal laughter ever did. She wanted to shiver and look away from his hold on her eyes, but refused to.

"Fine."

.o.o.o.

Berger King is spelled that way because I don't want to get into any copy right trouble.

First I want to say sorry for all the time skips and if that caused any confusion. I've had trouble writing this chapter. This chapter was supposed to be a sort of 'transition' chapter into the next part of this story. I apologize if I didn't write it out correctly and I am open to advice on how I could have written this chapter better!

I've been leaving a trail of foreshadowing that –in my opinion- is very obvious. Let me know if you've caught it and what you think is going to happen… or did happen! If you have any ideas for the next chapters, let me know too! I love the feedback and I want you all to feel as though you have a part in writing this story.

The song is "Just Like Fire By Pink". I had trouble picking the song to match this chapter. The other songs I considered for this chapter were "Get Lucky By Daft Punk", "One Too Many By Three Days Grace", "Skin and Bones By Marianas Trench", and "Coming Down By The Dum Dum Girls". I decided on Just Like Fire because it is an upbeat song with multiple different meanings and symbolism that I feel goes with this chapter. Christina is giving into drugs and fighting herself. She feels put down by society and is dealing with the realization that she is at the bottom of the food chain. Jeff and her got into a fight and she doesn't was to face how she is becoming numb to Jeff's habit of murder and is finding his company pleasing. She is trying to run from her problems and at the same time trying to get ahead in her life. I imagine this song playing when Christina was dancing in the club when she was celebrating.