They buried Jacob in the morning. Billy burned the king of clubs left on the corpse's chest.
[...]
The lake's surface was placid. Billy sighed and lowered down his backpack.
"Here we are," he quietly said. Winnifred nodded, then began assembling the fire. Billy took off his jacket and began setting up the tents. His tattoo caught Winnifred's eye. An ace. For a moment, Winnifred stared at it, before looking away.
It was the softest evening ever. The inflated canoe gently shook on the water, lulled by the tender ripples. Winnifred lay down next to Billy, his strong hand over her shoulders. Her eyes wandered to the tranquil scenery, the pure white mountains in the distance, the fresh pine trees, and the clear, aquamarine water.
"Billy," she quietly said.
"Mmh?"
"If this was your last day, what would you do?"
Billy sadly chuckled and brought the cigarette up to his mouth.
"It's time for the ace, isn't it?"
Winnifred glanced up at him. Billy looked down at her with a smile. But Winnifred felt his chest tremble under her hand. Billy looked up into the sky.
"I don't know, Freddie. I probably won't think about it, and enjoy my life as best as I can."
Winnifred unevenly exhaled and closed her tired eye lids. She felt Billy's fingers tighten on her shoulder.
"What would you do, bud?"
Winnifred opened her eyes. "I would do the same."
Winnifred abruptly woke up. The wind quietly shivered outside the tent. Winnifred glanced over her shoulder.
"Billy?" The man lying back to her didn't answer. Winnifred decided not to disturb him and quietly walked out of the tent. The night was gorgeous. The moon reflected in the tranquil waters, the snow on the mountains shimmering in the pale moonlight. Winnifred rubbed her arms, keeping herself warm, and walked over to the lake. There was a sound of splashing water. It was chilly. Winnifred wiped her fingers on her nightgown and started walking to the tent. Suddenly, something in the dirt, right next to the rocks at the lake's banks, caught her eye. Winnifred kneeled down and picked up a card. Dread paralyzed her top to bottom. Slowly, she wiped the dirt off its surface. The joker smiled back at her. And then, she heard a familiar, quiet voice.
"Turn around."
Winnifred felt the burning sweat press the hair down to her neck. Her kneecaps treacherously shook. Winnifred, twigs snapping under her feet, slowly turned around.
A tall, slightly hunched, figure watched her from the shadows of the underbrush. Winnifred's breathing quickened. She couldn't see his face.
The figure expectantly waited. Winnifred tensely licked her lips with the corner of her tongue. The water in the lake quietly splashed along the bank.
"I-I can't see you, Heath."
The figure tilted his head.
"Why do you need to see me?" The voice was insinuating, almost testing if she could give the right answer. Winnifred felt a scorching stream of sweat streak between her shoulder blades and down her back.
"Because I didn't see you for a long time."
Heath wordlessly stepped out of the shadows. Winnifred's fingers instantly clutched the card, crushing the joker's smile. Heath continued approaching her, the ground crackling under his steps. He was smiling, the terrifying, wide grin starkly contrasting with the white paint. Heath stopped a few inches in front of Winnifred. Up close, he wasn't smiling. His dark, unreadable eyes were searching Winnifred' face. It was frozen. Then, it cracked. A bit mechanically, like a poorly-oiled robot, Winnifred slowly took a step forward, hands wavering, before wrapping his broad shoulders with her hands. Heath wordlessly hugged her back, sensing her uneven breath on his ear and trembling fingers, barely touching his coat. Slowly and carefully, he pulled out a small pocket knife from his jacket and brought it up to Winnifred's side. Her hands tightened around his neck, body tensing. Heath tried to ignore the dripping paint on his neck and refocused on Winnifred. No man no problem. They'll kill her, kill her worse than him. His dry lips cracked open.
"Scared?"
"Very."
Heath's fingers dug into her hair, holding on to them as if holding to a life-line. The sweat from Winnifred's palms soaked into his shirt, dampening his shoulders.
"Please don't kill us," she coarsely breathed out. Heath glumly laughed, knife shivering in his hand. Mark, Riley, Sammy, Charlotte, Jacob, Billy, Mark, Riley, Sammy, Charlotte, Jacob, Billy, Mark, Riley….
"A bit too late for that." ….Jacob, Billy, Winnifred. She was quiet for a while, not able to move. He wasn't able either.
"What's with the costume?"
"You don't like it?" Heath forced to lift his eyebrows and looked at Winnifred. Her face was absolutely white, blue eyes opaque.
"I hate it."
Heath pulled away from her, but didn't let go. Winnifred's eyes watered, afraid that if she'll blink, she'll trigger the blade at her side.
"Did they do this to you?" she quietly asked. Heath raised his eyebrows and pointed on his scars.
"No, this." Winnifred lifted up the crumpled card. "Why did you kill them?"
Heath's eyes traveled around her face with agony, arms tensing around her waist.
"Why did you kill them?" She repeated, voice trembling. She won't understand, she will never understand ... and she was so scared, scared to death… his arm fell and he tucked the knife away into his pocket. Winnifred wordlessly watched as Heath turned around and walked away into the shadow of the thicket. There was a sound of crackling wood under boots. The sound was there for a moment, before growing fainter and fainter until it disappeared completely. Heath was gone.
A/N: There it is guys, the end of Part 3! (Don't worry, there'll be an explanation on why the hell Heath went on a killing streak...)
Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who are following, reviewing, and reading this fanfiction, you keep me writing, and I just want to wish you the best in the coming New Year!
Merry (Belated) Christmas everyone and Happy Holidays! Five (counting today) days till 2020!