The trip to the hospital felt like one of the longest trips I had ever done, perhaps it had to do with the blood loss or just the sheer exhaustion. On the plus side, it gave me time to think of a more believable story about what happened. I doubted anyone would believe me if I said 'Jeff the Killer' had attacked me. By the time I stumbled into the hospital, I was extremely pale and weak, barely even able to stand. The nurses rushed me in and quickly got me stable. Naturally, they asked me a million questions on what happened. So I stretched the truth; telling them that I woke in the middle of the night, went for a walk and was attacked by someone, leaving Jeff unnamed. For now, they bought the story and let me rest.
I woke only a few hours later to hearing my father yelling, making me sit up in the hospital bed. My hand was stitched up and bandaged but I felt no pain at the moment. Without thinking, I got out of bed, wanting to get out of the hospital. Immediately, I stumbled and grabbed onto the IV drip to steady myself but I only continued to fall and caused the IV to come crashing down with me.
My father's yelling stopped and they burst into the room, my dad quickly picked me up and put me back on the bed.
"What are you doing? You shouldn't be moving around yet." My dad snapped at me, but I tried to get off the bed again.
"No...No I can't stay here. I have to go home-" My voiced sounded strange to me, almost slow. It was like I was listening to a recording of myself.
"Miss, please, you are heavily medicated, moving around is dangerous to your health." The doctor informed me. I couldn't help but laugh and once I started I couldn't stop. They both looked at me like I was insane and I felt as if I was.
"You have no idea how much danger I am in." I giggled in a somewhat ominous voice at them as my father pushed me back down onto my back, trying to make me lay down. As I struggled I get back up I couldn't hold back even more giggles, not fully understanding why I was laughing. But the idea that they thought a bit of medication was dangerous when I had a killer chasing after me seemed silly, hilarious actually.
"Is this normal?" My father asked with a worried expression.
"This kind of behavior can be typical with patients on heavy amounts of the medication and a traumatic experience. If the behavior remains for a longer then a week however, bring her back and we can put her into rehabilitation and giver her a psychological test."
Those words sounded so familiar, why? I could remember hearing it somewhere but where? My giggling paused as I tried to recall my memories. Then it hit me, I could feel my lips tug into a smile, the doctors in Jeff's story said something similar like this about Jeff. The similarity made my eyes tear up and flow freely, streaking my cheeks again but I erupted in laughter again. Covering my face, I tried to hide my giggling smile and shook my head. I screamed and thrashed, trying to stop the laughter. As the doctor and the nurses held me down, I felt a tiny prick of a needle and my world again faded into darkness.
They kept me in that blasted hospital for a few days, making me regret coming here. Along with the check ups and physical therapy, they made a mandatory requirement for me to speak to a therapist. I didn't say anything though, even if I did, they would probably think I was insane and lock me away. So I told them what they wanted to hear. I listened and did everything I was told, wanting out of this place. Though I had a sinking feeling this wouldn't be the last time I would be here.
My father visited me everyday, some days I swore he slept in the lobby just so he would be there when I woke up. At first, he was angry, yelling at me for not waking him and asking him to take me to the hospital. I couldn't even get two words in, my dad didn't want to hear it. But after some time, he calmed and simply sat there in the room with me, silent. I kept glancing up him, unsure what to say. I was contemplating if I should ask if he knew the truth or not. I knew the car crash was a lie, but is that what everyone told my father or was that what he was told to tell me?
After what seemed like an eternity, he looked up at me and we make eye contact. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it just as quickly. After a moment, he stood, walked over and gently stroked my hair, leaning down he kissed the top of my head.
"I love you sweetheart. I am glad you're ok." But it sounds more like 'I love you but I'm too angry to be around you.' Before I can reply, he left the room. I watch him walk away and disappear down the hall and feel my lip tremble. My eyes water and I looked away, knowing that my father didn't believe my story. He knew I was lying and he felt like I didn't trust him enough to tell him. How could I? A "fictional" character is playing a game of cat and mouse with me.
Saddened, I rolled over and sobbed, crying into my pillow. Jeff was literally tearing my life apart and there was nothing I could do. I sobbed for a while, letting it all out. After a bit, I forced myself to stop crying, my eyes burning, nose dripping and throat feeling swollen, making it hard to breath and even swallow. Taking a deep breath, I looked at the clock, my father had been gone for hours. Jeff had broken my father and I apart, and I wasn't sure if I could fix it. I gritted my teeth and balled my fists, feeling angry again.
"Fuck you Jeff." I spat.
Finally I was released on the 5th day on the conditions I return for therapy and check ups. I agreed but I already knew I wasn't coming back unless I was dead or damn near close to it. Though at this point, I wasn't sure exactly how long that would be.
I sat outside the hospital in the parking lot. I didn't want to be inside. Despite my gloomy state and appearance, it was a bright, warm day, making me stand and wonder around the grounds. Passing by the hospital windows, I immediately stopped and watched myself. I frowned. I looked horrible.
Tangled hair, pale skin, dark bags under my eyes and covered in both fresh and old bruises and scars. Even my clothes seemed so dark, at least compared to my usual attire to what I used to wear. Wearing a over sized dark turtle neck grey sweater and black skinny jeans, I looked liked hell. Absentmindedly, I traced my fingers over the scar on my cheek. It had healed but was that bright pink color that all new scars get when they are fresh. Strangely enough, I puffed out my cheek, poking and scratching at the scar.
A sudden bang made me yelp and my knees buckled, causing me to collapse to the ground. I expecting to see Jeff standing there, with his dark eyes staring at me. As if on cue, I heard laughter, making me cover my ears and let out a scream, praying that someone was around to save me. But when the laughter suddenly stopped and I could hear someone yelling out, I opened my eyes. Sitting up, stared at the window again. Now I could see several worried faces looking back at me through the window that I hadn't realized had been watching me.
"Are you alright?" Looking up, I saw it was a nurse. I ignored her as she tried to help me up, I only slapped her hand away, infuriated that someone would purposely scare me like that. "They didn't mean it sweetheart, they were just trying to be funny." I gritted my teeth and refrained from punching the nurse in the face. I wasn't sure why I was angry at her, I was probably angry in general and she was just a close target. I briefly wondered if that's how Jeff chose his victims before shaking my head at the thought.
When the nurse tried to pull me into an embrace, I lashed out and all but snarled at her, tears gathering in my eyes, making it hard to see.
"Don't touch me!" Immediately she pulled away with a look of fright, flinching as if I was going to hit her. It was only then that I noticed my fists balled so tightly that my knuckles were white. Rather than apologizing and returning to my usual submissive state, I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Walking away, I went back to the parking lot and stood right by the gate, still in a foul mood.
Minutes later, I was surprised to see my brother pulling up rather than my father, hearing his music blasting full volume from outside the car. Getting in, I slumped in my seat and closed my eyes. Realizing I had a killer headache, I reached over and crank the volume way down, not caring if my brother didn't like it.
"Where's dad?" I asked nonchalantly.
"He was sleeping, so I came to pick you up." Chewing my lip, I nodded. "You look like shit." He said with a playful but cautious grin. Looking over, I opened my mouth to snap at him, but that goofy grin on his just made me roll my eyes with a small smile tugging at my own lips.
"Yeah."
Nothing else was said during most of the ride, besides the occasional time my brother purposely broke into song and cracked a dumb face. Each time, he managed to break me from the dark cloud looming over my head and wring out a few drops of happiness. By the time we got home, the music was turned back up and we were both singing to the song.
Walking in, we were quiet, just in case our father was still sleeping. But when I heard him call out to us, my heart sank, feeling a wave of guilt and dread wash over me. Was he still angry? I stood there almost trembling, unsure what to do. That was, until my father came into view, smiling and welcoming me with a warm embrace. Hesitating, I wrapped my arms around him before slowly crumbling and breaking into a sob.
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry." I repeated over and over, holding onto him tightly, feeling safe and protected, almost as if even Jeff couldn't hurt me now. My father simply hushed me, not saying a word. After a few minutes, I pulled away, unable to breath. My father held my arms, rubbing them in comfort and gave me a teary red eyed smile.
"Why don't you take a relaxing bath?" He suggested, I nodded taking a deep breath. Heading to the bathroom, I was surprised by my father's loving greeting. I was so sure Jeff had broken us apart, that nothing could fix it.
As I stepped into the bath, I couldn't help but think of Jeff. Is that was he was trying to do, or was just the stress making me drive away everyone. Closing my eyes, I reminisced about before Jeff came into my life, how obsessed I was over this killer. I laughed lightly at myself as I scrubbed my hair about how naive I was. I could even remember the times of attraction, where I had day dreamed of him coming into my house, sometimes even ravaging me in my bed. I covered my face in embarrassment, my whole body burning. How could I have ever wanted that?
Letting my hands slid into the hot bath water, I sunk into the water, rinsing away the soap from my hair. Staring at the ceiling, I took a deep breath, frustrated with myself, because deep down, part of me still a fan of this monster. I could only guess that it was because I spent so long fantasizing about him, pretending that it was possible to be with him, perhaps even...loved, if I could call it that, that even now, my brain hadn't made the connection that the Jeff I had dreamed about and the one trying to kill me were one and the same. As I laid there thinking, the warm water washing away my stress, aches and pains, I slowly drifted off to sleep.
I woke with a start, sputtering out now freezing cold water, hearing an aggressive knock on the door. Gasping and coughing, I hung my torso over the end of the tub, coughing up water.
"I'm awake!" I called out, hearing my father saying something I didn't understand as I tried draining the water from my ears. "Ok." I replied, not knowing what I had agreed to. I then heard my father walk away, head to his room and the door close, making me assume he was heading to bed. Sighing, I got up and dried myself, letting the water drain away as I wrapped a towel around my now shivering body.
Heading to my room, I locked my door and let the towel drop, sitting on my bed nude. I grabbed my phone, frowning when I saw no messages after literally days of me being gone. Letting my phone flop onto my mattress, I fall sideways onto my pillow. To my surprise, my face hit a sheet of paper which was laying on my pillow. Sitting up, I pulled the now wet paper from my face, seeing why it was there.
My heart stopped and my breath caught in my throat. In very crude and poor hand writing was a note.
"Meet me at the camp ground." No signature, no any indication of who it was, but I immediately knew. What frightened me more was that this meant Jeff somehow got into my house, unnoticed, made it to my room and back out, while my family was still here. And I had no idea how long the note had been here, could have been days or even hours, I had no idea.
A familiar feeling crept up my spine, this was eerily similar to back when we first met. I determined if I wanted to go or not. It didn't take me long to decide to get dressed and head out to meet him, reasoning it was better to keep him as far away from my father and brother as I possibly could.
Not caring on what I looked like, I put back on my over sized turtle neck and black skinny jeans. I didn't even bother with socks as I slipped on my shoes and walked out the door. Stepping outside, it was almost dark, making me realize how long I actually had slept in the bath for. But I continued on, walking through partly melted and refrozen snow. I wish spring would just hurry up and melt all of it away.
When I arrived, my feet were soaked and freezing but I ignored it, knowing Jeff was probably around. No sooner had I thought that, I heard a distinct laugh, but rather than from behind me, it was from above. Looking up, there he was. Jeff was casually leaning back in a tree, the moon behind him, his usual crazed look on his face. He brought a hand up to his mouth, taking a long drag on his cigarette, the smoke wheezing out from his cut cheeks. I couldn't help but notice this knife in his other hand, casually resting on his brought up knee.
"'bout fucking time." Jeff said with a smile. Strangely enough, he didn't move from his spot, though his one hand did reach down, his open palm out like he was offering me his hand but he had a half smoked cigarette between his fingers. "Smoke?" He offered. I hesitated, I smoked occasion, mainly with friends, but I didn't consider myself a smoker. Only seconds passed before I took the burning butt from his filthy hand and took a drag. Holding in the smoke, I coughed slightly before blowing it out. I wasn't sure if this was his way of trying to corrupt me or him actually doing something nice. Well, nice for Jeff's standards. I handed the cigarette back and he took another long puff.
"Still look like a fine piece if shit." Jeff laughed at the mix of insult and complement. I rolled my eyes at the comment.
"Hilarious." I replied in a snippy tone. Jeff leaned forward but remained in the tree, tossing away the still burning cancer stick. Even though Jeff always smiled, I could see a genuine yet psychotic smile behind his 'handmade' one.
"Have fun at hospital bitch?" He asked casually, making me grit my teeth. He chuckled at my response. "Personally, I thought our date was more fun but what ever floats your boat." Sudden images of the night burst into my head, but rather than of the hand stabbing, it was when he had me pinned and was grinding against me. I could feel my face heat up and my stomach tighten at the memory.
Jumping from the tree, he landed in front of me, just about losting his balance on the partly frozen snow that rested on the ground. But he was quick to recover and loom over me again, smiling darkly.
"Let's have another date." His voice was both playful and darkly sinister, causing my to shiver. "I'll take that as a yes." I didn't even have time to yell out when he grabbed my face, slamming my head into the tree, causing an instant headache that was so bad I saw stars. His dirty hand was covering my mouth and nose, making it so I was unable to breath. I clawed and gripped at his arm, trying to pry him loose. "Relax, you know I'm not going to kill you...well, not now." Jeff whispered in my ear, causing me to suddenly become infuriated and bite down on his palm, hard.
Immediately his hand pulled back, followed by cursing. Rather than run, I spat before taking a gasp of fresh air, glaring, perhaps almost snarling at him. Jeffs face whipped up at me with a flash of anger. Yet he paused, seeing my own staring back at him, he watched me for a moment before he broke into a huge grin. I only lifted a brow, confused why he wasn't trying to punish me for biting him.
"How did that feel?" He asked, causing my snarl to soften to an angry confused look.
"It fucking hurt asshole." I replied sharply, checking to see if my head was bleeding. Jeff groaned in frustration, shifting his knife to his other hand and pointed at me.
"Not that, the rage! The feeling of when you fought back!" He snapped. I stared at him for a moment. How did I feel about that? I recalled when I got angry back at the hospital as well. I wasn't much of someone to get angry, let alone get violent. It was a strange feeling. It made me feel guilty but satisfied at the same time. But there was no way I was going to admit that, not to Jeff.
"I don't know." I replied flatly. Jeff must have through me because he laughed, lifting his hand that I had bit.
"You sure about that?" He asked with a smug smile. I swallowed, I could clearly see I had bit him hard enough to leave a distinct bite mark, blood oozing from the punctured skin. I had to admit to myself, finally being the one to deal out the pain rather than receiving it felt great. Which worried me, immensely. Jeff sauntered over, putting his hands on either side of me, slightly leaning against the tree. I ignored him, temporally lost my thoughts, trying to reason why it felt good allowing myself to lose control to the point I got violent. I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts, I hardly noticed Jeff leaning down, his lips against my ear. "Tell me how good it felt to hurt someone." He whispered.
"I...I..." Stammering, I pulled back against the tree, trying to pull away from him. I wasn't going to admit it, not to him. He just pushed himself closer, his chest crushing mine, his face buried in my neck, my own in his shoulder. I could feel his dry lips on my skin, causing me to shiver a bit. I didn't want this, but my body was to his touch. It wasn't registering a psychotic killer, but a warm body, tender flesh against my own. It made my stomach tighten, legs weak and the urge to grip onto him. I hated it but the feeling was growing stronger.
"Tell me." He repeated, slightly more aggressive. Closing my eyes, I tried to drown him out, which was getting increasingly hard with him literally shoving his presence at me. "Tell me!" He snapped, yelling in my ear. Suddenly, another burst of anger shot up my spine, making me ball my fist and hit him as hard as I could in his stomach, winding him. Gasping, he fell to one knee, coughing and grasping his stomach.
My eyes widened as I stepped away, watching him writhing in pain. All the color and heat drained from my face, fear started forming in my stomach so hard and heavy, my arms felt numb and jittery. I didn't stick around for him to recover and take out his anger on me, not when I just got out of the hospital and I surely wasn't going to go back. Bolting across the grass, my heart was pounding, my body shook and I felt as if someone had zapped me with a tazer. Yet at the same time, I felt a rush I had never felt in my whole life. A thrill of doing something and avoiding to being caught. Like an intense game of tag, marco polo or...
Cat and mouse.