Chapter Text
When he left you behind, you knew a part of you went along with him.
You met Jed Olsen when you were a teenager and he was a young adult who managed to get a brand new job as a newspaper writer. Your neutral, introverted attitude reeked of family problems and mental issues that no amount of therapy could even try to cure, and maybe that's what got him to interact with you. It was hard to not want to be close to you when your smile was so beautiful it always was worth the effort to get it to appear, gentle eyes inviting everyone to stare at them forever. You had problems like everyone else, but the beauty underneath the mess was a perfect work of art.
Jed Olsen was seen by everyone as a modest and enthusiastic worker, but you saw through the mask almost immediately the first time you saw him in The Roseville Gazette Newspaper Building. You always sneered in distaste every time he tried to approach you with a friendly smile, disgusted by his fake personality. You wore a mask all the time, pretending to be someone else when people got close to you, so you learned to recognize when people lied and faked anything with frightening precision.
It was easy to spot a liar when your family was always pretending around you, after all.
You could still remember every time he tried to present himself to you, only for you to interrupt him and hiss in visible disgust. You were the young son of his boss, so you could get away with being mean towards every employee that tried to be rude or fake towards you. Your father never took your work in the Roseville Gazette seriously since he didn't love you, but you could say that at least he tried to be a decent paternal figure outside of closed doors by letting you do whatever the fuck you wanted. You never wanted to abuse the privilege you had, but when Olsen tried to get close to you, you couldn't help but lash out.
You weren't a brat, but you truly believed yourself to not be good underneath your issues. It was hard to be a good person when everything forced you to fake everything. You struggled to find a reason to be happy when in your old house you had to hide your passions and interests because "money was more important than happiness". Your family demanded too much out of you, so you adapted and learned how to pretend good enough until they believed you wanted the dull, stupid future they set up for you. And maybe you could learn to desire it too if you forced yourself enough. Find a cute girl to marry, be the boss of the company like Father wanted, be another boring face on the planet.
Fake it 'till you make it, you repeated yourself that phrase like a mantra. And while you didn't indeed make it, you made everyone believe that you did.
The mask you mastered made your co-workers think that you were just a quiet, introverted editor assistant with the potential of someday taking over the company. You were born to take hits and abuse like no other after all, so following your father's steps and work in the company he founded was just a natural thing to do to hide all the things left unsaid. It was easy to submit to every order, to obey without hesitation when the submission had been beaten constantly into your mask until you weren't unable to forget how to push back.
You never knew, but the personality hidden under your mask caught his attention like a bee and its honey. How could it not? He always saw you as this quiet, submissive kid who didn't hesitate to obey and lower his head, so for him to see your mask crack every time he tried to talk to you was a good surprise. You were smart enough to know that the perfect American role model personality that he was proud of faking with perfection was a lie. The newspaper writer himself knew that only a person with a meticulously made mask could recognize another.
What kind of person were you really, underneath that mask of yours? He wanted to find out, and there was only one way to have his way.
When he came to you one day with nothing but a confident ego and strong body language, Jed knew he finally gained your attention, even if it was just a little of it. One eyebrow of yours was raised in curious interest, the mouth that had been open with the mission to spell out profanities closing off almost immediately. Olsen was known for being a role model, an honest, enthusiastic clumsy person, so for him to approach you with nothing but confidence and a smirk gave you a small taste of his true face. That was what you wanted.
The interactions after the first one were a complicated war between a King against a Pawn on a chessboard. He tried to calculate what to say, what to do for you to open up to him like a flower in Spring, but his attempts were always quickly rejected if his fake persona managed to come out, no matter how small the slip up was. He couldn't help but be a little impressed every time you frowned and excused yourself out of his reach.
You were intelligent for a young teenager, but he was smarter. You were an obstacle meant to be conquered.
The idea of having the son of his boss eating at the palm of his hand was a tempting, achievable one. You were a wild card in the game Jed was fighting against the police. An all or nothing Joker he wished to abuse correctly. He could see his stay in Florida become larger if he managed to use you just right. The alibies you could give to cover him up with would be endless. The newspaper writer could already taste the freedom to stalk and murder as he pleased, and it was the sweetest flavor imaginable. Bitter with little sugar, like a hot coffee in the morning to wake him up to read the news about his recent murder.
You were the son of the Boss of the Roseville Gazette. You were allowed to do whatever the fuck you wanted. Using you was the correct decision. Make you fall in love with him, and cling to every word he would say was his plan.
He could stalk you to know what were your preferences, the kind of flowers you liked, your favorite horror movie -He already knew that one. He had seen you watch the Halloween franchise while working. He could admit you had great taste-, he had everything planned to make you depend on him, to make your mind think of nothing but him.
It would be a big ego boost to have a reserved, masked person to let go of their walls for someone like him. He could see everything that he was planning come to fruition. He couldn't help but lick his lip every time the thoughts got into his head.
So he did so. Jed stalked you countless nights, learning everything he could about you for him to use accordingly. He saw that you lived in the small hidden basement of the newspaper building. Jed supposed it was because your relationship with your mother was irreparable. You probably got kicked out if his gut calling was correct. It explained why you never left the building. He learned that your father used to hit you when you were a small child to mold you into whatever he wanted. The broken photos with scribbled curses on your paternal figure he found on the trash can of your room said everything.
He learned that only in your room you never bothered to wear any long-sleeved shirts to hide your bruises. That just there you allowed your precious mask to break, unbottling the years of abuse that couldn't leave your mind.
You weren't privileged like everyone believed, himself included. You had a curse.
It was perfect. The person underneath the mask you furiously protected just had a poor boy, easy to manipulate. Jed knew he could take your abused, broken mind and mold it into whatever he wanted if he managed to go past your walls.
He tried as hard as he could, moved his chess pieces accordingly in the unfair game he put you in without your consent. He was the declared winner before the fight ever started. The moment he dropped his nice guy persona, and talked to you he knew he had your heart in his hand.
There was just a tiny problem.
He started to feel back.
The first time he saw you truly smile was in a casual discussion about Michael Myers. You had been talking non-stop about why you loved the first Halloween movie, and he listened with interest because that's what sharing a favorite taste for horror movies did to him. Jed managed to catch the way your soft lips curved into a smile while you narrated your favorite murder scene. He ignored how his heart fluttered in his chest with ease. Olsen knew he had to be careful, though. Having a crush on you would be a bad outcome since it would force him away from you. It would make his plan all in vain.
No matter how hard he tried to be emotionless, his efforts were useless. It was hard not to feel fond of you because every day he tried to gain an advantage over you, you always surprised him with something else. And when he was in a legitimate bad mood to interact with you, you made his day more easier. Jed suggested a movie night after work? You would rent the movies he offhandedly said he liked to watch days before he even thought of asking you out. He looked tired because he didn't sleep at night? You would make a cup of coffee for him, just the way he drank it. Was his boss an absolute bitch, making Olsen feel a murderous rage? You would go wordlessly with him and cheer him up in any way he needed.
He was in the point of no return the moment you started to talk about The Ghost Face's murders yourself. Jed was aware that outside of taste in horror movies you both liked, you two didn't talk about anything else. It was quite a surprise to hear you talk about a past crime he did with a supportive passion one day, in your hands a page of a newspaper printed in Pennsylvania.
It was an original page. It meant that you bought the newspaper online, and that you only had wanted it because the article talked about his premeditated murder.
"His kills look made for personal reasons, but the police haven't caught up to him for a reason, you know?" You said that day, eyes gleaming with interest to hear his input. He had masked his reaction, but thankfully you were too busy eyeing the newspaper you showed him of the murder in Pennsylvania to notice. "He's a goddamn genius, Olsen. That's what he is. The Ghost Face lets the police think the murderer must be close to the victim because it looks like a passionate crime. And they ignore the fact that a stranger is the one who's doing that. He's so fucking smart, I swear-"
He saw the way you looked at him, eyes bright and a fond smile on your face while you talked endlessly. Jed knew when a person was in love enough for them to be incapable of being subtle, and you fell enough to be unable to mask that emotion. It was easy to see in your cute blush, the shiny reflection in your eyes, the beautiful smile drawn by your lips. He had you right where he wanted. But he couldn't take advantage of that. Danny Johnson knew he was giving the same look back.
You had the fucking balls to make him fall in love with you.
You hated yourself for your sappiness, but the memory of your first time with Jed Olsen was a precious treasure you were incapable of forgetting.
You were not a virgin since your father bought you a hooker once to "man you up" when you finally managed to hit 18, so you had the knowledge of how to fuck a girl decent enough. Penis goes in Vagina. Cum inside or not, depending on if you wanted her to get pregnant or not. Fuck the ass if you wanted to be safe; it wouldn't matter if you finished inside or not that way. The rules got slammed in front of you without asking permission, and you learned them out of obligation.
You were aware that your father only did that because he wanted you to marry a cute, rich girl to give the family even more money. The disgust you felt towards your paternal figure was there for doing that atrocious shit, but eh, it was an experience decent enough. The 3-hour session he bought for you was more spent watching The Texas Chain Massacre than actually fucking. She was quite a nice gal. You would have legitimately thought of dating her to spite your father, to disobey him with a strong message, but the girl got brutally murdered some months later. It was a shame, really.
-You had the article that detailed her death by The Ghost Face's hands hung in the wall like a poster, courtesy of Jed. You forgot her name the day after you meet her, but you had the article now to remember every time you wished. You didn't understand at the moment why she was the one chosen, it was The Ghost Face's first murder in Florida so you had expected him to go for anyone else. You understood later. -
The experience helped, even if you never wanted to admit it. Your hands were usually shaking in nervousness, yes, but after the learning curve caused by touching that woman now they knew where to hold, fingers grasping the brown hair that the newspaper writer possessed. You liked how soft the locks felt, so you usually pulled and grabbed at them with interest every time they were at your reach. He always groaned in appreciation when you did it, so you never found a reason to stop.
Jed kissed in the ways you expected and knew to approach. The touch could be warm and enthusiastic on your lips the first seconds just for the sensation to suddenly become a rough, dominating experience that you couldn't help try to embrace and endure. Every time he touched your lips with his felt like the first, making your knees shake. The tall man knew how to use his tongue effectively against yours. He probably had a lot of experience before you, not that your mind could think anything while his mouth devoured yours like a man starved for food.
You cried when he pushed himself deep inside you the first time. Jed had tried to prepare you accordingly that night, make you be able to take his cock without issue; the lube he bought wasn't just for decoration, after all. Your insistence on rushing everything because you were horny with the adamant claims of being able to take him easy on top of that won out in the end, so he entered you with absolutely nothing but lube on his dick.
It hurt a lot.
You didn't bleed or anything, but you could remember clearly the sting of pain that assaulted you, hands gripping the covers with enough strength to make your knuckles stand out while fat tears fell quietly from your closed eyelids. God, it was agonizing. Your asshole clenched so tight around his member you heard Jed hiss in uncomfortable pain on top of you; thank god he was patient enough to be still, to stop the situation from being a disaster.
Lesson learned. A girl could enjoy vaginal sex with relative ease, but the ass had to be taken care of before.
The start was a painful one, but the rest of the ride was thankfully a more tolerable experience. Olsen was the one reason you didn't decide to practice abstinence for the rest of your life after that horrible start. That man had the willpower of a god and the patience of a saint, waiting with no problem for you to be comfortable enough to start moving. You couldn't correctly remember everything else after that; you guessed that the tears making you unable to see and the euphoria that washed over you when he started pounding the life out of you were to blame.
It was the first time with him, and you strongly believed he was the one.
You didn't bat an eye when the murders started in Florida.
You were dating Jed for almost two weeks when the murders started. You couldn't forget the morning you woke up in his apartment after the night you had sex for the first time; you found him sitting comfortably in the living room, reading the newspaper. He was reading the article he made himself about the murder of the prostitute that took your virginity.
You never noticed the possessive body language he expressed when he got a hold of you on that morning. You were too busy taking the newspaper of his hands and reading the article to see the hands gripping your waist with too much force, nor feel his warm, wet mouth adding another hickey into your already abused neck.
You weren't an idiot, though. You learned quickly.
-He wanted to get away with murdering people? Fine, you would let him do that as longs as he stayed at your side.-
He didn't intend to use and manipulate you anymore since he started dating you for real, but he couldn't deny that you did everything he wanted you to do. His well-thought plan was still there, working in his favor like he had calculated months ago even if there was no malice in his attitude towards you anymore. He knew from his stalking that you had issues and your mind easy to manipulate, but he couldn't force himself to bring you realm harm. Every time he tried to convince himself that he could kill you if you no longer proved yourself useful, it was a matter of seeing you smile or hear you talk passionately about a murder to be enamored again.
You covered everything he needed. Olsen was not seen suspicious at the start, of course. But when the murders continued, and the police started to be intelligent, you were the alibi he needed. You were the exemplary son of the Boss of the Roseville Gazette, so everybody only expected the truth to come out of your pretty lips. When you covered for him, everyone couldn't help but believe you. You never lied to them before. Why would you start now?
-Because he was worth lying to everyone. Anything to have the only person living for at your side. If he slipped up of your hands, oh, what would you do...? He was a serial killer, but he was the only one who made you feel alive.-
Time ran out almost two years later after Jed's first day working on the Rosette Gazelle. The moment the investigation was strongly suggesting him as the murderer, and you couldn't help him anymore, he packed up his things and left. He was hesitant to retire from the city for the first time, even if it was for just a moment. He couldn't help but look back and wonder if you would be strong enough to survive. He knew that you didn't have it that good in Florida, that you expected him to stay at your side, to be your pillar. He couldn't, not anymore. And Jed wouldn't take you with him too, firmly believing that you wouldn't want to if you ever knew his true identity.
So he left without saying goodbye, his only regret being unable to do something about you. He loved you so hard it hurt, but in his profession the idea of love was a danger he couldn't afford. He still had so many headlines to be in, after all. It didn't matter if he wanted to stay at your side because you belonged in The Roseville Gazette, and he wouldn't take your future away from you.
He never knew the consequences of his actions until it was too late.
Why?
The shame, the anger, the betrayal-
The pressure became too much. The moment Jed left, everyone glanced at you, their fingers pointed, blaming like always. A spiral of depression, abuse, and bruises grew up on your skin until you couldn't take it anymore.
You tried to be strong, to hold on, to prove to yourself that you didn't need Jed to survive. But to no avail. He had been a piece of heaven that made your life bearable and to lose it made you insane. It took one year for your broken mind to decide it couldn't take anything anymore.
A short suicide note. A lonely corpse lying on the floor, dead like a broken doll. Years of incriminating evidence on the basement you lived. Your father was put behind bars to rot as he deserved. The Roseville Gazette closed weeks later.
Heh.
Fucking bastards, serves them right.
Danny knew he was The Entity's favorite.
It was not hard to see that, of course. The serial killer wasn't forced there, after all. He came on his own accord, The Fog was there to guide him towards his new home, and he didn't hesitate to follow.
Don't get him wrong, the life he possessed before being brought to the trials was good and all, but this is what he wanted. The pure fear-stricken experience of murder was an addicting drug he would never get tired of getting. The rules he had to play by were a little boring, but it would not matter if he could offer an Ebony Memento-Mori to the beast as offering to murder every one of those parasites.
He was the Entity's favorite pet, so it was a surprise to take so many Trials for her to give him a Realm of his own.
To see the Roseville Gazette Newspaper Building as his Realm was a pleasant gift. However, what made him blink in curiosity was that the place looked abandoned for years. Every step he took was meet by messy boxes and broken paper pieces. His chocolate brown eyes could still remember vividly every person who worked here, so his mind came back to your warm, soft face.
Wait-
He instantly tensed and rushed in hurried steps towards the basement. He didn't liked to see the door open. He knew that you always had the door locked because your desire for privacy was that strong.
His body was athletic enough to sprint without sweating, but he still found himself unable to breathe the moment he he entered the room. Eyes immediately found themselves drawn towards the broken, putrid body and the dry blood around it, his breath hitching.
The first instinct assumed murder, and his blood boiled in hot rage, hands becoming fists. But, the more he watched the scene and allowed his head to cool down, he could see more the ugly truth his instinct tried to deny. A broken rope decorated your neck, and the blood on the floor was originated from your arms, the putrid flesh painted with red told him enough. He couldn't look away from your body, and no matter how much it hurt, he was unable to unseen what his departure caused.
No murder. Suicide.
It took him hours for his eyes to leave the sight of your broken body. His heart begged to leave the room, but he forced himself to search, to understand why you resorted to that brutal end. His search was a messy one, filled with vulgar curses and broken mumbles. Danny hated how his heart was clenched in his chest, such a disgusting feeling that made him cringe. He only found a note between the broken photos, the bloody movie VHS, and the articles of his murders. But it was more than enough. He turned away, closing the door of the basement after reading it.
-You had known all along, and you never turned your back to him. He left you, and you couldn't take it anymore-
He didn't allow himself to cry. But his heart wept in silence.