After The Flesh

by Luv4alex

Summary:

What do you not remember?

Notes:

• For i love you forever.

Chapter 1: Bitter

Rain pattered outside my window, the cold grey of the morning stinging my eyes as the dull feeling of a headache began to brew at the bottom of my temples. My teeth felt sore.

 

The remnants of last nights events began slowly moving to the forefront of my mind and the reminder that I had to work a nine hour shift was threatening to make my hangover worse.

 

The coffee in my hand was bitter and the cigarette that graced my lips as I pulled from its burning embers was hot on my lungs. I should have stolen more sugar packets from work.

——————

Another sip from the bottle, and a shit attempt at washing off my clothes in the river behind the house of a well off family. Father was a Lawyer I think mother was an accountant or receptionist or insurance broker?

 

I never know anymore. Lines blur the faces are warped, people look  like animals the more I do this. Man sins he runs to church, monster sins he runs to the bottle, and I am no man.

 

Thunder rumbles in the distance as lightning crashes a little too close to my position than I’d like. I’ll just steal from the slaughterhouse I’ve created behind me, all that’s not covered in blood.

 

I rummage through the teenage boys things, never bothered to learn his name even though he was the one to wake up, he doomed the entire family. The soft white of the fabric made me wince. The clean white of the oversized material falling over my frame with ease.

 

———————

The diners bright lights practically blinded me as I tried to get through the day. Zombies had more energy than I did at this point and tips were slow. I couldn’t blame the customers, but it would put a spring in my step if I got more than a five percent tip for large groups I mean, Can seven business men not afford more than five dollars to spare between all of them?

Cold ice water spilled down the front of my uniform as the clatter of glass hit the ground in a sharp ear piercing crack. I had tripped on one of their feet, made to look like an accident but it was because I forgot more creamer. I was sure if it. Fabric uncomfortably clung to my skin as one of them giggled like a school girl. “Jesus” I whispered harshly under my breath and didn’t turn back to face them before I ran to the back room.

 

Someone else could clean it.

 

My entire front was covered in water, the tips of my hair soaked and freezing, I couldn’t help but let out hard and choked sobs, my body shaking with each breath while I stood in the freezer in the kitchen trying to compose myself.

 

The end of my shift and I could even hold it together. I removed my apron and clocked out without telling anyone.

 

Mascara ran down my cheeks,my nose and cheeks flushed while  I clung to my winter coat, it was cold enough to be uncomfortable but not enough for it to snow, the puddles from the earlier rain squelched as I worked on my walk to my car from the parking lot. 98 days since I had been kicked out from my family home, 26 days I had been couch surfing and 72 had been living in my friends apartment, barley being able to split rent. It was almost December. I missed my mom.

——————————

I liked to watch the news, between the mundane and the weather the bright face of the news anchor would fall, sharing the details of the family I had ever so kindly turned into my art project. Three people, five people, an extended family of eight on vacation, only the dog was left. All me across different states, yet I wasn’t suspected for any except my own family’s. Dogs, animals can’t tell the police what you’ve done and sometimes they don’t care. I don’t leave witnesses that can speak.

 

The diner was mostly quiet, bright droning lights almost drowned out the sound of the box television hanging over the booth in front of me that displayed the news. The chief of police was speaking at a press conference, the bright white hoodie suddenly making me feel too visible for my comfort.

 

Politician. I killed a local politicians whole entire family.

 

Not that I particularly care about politics, quite a distaste for them actually. Police tend to work harder to find the people who harm them even at the local level.

 

My attention was drawn from the problem I was facing on the screen in front of me as I watched the guy in the booth across from my table in a group of suited fraternity brothers who barely graduated college stick his foot out and trip the server that was waiting on him. Making them drop the tray of half full ice water they were carrying.

 

The crash of glass and silverware clattered to the floor as the seven giggled, mockingly saying sorry and throwing their half crumpled napkins at her in feigned support of helping them clean up.  Tears welled in their eyes as they stood up straight and ran to the back.

 

It’s easy to pick targets. Some people might as well paint giant red circles on their foreheads. I don’t usually pick people for their behavior on a whim, but I missed my portion of the news because the accident they caused. Not the server.

 

I don’t discriminate when it comes to what I do. I watch people, I study them, some more than others. Sometimes I don’t, admittedly I should be more careful but when you need a place to stay for the night you can’t be picky especially if they have a McMansion on the side of town people don’t expect murder in and you really need a shower.

 

I watched the seven, not pay walk out and to their respective gaudy cars, lifted trucks and one lime green hummer, but two, the one who tripped the server and the one who laughed the loudest, made the detrimental mistake of walking home

 

I followed at a distance, hood up. The cloudy cold weather allowed me to have it that way without suspicion. I just wanted to see where they lived. I’d deal with it later.

 

—————————

My keys clinked on the glass of the entry way table into my shared apartment. My roommate wasn’t home yet but I saw the mess of papers, boxes, a box cutter, fake skin for practice and a half drunk Red Bull on the coffee table and knew she hadn’t been gone long. They’d never learn to pick up after themselves.

 

They were a night shift worker at a gas station who had a dream of being a tattoo artist, something I also wanted to do but apprenticeships were not in the cards for me, I needed to eat and a place to shield me from the rain. The clock I could barely see from the kitchen,  a glowing green glob that i could barely make out read 9:15.

 

I shivered, my front still wet from the water spilled on my brightly colored and obnoxiously 50s themed uniform. I needed a shower and to change.

 

Warm water cascaded down my back while I sat with my knees to my chest, focusing my eyes on the vinyl coating on the shower wall that’s been slowly starting to peel. I hate the mundane, I wish for just once , something different would grace my life. Something that’s not wake up, go to work, smoke a cigarette, shower, watch tv, check the landline for messages that my mother still sent me,  begging me to come home. I can’t.

 

I watched the remainder of my hair dye fall down the drain as I turned the water off, I would keep it on forever if it stayed warm. The rough material of an old towel wrapped around my body while I brushed my wet hair and then my teeth, got dressed in an old South Park t shirt I had from high school that my dad gave me, one of the only things we ever bonded over was that show. I swallowed the guilty feeling that overcame my senses as I pulled on my sweatpants and clipped my hair back so my wet hair wouldn’t stain my shirt. Perks of having dye that never seems to fully Rinse out.

 

The yellow glow of our singular lamp bathed the living room in a warm light, the couch seemed to sink in on me while the tv played some sitcom I wasn’t too invested in.

 

Tap tap tap

 

The unmistakable sound of fingers on glass made me turn my head towards our sliding door, I grabbed the box cutter sitting on the coffee table. Something my roommate left out after she had finished opening a package, her forgetfulness becoming something I was grateful for in this moment.

 

I could see a figure. My own reflection in the glass obscuring my late night visitor’s appearance as I approached the door. Seeing it was unlocked as the glass slowly started to slide open.

 

She forgot to lock the door.

 

A large black boot slapped onto the linoleum, wet with rain. The white hoodie the intruder was wearing, covered in red. The rain that had seeped into the fabric had turned the large splotches pink around the edges of what i could only assume was blood. And I didn’t want mine on there next.

 

Exposing the box cutters blade I ran at him, yelling obscenities as I hopped onto his back, a low grunt escaping his lips as he tried to pull me off and throw me onto my own kitchen floor,

 

Large calloused hands tried to grab at my arms as I wildly slashed without really looking. blood dripped onto my hands when I sliced his arm with the box cutter.

 

He grabbed my wrist and pried me off of his back, grabbing my shoulders and slamming me against the ground.

 

The wind was knocked out of me when the cold kitchen floor hit my back, the blood from his arm now dripping onto my face while he had me pinned to the floor, grabbing my wrist and wrestling my one and only weapon out of my hands.

 

Kicking, screaming, and biting I eventually got out from under him after I bit down his palm hard enough to draw blood and to feel his skin rupture between my teeth. I ran to my room, grabbing my flip phone off the living room table as he was preoccupied,clutching his hand where I had bit him and tried to shut the door but a steel toed boot stood in my way.

 

A deep gravely voice barely loud enough to hear came from the other side of the flimsy wood that was cracking in between my non stop pushing and the leather and steel on the other side

 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I need a place to sleep.”

 

What the fuck.

 

I tried to think, of something anything that would make him scared enough of me to leave but I kept drawing blanks. My lungs still trying to catch up with me.

 

“I have a roommate! He’s big and will be home in ten minutes, I have a shotgun in my closet if you don’t get out right now I’m blowing a hole through your stomach”

 

“You should go get it then, cause I’d rather have a hole in my stomach than be in a jail cell for the rest of my life”

 

I didn’t know what to say, my hands were shaking and I was covered in sweat and blood,  my bangs stuck to my forehead and I pushed the door harder and harder, trying to push him out of the way so i could have some semblance of safety.

 

The crunching of the door reminded me of what was between me and this man, who was determined on staying in my home for the night, the sirens passing by my house one after the other, catching my attention. I made the connection that, that’s what he was hiding from pretty quickly.

——————

I returned to the townhouse three hours later, crouching behind a large bush right while I waited for one of the men from the diner to step out the back door and onto the patio, bong in hand.

 

I overheard on their walk home about a new strain they had gotten from a dealer in the city, something about how it was supposed to be smoother than a generic? I couldn’t give a shit I hope it was laced.

As if on queue I heard the glass back door open, to my surprise both of them stepped out, one carrying a small bag and the other carrying the large glass bong shaped like a family guy character.

 

Assholes. Stereotype defining assholes.

 

The water sloshed  inside of the bowl when one of the men stood up, both backs turned to me as I lunged at one of them from the bush, large Bowie knife clutched.

Sharp Metal pierced between skin muscle and bone, the squelch of blood and raw screaming disturbed the peace of the quiet neighborhood, the glass bong shattering as it hit the concrete. The sound wasn’t as funny I guess when you’re being stabbed through the spinal cord.

 

The first one was swift. The man fell to the ground and was sobbing while his friend, the one who tripped the server stood dumbly off to the side.

 

I lifted his head by his shortly cropped and gelled hair, the crunchy pompous locks making me want to vomit.

 

“Open your mouth.”

 

“W-what?” The cracked voice of the man annoyed me. Once so proud and full of arrogance reduced to a babbling child

 

“Are you deaf I said open your fucking mouth.”

 

He did as I said, and as I placed his front teeth on the metal feet of the patio stable and kicked down. The sickening crunch of his teeth and skull satisfied me. He’d finally stop laughing.

 

I turned to the other man, who was now holding a wooden board.

 

I pulled my knife out of his friend’s back, looking him in the eye and slowly wiping the carnage off on the paper white of my sweatshirt, lightly laughing to myself.

 

“What was your friends name?”

 

The man swallowed, Lowering the board and taking a shaking breath before looking back at me

 

“Look man if I owe you money or something, I don’t make the Coke I just deal it, I can give you the guys number or-“

 

I shook my head. This guy watched his friend get curb stomped and he was worried that he owed me money

 

“Do none of you listen? It’s like you can only hear yourselves, what was your friends name sweetheart”

 

I was wasting time. The neighbors definitely heard and or seen what had happened. I would be hearing sirens soon enough. I needed to get this over with.

 

“Ronnie, um his name was Ronnie”

 

I stopped, tracing the blade along my fingertip. His unwillingness to fight back making me want him to just smack me square in the face with that wood just to prove to me that he wasn’t all talk, and that he didn’t only like to pick on people he deemed lower than him.

 

“It’s harder for a rich man to get into heaven than it is for a camel to travel through the eye of a needle”

 

Tears ran down his face as he let the board fall on the concrete, sniffling when he twisted his face to try and figure out what I meant “What does that even mean”

 

“I’ll see you where we both belong”

 

The knife slipped through the fabric of his shirt as his blood dripped onto the front of my jacket, the friction of flesh similar to when you slice an orange in half. One after the other after the other until his body resembled hamburger meat. I only stopped when i could hear sirens in the distance, my anger finally subsiding in a dull guilt.

 

I hopped the fence of the small back yard, running into back alley ways and parts of the city that were abandoned at night, only resuming when the sun came over the trees.

 

My lungs burned as I coughed, and sprinted through the streets. Hardly being able to catch a breath as sirens grew closer, reminding me I had to keep running

 

I made my way to an apartment building, scanning the downstairs units until I found one tucked away at the end of the tree line, with a sliding glass door leading to the outside of the back yard that was connected to the other tenants.

 

I saw the tv on from the other side but couldn’t quite make out who was watching it from the other side, the light from a street lamp casting a glare on the glass. They probably weren’t even home.

 

I searched for the door handle, my fingers accidentally tapping on the glass when I finally found it, unlocked. I pulled on the door the loud scraping sound surely alerting whoever was home if there was anyone there at all of my presence.

 

I didn’t have time to react when screaming ensued, weight suddenly on my shoulders as whoever was sitting on the living room couch was on me, yelling at me to get out and waving around a box cutter wildly.

I reached up, grabbing this persons wrist and also thrashing, whoever this was was hell bent on staying on my back, getting me out, or stabbing me.

 

There was a sharp sting in my forearm as they sliced me in an upward motion that i could only hope didn’t hit any major arteries, can’t go to the hospital when you’re wanted in all fifty states.

 

I managed to grab their shoulders flipping them so they were facing me , then pushed and fell with them to the ground, using the time they couldn’t breathe to pin their wrists to the linoleum, clamping down so hard they had to open their palm so that the box cutter would fall out of that iron grip. I stopped for a moment, recognizing their face and hair. It was the server. The server that was tripped, the server I saw run away from broken water glasses and the men I turned into New York strip steaks was now tussling with me.

 

I let go, but not before I kicked the makeshift weapon where they couldn’t reach and cradled my now bleeding hand and arm while they skittered to the living room, and to a room down the hall. Probably to call the police. I ran, my longer legs carrying me to the room right before they could close the door, and stuck my foot in between the frame and the wooden board.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you I just need a place to sleep”

 

Chapter 2: Do you smoke?

Summary:

I will drive on to the end with you, a liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full.

I crawled away into the corner of my room, hands and knees bruised from fighting. I grabbed my lighter off the window sill I flicked it, the flame sputtering for a moment and then burning out as I held it out towards him in a feigned attempt to scare him away with the threat of burning him.

He slowly removed his hood, long black ,wet hair fell over his shoulders one of his eyebrows seemed to be burned off halfway with a Glasgow smile scar that looked to still be healing , taken over by burns running up to where the tail of his eyebrow should be. Burn scars covered half his neck up to his jaw. I recognized his hands, his hair and sharp features, I served him coffee earlier today at work, nothing else. He tipped me with a 20 dollar bill before he stormed out of the restaurant.

He was going to kill me, he followed me home from work and waited until my roommate wasn’t home to do god knows what to me and then leave my body in a dumpster, torn apart. Or cut me up into little pieces and serve me on a silver platter, and keep my head in the freezer or bleach my bones and wear them as a necklace or turn my hair into a wig and dance around pretending to be me or-

My mind kept running in circles of every horror movie trope I had ever come across and just stood and watched as he looked at me as if waiting for me to say something. I dug the hand that wasn’t clutching my lighter into the shag of my carpet. Feeling the soft fibers while I tried to think of a way out.

I screamed as he slowly moved towards me as if I were a stray feral cat he was trying to crate and he didn’t want me to run away, I threw the lighter at him, smacking him square in the forehead with it before it fell at his feet, and crunched under the weight of his boot before he slowly pulled a large knife out of the hoodie pocket, sharp and glistening from the streetlight outside my bedroom window. I closed my eyes, preparing for the sharp burning pain of being stabbed in the stomach or shoulder but nothing came.

I slowly opened one eye and saw he put it on the windowsill, crouching down to meet my sitting position on the floor to look me in the eye.

“You should really start locking that patio door”
————————————————————
I crouched in front of them, my eyes locking with theirs, the rain dripping from my hair making a slow patter on the fabric of her sweatpants. While I tried to analyze their features, their eyes looked like saucers, their bottom lip quivered. Soft features looked at me with so much fear it made me start to question why I was even terrorizing her.

They were staring at me, at my face, seeming to analyze me as well, specifically staring at my mouth. My scar, something from my teenage years that never seems to fully heal. I open it back up on hard nights when lights are too bright and memories flood my mind.

“Fucked up right”

I tried to talk, attempting to make the thick atmosphere of the room lift by pointing out what they were staring at. Picking their hand up gently and placing his fingers on the edges of the deep scar to try and show her I wasn’t going to do anything. I really needed food and a shower. Maybe a cigarette.

“I did this repeatedly as a kid, you’re stupid when you’re 17.”

They stared wide mouthed at me and silent. Cracked sounds escaping their lips as if they were trying to speak but the words got stuck in their teeth. Slow uhhhs and ums, making me almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

The blood, my blood on their face reminded me of the gash in my arm and hand. I needed to stitch that up, or bandage it as best I could.

A small voice broke the silence of my thoughts, their hand was on my face even though I had moved my own.

“Have you been stalking me”

I couldn’t help but laugh, it could be seen like that. They saw me at the diner earlier and then later the same day I’m breaking and entering into their apartment. I hadn’t been.

“No, actually. I didn’t even know this was your apartment.”

“Why are you here. Are you gonna murder me”

“No. No no I’m not. I was hoping no one was here”

“Well…um can you go?”

“I need a shower, food, a different hoodie maybe. Do you smoke?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was hoping you had a cigarette”

“I do. I don’t have a lighter anymore though.”

“Sorry about that”

“Yeah um”

The conversation was awkward. I backed away as they slowly unraveled from their ball in the floor while I sat on the bed, cradling my hand so the blood wouldn’t stain their bedding. They stood, keeping their eyes on me while backing towards my knife on the windowsill slowly. Not grabbing it only standing in front of it.

“Thanks for the 20 today. I uh. Appreciate it, you can shower if you need to. If you have a lighter I have reds in the kitchen.”

I remembered the diner, the men. The crunch of bone and I winced. Do I tell them I killed two of the guys who tripped them? Or do I just accept their thanks and move on. Let them find out on their own.

“You’re welcome.”

The sting of the steady flow of steam and water piercing the gash on my arm made me hiss while the brown of old blood fell down my shoulders and into the drain while I dug the dirt off of my scalp.

My hair has grown, it was barely past my shoulders when I first left home and now it reached my mid back. I tried to cut it but I never could do it properly.

Only she could. All I had left of her was the silver crucifix I wore. Even now in the shower. I don’t want to risk losing it.

Towel around my hips, I looked under the bathroom cabinets for the first aid kit, my good arm feeling around the wood for anything to patch myself up.

I grabbed the kit. Biting the inside of my cheek, I poured rubbing alcohol on my wounds , digging my fingers into my palm as it stung like hellfire. The kind of pain I knew too well , I wrapped the gauze on my arm and hand before taping it so it’d be secure enough for me to bend and move my arm. Getting dressed in the old bleach stained black hoodie they gave me I turned the gold doorknob that was starting to turn silver from ware and stood face to face with them.

“I put your other hoodie in my washing machine. I’m not sure how well those stains are gonna come out though.”
I couldn’t understand why they were being nice to me. Maybe out of fear, maybe out of just pure indifference to the situation, or loneliness, something I could also relate to, in some sick twisted sense.

I didn't say anything, just pushed past them with a nod. Examining the shelves of books, glass figurines and cds on the shelves of a bookcase, skeleton stuffed animals on the couch along with a ‘worlds best grandma’ pillow and so many blankets with different animals printed on the plush fabric thrown onto a side chair. One with the face of a raccoon plastered on it, another with three wolves and a moon in the back and a few others I couldn't quite make out.
“You have a lot of things.”

“Oh yeah, I guess”

“Who’s the worlds best grandma?”

“Oh um, it’s an inside joke”

“I have a lighter in my pocket. If you wanna smoke”

“Sure”
I liked them. I liked the shortness they expressed with me, I wanted to dig, find that personality I saw in the shelves of their bookcase. Dissect every Part of their brain, study it and look it over again.

The flick of the lighter, the inhale of smoke and a sweet flow of nicotine grazed my lungs. I reached out tilting my head as if to tell them to come closer so I could light theirs. They stood four feet away from me but came closer when I held out the flame “come on I’m not gonna bite”

As they blew the smoke into the darkness of the night air I saw his shoulders relax the orange of the burning paper illuminating her fingers as they took another drag.

“I killed the guy who tripped you”

“What?”

“I killed him and the guy who sat beside him”

“I um”

“Not for you but I thought you’d wanna know”

“Hm. How’d you do it”

I raised an eyebrow at the question. She was so nonchalant in the delivery it almost made me question if they believed me at all as they inhaled more of the smoke, I did the same.

“Curb Stomped the guy who laughed the hardest, turned the other one into minced meat”

“Do you think they deserved it?”

“I guess, do you think they did?”

“Yeah. But I also think you should be in prison”

“I have been, when I was 17, shoplifting and property damage.”

“Huh,”

“They made me do drag, was the only one in there with long hair”

“I guess you don’t want to go back then”

“I wouldn't enjoy it , no”

I didn't enjoy talking about my youth. I wanted to make them more comfortable with me being there rather than keeping a distance, having a place to stay where I felt welcomed would be refreshing. The burning tobacco finally reached the filter and I put out the rest of the paper on the glass ashtray resting against a glass table and turned to them as they took a final long drag and did the same. Their arm reached over me, and grazed My chest when they also put their cigarette out on the glass. and I felt as if I were making progress in cracking that shell.

“I don't know how i feel about you being here but, it's better than what i usually do and I don't think you will leave ,even if I ask again”

“You’d be right”

“Can you not find anyone else”

“Don’t want to”

“Why. What’s so special about my house”

“You’re letting me stay, you did my laundry, let me shower and gave me a cigarette, do you rescue stray cats a lot?”

“No.”

Chapter 3: My teeth will only cut your lips, so darling watch your tongue

Summary:

Even the iron still fears the rot, hiding from something I cannot stop

I flinched when he brushed past my arm, sitting on my couch. His body took up most of the space on the small love seat. Long spindly limbs reaching out like branches over an old dirt path. My dim lamplight casting a shadow across his face, making the scar look deeper than it was.

“Please don’t touch that!”

I reached for the glass picture frame that his fingers grazed, the picture displayed inside was of me and my mom on Easter when I was three. It was something I held onto even after I left home even though the mere sight of it made my nose burn and my eyes sting.

He looked at me, surprised at my sudden reaction and I felt weak, scared that if I angered him he’d retract his decision to not hurt me when I saw that his eyes narrowed, seemingly in anger.

“Is that your mother.”

I didn’t know what to say. His eyes had softened when he looked at my face and the frame clutched to my chest. I relaxed. Loosening my grip on the metal and glass I set it back down, closer to the tv and nodded at his question.

“You look alike.”

We stared at each-other for a while. I didn’t know whether to laugh , cry , or curl into a ball beside him on the couch. I hadn’t hung out with anyone one on one in months, my roommate was almost always gone and most of my other friends were free when I wasn’t. Was this really all god had to offer?

I made my way to the kitchen, resting my elbows on the island, burrowing my face into my hands and letting out a long sigh.

I looked down at the blood splatter on my shirt, directly over Kenny’s face and laughed a little at the irony. I needed to change and wipe the crusted blood off my face.

I lifted my eyes to where this intruder sat on my couch He was just looking at me, staring coldly but also with something behind his eyes, deep in thought. A chill ran down my spine and goosebumps littered my skin while my cheeks flushed.

“I need to um”

“If you want to sleep you can”

“No uh I have to change”

“Nice shirt”

“You got blood on it”

“I see that.”

“I’ll get your hoodie out of the wash and put this in there”

“My brother and I used to watch that every Saturday”

“Oh… my dad let me watch it when I came home from school”

“I killed my dad”

“Oh…”
I didn’t say anything else, just walked back to the laundry room, tossed my shirt into the steel of the washing machine and took out the wet hoodie that was now covered in light brown splotches where the blood was. I looked for something different to wear in the piles of clothes and settled on an old tank top I used when I would dye my hair.

I waltzed back into the living room where he was looking at one of my stuffed skelanimals I had perched on the side chair until I sat on the floor directly in front of him while still kept my distance.

“You can sleep on the floor out here or in my room”

“Thank you, does this guy have a name”

He held out the plush, wiggling it to make the ears dance his gaze never leaving my face to watch my reaction. I cracked a smile.

“Yeah uh the tag said his name was jack, he’s a rabbit”

“He’s cute”

“Sorry about your arm”

“I was the one who broke in, don’t be”

I wasn’t sure why but I felt better, seeing this giant of a man make a stuffed animal dance made him feel less threatening. His hands were gentle with my things.

“I never got to ask your name”

“It’s Jeff”

“Cool”
I got up and moved to the large side chair, curling up with my knees to my chest, he gave me my rabbit back and the remote. I searched the late night tv channels, found the news, put the volume low and turned back to him. I wasn’t sure if he was coming back or if I’d ever see him again but for now we’d sit in silence.

I don’t know when I fell asleep but I woke up with him standing over me, the soft light of early morning seeping in through the blinds. I jumped backing up into the chair as much as I could before he spoke.

“I’m leaving. Your roommate gets off at six. It’s five thirty”

“O-okay”

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t know how to wake you up”

“Um I”

“You should sleep in your room. That chair can’t be good for your back”

“Ok um bye I guess”

“Bye”
I watched him walk or more like half jog to my sliding door, struggle with opening it and turn back to me
“You finally locked it”

“No you kinda have to lift it to get it open, here”

I got up from the chair and made my way to him, grabbing the bottom of the handle and pulling and lifting the door so it’d get back on the sliding track.

“Thanks”

“Wait your hoodie, it’s in the dryer”

“Don’t need it right now. Be back later”

“What?”
He didn’t say anything else. I watched him walk into the tree line to god knows where to do god knows what. I shut the door and locked it. I’m going back to bed.

Two weeks later and I hadn’t seen or heard of him. Dyed my hair a whole new color. I thought it would be the last I ever saw of him. One late night visitor who left in the early morning when I was still sleeping. I had his hoodie neatly tucked away in one of my drawers.

3 pm. My shift starts at 3:30, I sloppily did my eyeliner and brushed my hair up and I was out the door. I knew my manager was going to talk to me about the few days I had called out but I didn’t care. I hope he fired me so I could look for something less draining.

5:30, I didn’t get fired.I hate this fucking job. It was slow today there were only a few tables seated, three of which were in my section. They all were nice enough, the dinner rush would be coming soon and I dreaded it. At least it’d go by faster.

“Hey uh there’s a guy at table 20 who asked for you specifically”

I didn’t hear from any of my friends, usually when they came in they’d text or call to tell me what time. Dread sank to the bottom of my stomach. No way.

“What’s he look like”

“Black hair, large scar on his face. Kinda freaky looking if you ask me, you know him?”

“Yeah. I’ll be out in a second.”
I said with a sigh and through gritted teeth. My coworker, a girl who moved out of her own free will and was working here to put herself through college told me he was here. I was jealous of her truthfully, she had family who loved her and supported her when I didn’t have that luxury. I put my envy aside and essentially slammed through the swinging doors of the kitchen and sped walked to table twenty where Jeff sat, menu covering his face until I slapped my hands onto the table.

“Why are you here.”

“Hello to you too”

“Don’t ignore my question”

“I was hungry”

“Sure”
I’m not sure why I was so mad with him being here. Maybe because he broke into my home . Or maybe it’s just because being at work made me want to blow a hole through my cranium. But he was here and I was not happy.

“I’m looking out for you”

“You can’t kill everyone who’s rude to me, that’s just food service”

“Who said I wanted to kill them”

“I don’t know. Maybe the guy you killed last time.”

“He distracted me from the news”

“So you’re gonna scare them into being nice”

“Maybe”
We spoke in hushed voices. The small smirk on his face urging me to smack him in the jaw. I met him two weeks ago and now he’s following me to work. Acting like he’s some sort of bodyguard over me.

“I come here to watch the news. To see if they are looking for me. So far the only thing they have on me is that I was wearing a white hoodie. Not anymore though”

I blew air out of my nose, looking to the side and pulling out my server pad, and looking at him with an annoyed expression. One of the other patrons snapping at me to try and get my attention.

“One second”

“We’ve been waiting on coffee for ten minutes, where is it”

“I don’t know you’re not in my section”

“Stupid bitch”

I turned back to Jeff whose eyes were now on the table in the middle of the restaurant, specifically the man who was snapping at me. He smiled, wide and unblinking at him. Something so unsettling it made my own stomach turn. Surprisingly the man quieted down almost instantly.

“You can’t just…do that”

“shut up didn’t he”

“Sure”

“Black coffee”

“I’ll only get it for you if you tip me with a twenty again”
I smiled out of the corner of my mouth. One good thing came from this visit of his and I couldn’t complain if he could creep out rude customers to the point where they become nice ones.

“I’ll tip you more than that. Robbed a rich family today”

“Ok man”

I came back out, holding a cup and the coffee pot that warmed my hand just enough to be comfortable. But table twenty was empty, menu on the table with an 100 dollar bill resting underneath a napkin with words neatly scrawled onto it.

“See you tonight. Leave your sliding door unlocked”

Son of a bitch.
_________________________
My feet hit the concrete, the streetlights reflecting off the glass of the buildings that lined the street while I made my way to my new found friends place. Or at least the closest thing I can get to a friend.

They reminded me of Jane. That grit and stubbornness made me think of a simpler time where I felt loved. Someone who could understand what I had been through. I think she’s married now, woman named Mary or something. I wouldn’t know I couldn’t.

I destroyed whatever she had left and all I had to show for it were scars. I still feel the blistering pain, her horrified screams. I just wanted her to know I loved her. She deserved to love whoever she wanted without the fear of being sent away. I hope I could give that to her at least, now all these years later. I

hoped Mary was kind.

I slowed down when I got lost in my thoughts. The shaking of my hands bringing me back down to the reality of where I was going. I could almost hear the choir, the organ. What I wouldn’t give to be in church.
With my brother.

The glistening Christmas lights that bounced off the light poles, one that looked like Santa, another shaped like a deer, a snowflake.

a manger sat in the middle of the downtown square. Joseph, the infant son of God, Mary. All so peaceful in the warm glow of artificial light.

God didn’t love us enough to save us. Not even his own son. So what am I to him.

I couldn’t stop myself from picking up the plastic figures of the holy family. Smashing the promise of hope onto the cold cement. Piece by piece crushed into the ground with each stomp of a steel toed boot. I picked up the doll of the sacrificial lamb and stared. How could god abandon you. The one thing he created perfect. And what does that mean for me. Not Gods, not my mothers, not my brothers. I was left in an empty world, with an empty soul.

A grunt a scream and choked sobs echoed in the emptiness of the night when I picked up the hay from the manger and set it ablaze. Watching the remainders of the decorations melt and the wood burn. The flames engulfed only the manger as the melted faces of the three wisemen seemed to look at me in disgust.

I hate Christmas

I ran, I ran to the only place I could think to run, where I was going in the first place. I ran while the sounds of memories song chased me. I ran until I could run no longer and then I jogged. My eyes stung and my lungs burned when I finally made it to the sliding glass door. My ears ringing , the sounds of my own memories deafening as I saw them at the door. I was calling her name but I cannot remember it.

Their face, confused but their arms grabbed my own and I fell to my knees. Burying my head into their stomach praying to some alter that was not there I cried. I cried out to a god who did not exist or had forgotten I did. The only comfort I had was someone who did not see me as comfort in the same way but still held my head while I begged for god to see me. To hear me.

“Jeff, what happened”

Chapter 4: Can I even complicate your breathing?

I had opened the sliding glass door when I saw him running up through my back yard, calling my name loud enough to where I could hear it through the glass. Disheveled hair and shifty eyes that looked red were locked onto mine. When I grabbed his forearms and tried to see if he was injured.

“Woah okay”

I stumbled back a little when he fell onto his knees head buried into my ribs while his hand’s reached around my back, clinging onto my bones in an iron grip. I tried to figure out if he’d gotten a head injury while his shoulders shook, bated shaky breaths warming my clothing and I tried to make out what he was saying.

“Hear me know I exist why aren’t you listening, I have sinned but so has everyone else I need to know you’re there”

I couldn’t figure out if he was talking to me but when I tried to pull away he held on tighter, keeping me stuck in between my kitchen and doorway.

I felt bad, I didn’t know what he’d done or seen to react this way but I didn’t know him, truly. I had just finished putting our Christmas tree up when I heard him calling for me from outside. My cd player was still going quietly when I answered the door to this crying mess of a man.

“Jeff, hey can you come inside and tell me what happened it’s cold out there”

He let go. Not saying anything as he stood up and looked away from me, At the outside and came into the kitchen. The lights from the tree seemed to make him wince.

I struggled with the door and finally got it shut after some push and pull. Staring at the slush that coated the ground of my back patio while the tears that stained my shirt started to become cold. He was looking at me, and I wondered what he had to say next. What brought on this confession to me as if I were a priest.

“What happened?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. What happened quit dodging my questions with half assed answers”

“I burnt down a manger”

“Why did you burn down a manger”

“Cause I felt like it. Is that a good enough answer for you, mom”

He said that last part with a sharp incline, this is fucking bullshit. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for his presence and I didn’t ask to be treated like a nuisance in my own home with someone I barely knew.

“No. No! You don’t get to talk to me like that while you’re standing in my kitchen. I let you in. Tell me what happened or you can get out.”

“I already told you.”

“Ok then leave”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me”

“Obviously, I don’t know anything about you. I’ve seen you twice”

“I don’t like Christmas”

“A lot of people don’t, they don’t kill people though. Or burn down Christmas decorations”

He sighed, rubbing his hands on the sides of his temples while I crossed my arms. Waiting for a more appropriate explanation to this sudden outburst, and why he came to me.

“Do you have alcohol”

“I have half a four loko in the fridge”

I sat on my couch while he stood in the kitchen, grimacing when he downed a week old party drink only teenagers and broke college students enjoyed. I rested my chin on my open palm to keep my eye on him from the living room.

“My daddy was a preacher. I was the oldest son of two boys and I was expected to also follow in line of the rest of the men in my family of becoming one too”

“Yeah?”

“1988, I was seven years old. I had night terrors and I’d sleep walk. Parents thought I was possessed , had me exercised three times until I just didn’t sleepwalk anymore. We weren’t even catholic.”

I didn’t say anything when he moved into the living room in front of me. Sitting on the ground cross legged he rubbed circles on his knees with his palms.

“When I was 14 I refused to get baptized. The last time they made me go to church I broke everything of value in the living room.”

He laughed quietly to himself before he continued. I bit the inside of my cheek, playing with a loose thread on the couch as I listened.

“You uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s ok really I asked you to tell me why”

“Ok. I refused to get baptized so four grown men, men I grew up with held me down and threw me into the baptism pool.”

I bit the side of my thumb. I couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth or if this was a sob story to get me to trust him. But the way he fidgeted with his hands told me this was something he was recalling.

“One of them was my best friends dad. She was gone then. He’d sent her to some sort of camp for troubled teens. He found out that she had a girlfriend, and that I was also hiding that fact from him.”

“Yeah?“ I didn’t know what to say because ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem to be enough or the right words For what he was telling me.

“I moved out at 17, lived on my own for a few months until ,parents reported me missing. I came back a few months before my eighteenth”

I watched him down the rest of the alcohol, his eyes trained on my Christmas tree to think of what to say next. I stared at my feet, his hands, my hands

“My birthday is on Christmas. The day I turned 18 I was forced to go to a service, got into a fight with my dad after dinner. And I killed them. My mother first. With A gun I got from a friend, tried and failed to kill my brother next I stabbed him once and couldn’t finish the job. My father was last. And the longest. I couldn’t recreate all of pain and suffering he inflicted onto me for my entire childhood but, I sure did make him feel afraid.”

“I” I still didn’t know what to say. The words wouldn’t spill from my lips as I tried to wrap my head around what I had been told, my own family issues seemed so minuscule in this moment that I contemplated calling my mom. Tell her I love her.

“My friend, Jane. I trusted her with anything I had. She was smart and put together, stubborn and almost always right, I was angry and a mess. I burned her house to the ground. I ran into that fire to find her but stayed because it had turned into hell. And that’s where I belonged. She wasn’t even in there. She snuck out to her girlfriends. I only came out when I heard her screaming. I haven’t seen her since”

“You have a thing with fire”

“Yeah”

I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t know what to say, so I just moved to the floor and sat beside him with my head on his shoulder. I contemplated telling my own stories but I didn’t want to. I don’t think I could even make the words come out of my mouth even if I wanted to. I knew what I did and I knew there was nothing i could do to fix it. No matter how much I begged and pleaded for anyone to just talk to me. My god was my father. And I hade none. All I had now was him to keep me company and I wasn’t going to complain.

“Do you want to go to my room, I don’t know how the Christmas tree is making you feel”

“No, it’s fine”
He let me rest my head on him, his breathing had slowed and my shirt had dried. His hand rested on my knee while I stared off into the Christmas lights.

“I want to go to my room anyway, if you want you can follow me. The heat doesn’t work as well out here”

“If you insist.”

I picked up my computer off of my bedside table, I usually checked my emails at this time of night but he hadn’t seen a computer in a while so he was busy pressing buttons and looking up dumb websites with my browser.

“Please be careful you’re gonna give me a virus”

“A man can’t use the internet”

“No you just can’t click on every pop up ad you see”

“Ok then I don’t want to use the internet anymore”

I rolled my eyes and shut my computer, crossing my arms and looking down at him from my sitting position I watched him sit up and pull off the hoodie he had on. A different one from the one I gave him. I wondered where he got that one from but shook the thought from my head. His arms were pale, I could see blue veins peaking out from almost white skin a deep contrast from the black of the t shirt he wore underneath.

“You stare a lot”

“Hm.”

“I stare too, you just don’t catch me”

“That’s creepy”

“Sure. I know”

I kept looking while he looked at me, the inside of my cheek almost being bitten off while my heart threatened to burst out of my chest.

The way he sat up to take off his hoodie positioned him directly above my head. My cheeks burned and the tips of my fingers tingled when I laced my fingers through his hair, bringing his face closer to mine. His surprised hum when I kissed him made me hold onto his hair into a tighter grip. His hand moved to right above my elbow the other behind my neck.

I pulled away for a minute to breathe. My face stung and I moved to sit on the middle of his thighs. I needed to respond. The Last words needed to be mine.
“Fuck you”

Chapter 5: You can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings. You can have my absence of faith. You can have my everything

Summary:

NSFW themes are in this chapter reader be warned. They do have sex. DO NOT FLAME ME. I don’t like writing sex scenes but I’ll do it for character development. Closer by nine inch nails is so much more than a sex song

“Fuck you”

“Seems like you’re trying”

“Shhh”

He laughed and pressed his lips to mine again. I put my hands on the sides of his face, tracing over the scars gently while his hands stayed directly above my hips. I’d never kissed a guy whose hands didn’t directly move to places they didn’t belong, part of me felt rejected but the other felt respected for the first time in a long time.

I pulled away to kiss at his jaw, a low grumble left his lips when I bit his neck right below his ear. He grabbed my thighs and hoisted me up so I’d be directly sitting on his hips.

“Where’d all this come from, I thought you didn’t know me”

“Are you complaining”

“No, just curious”

He moved my hair off my shoulder the thin straps of my tank top was sliding off my shoulder when he started to leave marks along my collar bone and chest.

“I like you a lot”

“Yeah?”

“You ok with this before I start?”

“What does that mean”

“Ive always been rough”

He looked at me, his fingers finding their way to my hair and pushing it behind my ear and then gripping my chin to make me look at him.

“ I don’t want to scare you off”

“You’re not”

With that he kissed me again , hands reaching around my back to pick me up and carry me into the living room. He sat me down on the couch and stood towering above me, my face eye level with his groin. I reached my hand underneath his shirt. Running my fingers along his abdomen and the hair trailing from the middle of his stomach down to where his belt ended. He chuckled, his hands petting my hair. I tugged on his shirt so he’d get the hint to come back down to the couch.

I straddled his hips, moving my own in a way that made him grunt, my hands trailed up and down his Sides and his eyes were trained on my chest, watching my breath hitch when he placed his hands somewhere sensitive.

“Take it off”

“What?”

“Your shirt. Christ take it off before I rip it”
———————————-

Chapter 6: Falling asleep on a stranger

Summary:

Wow ok this took me longer to get out than I expected, enjoy!

“You hungry?”

My shoulder stung where he bit me but I couldn’t complain. We were both covered in marks, some my uniform wouldn’t cover but I didn’t care. I wasn’t utterly alone for the first time in a while and the way he handled me gently, hands that had hurt so many tended my wounds and brushed my hair gently. I watched his face, trying to decipher what his thoughts were. Lost in a deep concentration.

“I haven’t had Chinese in a while”

“Had to think about that one for a while didn’t you”

“You’re the one asking”

I walked to the kitchen and he followed like a dog looking for scraps, hot on my heels. I sat on the counter and picked up the landline and twirled the cord around my finger while I looked through the phone book for places that would deliver.

“Ok so” he put his hands on both sides of my face, practically squishing my cheeks together

“This is very important ,do I need to write it down for you”

My voice came out muffled by my own lips when I tried to smile through the way he was holding my face “I think I got it”

“Orange chicken. Chow mein extra cabbage if they have the fried cream cheese things please”

“Ok ok jeez”
I dialed the number, speaking on the phone , giving my address first then ordering while he watched intently, expression focused making sure I got every detail right

“The cream cheese things”

“Shhh-”
I tapped his hand after I reprimanded him. Giving them my card information through the phone then hanging the receiver back up on the wall.

“You got forty minutes till they get here”

“What if I die before then”

“I don’t know man”

He looked through the dvds on my shelf, flicking through every dumb comedy and horror movie my roommate and I had collected from thrift stores and Walmart. Some I had gotten from family members, my sister specifically. He picked up one that she had given me.

“Mars attacks?”

“Do you want to watch that?”

“I’ve never seen it”

“Dude.”
I reached over to where he was sitting. I had to get up to put it in the dvd player but not just yet. My co worker gave me an early Christmas present today and I would love nothing more than to share it with him.

“I have weed”

“You do now?”

“It’ll make the food taste better”

“Please”

The flick of the lighter and sizzle of the joint I had rolled, almost poorly but still usable, I inhaled first, passing the blunt to Jeff who was practically bouncing. I had assumed it’d been a while since he had anything that wasn’t alcohol and smiled. The cold air made my nose red, but huddled together something was so warm about being close.

“Breathe in when you start coughing. Hurts but it’ll help”

“No shit”
He said through light chokes, trying his best to take in air as he passed it back to me

——————————
I had nothing against drug use, the men I killed while they were smoking had nothing to do with the fact that they were smoking. I preferred drinking. The sting felt better to me.
But the warm taste of smoke entering my lungs and the light feeling of being stupid for a while especially with someone’s company you enjoy is something I will not pass up.

I forgot about the tight feeling in your chest it left they tried to coax me through but it just made me aggravated. I hadn’t smoked since I was a teenager. Got caught with a joint and I was made to sleep in the unfinished basement for a week but, their presence kept me calm.

“Ok ok stop hogging it”

“It was my Christmas present”

“You offered to share”
They handed it back to me, yanking it at the last second but eventually handing it to me with a smile. I choked down what i could until the ground beneath me felt light.

“Holding it in doesn’t do anything”

“Am I doing that?”

They laughed as they spoke, tapping my chest

“Yeah Breathe out”

I did, the smoke mixing with the cold air and eventually dissipating while they took the last drag, putting it out and dropping what was left over into a zip lock bag.

“Come on get inside before it hits me and I forget how to work the dvd player”

A knock at the door caught my attention. I almost ran to the door when I remembered they were expecting them to pick up the food. So I waited right behind them, the delivery driver looking at me towering over both of them with a indifferent expression. Trying to figure out what my deal was.

Maybe I was over thinking, or maybe I paranoid but they looked like they recognized me. I hadn’t seen the news in a while and maybe they had plastered my face all over daytime television. No I’m 7 states away from Florida. There’s no way the police made the connection it would be a miracle.

They smiled at me. Relief washed over me as the food was handed over, money exchanged and the door was closed.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost”

“It’s nothing”
———————————

I sat the food bag down on the floor, sitting cross legged in front of him while he essentially tore through the plastic to get to the food containers, opening one and then shoving the bag towards me, as I tried not to laugh at his frantic pulling of the cardboard and plastic cutlery

“Oh you’re so beautiful”

“Wow”
I ate too, slower but still hungry while mars attacks started up on my tv in the background. I laughed when I noticed the way he was tearing into the food like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Damn is it good?”

“Shhhhh”

“Ok ok”

I couldn’t help but giggle, rocking back and fourth on the floor when our eyes met unintentionally while we ate, he laughed too, something I hadn’t heard yet that shook me up a bit but made me laugh harder.

“You laugh so evilly what the fuck”

“You’re the one looking at me”

“What’s so funny about that “

“I don’t know, you’re just lookin’”

I couldn’t stop laughing, my head resting on the wooden floor while he kept eating, giggling every time he made an involuntary noise.
——————————————
I sunk into their couch, my head resting on the cushion while theirs rested in my lap. The tv’s glow changing colors while whatever movie they put on played in the background. Their soft snores interrupting the audio playing lowly.

This is the first time I’ve felt calm in years, there was nothing there that reminded me of the years I’ve spent running from everything and everybody. It was calm, They were comforting and seemed to care.

I ran my fingers through their hair, pushing it back gently. I could love them. They could love me. Just maybe

My lungs tightened when I saw the wood front steps of my old church, the green carpet in the foyer supposed to replicate grass squished underneath my feet because of the years of warm Florida humidity, weather, and rain. The brown wooden tables on each side of this small room grew mold while the flowers inside the vase were dead and now filled with standing water. The pictures of the crucifixion hung above each one. I couldn’t bring myself to open the wooden doors.

But they opened for me. The inside was in perfect condition. No the inside was in a service. No I set this place on fire years ago. No there was my father standing at the pulpit, staring me down.

His eyes were angry but his smile stayed the same. I felt like a small child who spilled milk on the carpet when he spoke.

“My oldest has decided to join us today! Jeff, come sit by your mother. Looks like my prayers were answered today folks”

No. No. I cut him into pieces. His head stuck on the end of their bedpost. I remember his blood on my hands. The fat from his gut spilling when I sliced it open. I remember but he is in front of me. Angry.

I still sat beside my mother the woman I shot in the head. My brother on her other side looking at me with concern. I was the only one in here covered in dirt and not wearing slacks. I couldn’t make out what he was preaching about. Fear gripped my being as the rest of the church stared at me.

A tap on my shoulder

“Why are you so late?”
A whisper, someone so familiar it made me relax.
“Jane?”

“Yeah dumbass you were supposed to be here at seven”

“Jane no no. Jane please go you can’t be here”

“I’m here every Sunday, what’s wrong with you?”

“Go. This isn’t right you need to go. Go.”

My voice was raised as I stood, back facing the stage my father stood on. The stained glass shone across her pale face and black hair.

No this isn’t right. Her eyes were black. Her skin was too smooth to white almost mask like, the only person in the whole congregation that wore black. Her smile twisted into something I didn’t recognize. This was not Jane. Not my best friend since childhood , journalist who wanted nothing to do with me Jane.

“STOP”

“Jeff sit back down now”

My father spoke, angrily through his teeth while I frantically looked for anything to set this place back on fire.

“You shut the fuck up!”

“Language!”

“Stop. All of you stop. Stop stop just.”

You poor thing.

You want this to end

I was with you when you spilled your first blood. I have watched you for years. You didn’t deserve this.

I hit my own skull, on my knees now, pulling chunks of hair out as a cried out.

“Make it stop! I’ve had enough!”

I found my lighter and ran. Finding the curtains that lit too easily. The wood of the church catching next as people ran out, screaming, some catching, burning up in flames and turning into dust almost instantly. until I was the only one left inside. My family now the corpses I remember.

I stood on the steps, covered in soot and sweat, my back facing the burning church.

You are bound to suffering because of the sins of your father

These people don’t deserve salvation. You deserve your penance

I am nor good nor evil I simply am and I am here to do what needs to be done.
——————
I woke up with my pillow being torn out from underneath me quickly. Jeff was up and running to my kitchen, breathing heavily his eyes wide with panic while he turned on my sink. Putting his hands underneath the running water as he sobbed.

“Jeff?”

My voice cutting through the stagnant atmosphere seemed to make his shoulders relax. I had no clue why he woke up in such a panic.

My clock read three forty. I had three hours until my roommate was home and three hours to figure out what happened but. I don’t think he would tell me.

I groggily got up, walking over to the sink and stood behind him, putting my hand on his forearm before he shrugged me off.

“Please don’t touch me right now”

Chapter 7: STRANGER ABDUCTION

Name:Jesse Barlow
Age:19
Height:5’7
Weight:150
Hair color: black
Eyes: green
Circumstances: Jesse was last seen at her place of work, Gunther’s diner off of interstate I-25 south towards Denver routinely taking out the trash on Saturday December 19th at 7 pm when she was forced into a blue short bed pickup truck in the parking lot. Witness says a white man with long black hair threw her into the truck then drove onto the highway.

If you have any information contact Denver police department at (000)-000-0000, 000-0000, 000-0000

Chapter 8: If you love me, keep it to yourself

“It’s ok, I’m sorry I didn’t mean.”
She looked at me so sadly. Her eyes filled with concern while she looked at me. The water running over my hands bringing me back down to earth while they backed away to the other side of the counter

“It’s not you. I had a nightmare”
I could feel the heat. I could feel the way the flames licked at my body while that thing chased me down. I looked over, keeping my eyes trained on their face while they tried to analyze what I was feeling.

“Here, can we um. Go to your room”

“Yeah, yeah”
The streetlight that came in through the window made the purple of their room seem to glow I laid on my back, looking up at the ceiling while my feet almost dangled off the edge of the bed. While I tried to forget my nightmares, the faces of my family.
She kept her distance, making sure none of their limbs wouldn’t graze mine until I pulled them on top of me. Their weight settling on my chest like a blanket.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, just sleep”

“I can try”

“I have the day off tomorrow”
They kissed the bottom of my jaw tenderly, fingers gently entangled with the cross I wore on my neck. Something about their presence keeping me calm. The warmth from their body intermingled with mine while I drifted. I went in and out of sleep through the night, as if someone were whispering in my ear every time I fell deeper in.

Grey morning light filled the small room when I woke up, their hair splayed across my chest while I tried to move out from under them. I placed a pillow underneath their head where I had been and slowly slinked out of the bedroom. I found my leather jacket on the floor while I looked at the living room in the morning light. The sun was peaking out over the trees while I slipped out of her sliding glass door. The keys inside of my jacket pocket jingled, the tips of my fingers growing numb as I walked the miles to where my truck parked in a tree line on a dirt road. Layla was stationary and covered in a thin blanket of snow, the ice just melted enough for me to open the rusty door. Thankful no one had broken into her over the years of me leaving her in parking lots and secluded dirt roads. I climbed into the drivers side door, the torn bench seat squeaking when I sunk into the leather.
I drove. To another city, another bar. My outburst in the early hours of the morning pulling me back down to earth. I’d kill her if given the chance, I know in my instincts that she’d be dead before I could kiss her again if I stayed. At least that’s what I tell myself. Don’t get attached, don’t keep company long, drink and fight like a dog until your body can’t take it any longer. I didn’t know why I was being tormented with these nightmares again, that thing whatever it was felt so real that I could see it in my mind, those tree like limbs reaching out for me every time I looked out on the tree line of the back mountain roads. Signs telling me about sin and how to save myself from it. “Jesus said I am the way the truth and the life, believe now or face eternal suffering” but I’m finding it hard to believe when the only truth I’ve ever been told came from a a deer split open on the middle of the highway.

I took random exits, anywhere to get away from this.

 

————-
I woke up with him gone, the empty feeling of my bed alerting me to his absence. knew I wasn’t going to see him for another few weeks if I was lucky. The smell of his leather and smoke still lingering in my head. I spent my day laying on the couch, my computer heavy on my lap while the snow came down in blankets, the heat in my apartment hardly keeping me warm. I ached for company, I ached for that tap on my sliding glass door that terrified me the first time I heard it.

My head bumped with the pain of staring at screens for an entire day, the knot in my stomach all too familiar. I thought about him all day, I paced my floor in between distracting myself with movies and music. My nails bit down the skin, polish gritting on my teeth like sandpaper. I knew where this was headed. I knew my mind would not let me rest until I got some reassurance, to talk to him. The sun went down and I watched the door, I watched for any movement or shine to show me that he was there but there was nothing, I didn’t eat, afraid the nervous twist in my stomach would just force anything I pushed down my throat back up in chunks.

I eventually fell asleep on the couch, restless and waking up every hour or two expecting him to be waiting on the other side of the glass but nothing. Not as the sun came up ,not as I brushed out my hair and put on my work uniform, not as I twisted the key to the ignition in my car, not as I lazily waited tables and checked the empty ones from the corner of my eye for a flash of black hair and leather.

Days passed the feeling of inescapable dread growing lighter. The knot in my stomach eventually dissipated, work droning out the feeling of worry and replacing it with a numbness that was bearable. I accepted he wasn’t there. He wasn’t going to be, I don’t know what I expected out of someone I hadn’t known for long enough to care but long enough to get to know. Snow fell on my lashes while I took the trash to the dumpster at the other end of the alley. While dread filled my senses. A streetlight only there to illuminate part of the dark back alley. The cold nipping at my exposed arms while that familiar ache still lingered at the bottom of my chest. I lifted the lid to the dumpster, hauling the garbage bag over my shoulder and into the putrid hatch before closing it back up.

Arms, strong and broad grabbing at my waist and pulling me in from behind made me let out a surprised screech, a familiar voice urging me to not be scared, that it was ok made my heartbeat jump out of its confined cage.

“it’s okay it’s me” his voice lingerie to my aching mind, worry suddenly washing away like sidewalk chalk in the rain.

I wiggled out of his arms, turning around to face him so I’d be face level with his chest, the thermal quality of his body making me want to sink in and stay there.

“Where have you been?” I crossed my arms, my voice barely over a whisper while his face fell a bit, looking away while I attempted to pry where he had been out of his lips.
“I left you a note” he pushed my hair out of my face, his thumb resting on my cheek gently while he loomed over me, his voice came out in broken up words while he tried to think of something. “I don’t stay in one place long.”
I stayed where I was in his warmth, the thin cardigan I was allowed to wear over my uniform didn’t help with the bitter cold that bit my fingertips even though I was angry I didn’t have the strength to move away from him.
“You should have called”
He laughed, the familiar placement of his hands on the middle of my back but not low enough to be disrespectful shook with his low rumble.
“You think a man like me would have a phone church mouse?”
I hit his chest with my free hand, looking towards the back door that was left ajar. They wouldn’t fire me if I left right now would they?
“I was worried.” No I was scared. I was scared he had grown bored of me. But the way he held me against his chest suggested otherwise.
“You don’t have to worry about me.” I looked up at him, eyes trained on his while he smiled down at me. Hands moving to the sides of my face while he pulled me to him. His lips were warm on mine, the taste of Tobacco fresh on his tongue while we made gentle passes over each others lips. I pulled away while he groaned in protest.
“I have to go back to work, I’m surprised they haven’t come out here to make sure I wasn’t mugged”
His hands gripped my hips when I started moving for the back door, hoping they wouldn’t be too upset about the fact I took a ten minute break while taking out the trash. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his words muffled by my hair. “Just come with me, I’ll give you whatever you could have made in tips today.” I was already thinking of that, but I don’t know how I would get out of ditching work.
“I’d get fired”

“I’ll take care of you”
I thought about that phrase. I’ll take care of you. His words were quiet, sincere. I thought for a minute, my mind racing at every possibility. I wondered how many people would care if I went missing.
My eyes were drifting and he seemed to notice, gently grabbing my chin and lifting it to face him. “I’ve got enough gas to get us to Montana, they will survive without you here”
He pleaded with me. From the look in his eyes I could tell that he was telling me nothing but the truth and I sighed what else was there for me here besides waiting tables , getting yelled at by customers and daytime Tv.
“Ok”
The loud creaking of the back door alerted me as it slammed into the concrete of the building. My coworker came to see what was taking me so long just to take the trash out. He yelled out when Jeff picked me up and ran out of the back alley towards the parking lot, clearly not thinking of the implications of him basically kidnapping me from my place of work. I stifled a laugh as he the blue pickup came into view, my coworker not being able to keep up with his pace while Jeff cursed under his breath.
“Shit you’re heavier than you look”
The plush of the leather bench seat squished under me when be threw me in, slamming the door while he hauled ass into the drivers side. I saw my managers standing outside with the poor guy who witnessed the whole thing, hands pressed to the glass while I watched them get smaller and smaller in the rear view window.

Chapter 9: Dirty dog

“Where you coming from?” I was snapped out of my bourbon induced trance. I drove myself five hours out of Colorado, three weeks. just to escape her. Her smell , her laugh. Something I cared for. The man sitting across from me at the Kansas dive bar I had driven to looked at me with, something in his eyes. Something lustful. I laughed, placing the glass down onto the bar and turned towards him. The woman I knew back at home forgotten. Home I know her as home but I couldn’t stop myself from speaking to this man with the same grit in his voice as I. “Nowhere, just riding. You a trucker?” He cracked a half smile, white teeth shining through tobacco colored lips, voice singing to me real low. I was drunk, drunk of the sweet fire of bourbon and this mans voice sweet as honey. “I prefer modern cowboy”. I raised an eyebrow, slightly insulted by the declaration, bored enough to indulge him , wanting to be distracted enough to play pool with him, and just enough of a down dirty dog to sleep with him.

He took me back to the motel he was hung up at, and I did things I am not proud of. Things in my youth I used to anger my father. Things they did to me in prison, things that still make my hands shake and my eyes water and send me to a place the devil himself wouldn’t go to. And I missed her. Soft hands, breathy moans only an angel could replicate. my nights with men are never pleasant the morning after. I killed the man with white teeth and a deep voice smooth as butter. I put a round into his skull in the motel parking lot, and took tooth for the things he did, bragged about. Siphoned his gas and headed back to my girl. The one thing I knew would still be there, the one person who didn’t see me as a commodity.

I drove, not really sure what or where she would be. The long Kansas roads stretching out in endless plains turned into the mountain side. I contemplated how she would react, if she would say yes to going with me. I needed someone like her with me for selfish reasons, taking care of her gave me responsibility to take care of myself. I need company to keep me grounded, a woman to love me unconditionally despite my horrific flaws and stay. I touched the cross hanging from my neck as I pulled into the diners parking lot and waited by the back alley, building up the courage to walk in there, prepared to cause a scene when I saw her, long hair flowing down her back and too heavy trash bag in hand. I waited for her to open the hatch and drop in the putrid smelling old food and napkins before I grabbed her by the waist and pull her into my chest while she squealed.
“Hey hey its ok its me, its me”
She wriggled her way out of my grip and turned to face me , her expression bewildered as if she were a deer caught in headlights and her cheeks and nose flushed from the cold air. I missed her.
‘You asshole where have you been” she hit my chest lightly while I held her arms, her head now resting in my chest while I ran my hands up and down her back. I struggled with if I should tell her, about the man, where I had gone, why I had left but I couldn’t find the words. I am a coward of a man
“I left you a note.” I pulled her back out from her place on my chest, pushing strands of hair out of her face gently while looking into those eyes.
“I don’t stay in one place long, just a safety thing. And the need to run away from things that might be too fragile”
I could tell she was mad, I could tell from the way she tried to push out but didn’t pull away because she wanted to be held.
“You should have called” her voice was small, timid almost like a church mouse. Not the fiery and quick witted anger that I knew and I laughed. I hadn’t had a phone let alone a number in years.
“You think I carry a phone with me church mouse?” She hit my chest again before she looked back at the alleyway door, cracking a smile then lying through her teeth “I was worried” I tilted my head to the side, holding her head to my chest and cradling It.
“You don’t have to worry about me doll” I held her face, leaning down to kiss her lips gently as she reciprocated. The sweetness of her lips instantly made my shoulders relax while the menthol from her cigarettes sent electricity down my spine.
She pulled away from me and I followed her lips, watching her look back at the door again.
“I should get back before they fire me”
I should ask her now, to leave with me. Go somewhere I could really soak her in
“Just come with me, I can give you what you would’ve made in tips today” I had the funds, I robbed the man at the dive bar blind after the bullet ran through his skull. I need her to say yes.
She bit her lip, running a stray hand through her hair. “Id get fired”
I held her hip, gently pulling her towards me, gently pleading with her in my eyes “I’ll take care of you.” I didn’t want to rip her away from this life, her family, her friends. But I am selfish, I wanted her all to myself so no one else could have her. I watched her face again, twisting concern with this became submissive, she looked at her uniform, then back to the door. “Ok”

If on some sort of cue, it swung open, the short balding man emerging from the kitchen door looked at me horrified as I picked her up , essentially throwing her over my shoulder and booking it as his legs couldn’t keep up with my pace. She frantically looked behind us, watching her poor coworker try to play hero when I was well aware how this looked. I don’t know why I didn’t just let her quit. Maybe out of fear she would change her mind. So I kidnaped her, fuck this is going to be all over the news. We’d have to go farther than Montana.
“Hey hey! Put her down asshole!” I rolled my eyes as his voice got further away , the mans middle aged body only able to carry him so far on those short legs. once I got to my truck and threw her in, starting the ignition and peeling out of the parking lot and onto the highway. That’s when she turned to me, angry.
“Turn around.” I didn’t listen or respond to her. Just drove turning off the highway and off onto a back road.
She scooted closer to me on the bench seat and punched me in the arm.
“I said turn around Jeff they are going to be fucking looking for me! Do you want a damn bounty on your head that was a violent way of taking me on a roadtrip!”
I snapped at her, for the first time but not the last. I couldn’t take the anger, the screaming. “QUIT.” I pushed her away from me on my seat, locking the door, and pushing my foot down on the gas. “You don’t have a life back there anyway. Working that job that pays you shit and a roommate that’s never around. The news won’t even run a ten minute segment on you.” I didn’t mean for that to sound the way it did, demeaning and cruel. But that’s the way I am, a drunk who doesn’t realize his words cut deeper than his hunting knife. I watched her eyes turn misty in the reflection of the frosted over window. I tried to reach her hand but she wouldn’t let me touch her while she played with the hemline of her bright yellow work uniform.
“I wouldn’t have said yes if I knew you could ever speak to me that way.” Her cracked voice made leeway for a slight southern accent to come out and she shivered. She shivered and I wanted to sink into my seat for making her feel the way I felt as a child, that burning fear that encapsulated my youth was all too familiar.
“Church mouse I didn’t mean it like that, I just. I was scared you’d change your mind.” I watched her jaw tighten
“I wouldn’t have, you didn’t have to say that and make me feel worse than I already do.” I reached out a hand toward her, patting the spot closest to where I was sitting, the other hand on the wheel. “I am sorry” I meant it, even if she thought I didn’t. “We will get you a change of clothes, something warm and unrecognizable then we can stop somewhere for the night until then come closer. Its cold and I don’t have heat” I watched her slowly let her guard down and scoot over, tucking herself underneath my arm the cold creeping in from the outside as we kept each other warm. “I’m sorry Jess.” Her tears got wiped off on the leather of my jacket as the sun disappeared into the mountains.
——————
I eventually fell asleep on his lap, the bumpy quality of the road waking me from time to time as we drove. The reality of my situation hitting me. I couldn’t just go back home. People would ask questions I wouldn’t be ready to answer and I couldn’t without raising more. I forgot it for now, I watched the stars and street lights pass by , concentrating on the clouds passing over the night sky while the light pollution got further and further away the more we drove. The stars danced in my vision, creating a glittering blur while my eyes went from the bottom of his jaw to the window I eventually drifted into a slow dreamless sleep while the warmth of his legs cradled my head, his large leather jacket draped over the rest of my body.

I woke up to a gentle tap on my shoulder, the shiver from the bitter night air shocking my body when he opened the door. “You hungry?”. He helped me sit up, a run down gas station in front of us like an oasis. I was admittedly hungry and I knew we needed gas.
“Yeah, where are we?” I wiped the mascara from my face as he took the key from the ignition and patted my head before he looked around at the road signs
“Somewhere between Colorado and Wyoming, I figured we could head south east at some point but for now I know an abandoned church west of here if you want to sleep there, there’s also a motel close if you want to spend some money.”
I nodded, hopping out of the truck and trying to hand his jacket back to him but he threw it around my shoulders.
“You’re gonna get frostbite.”
“So will you doll, I’ve spent colder nights out here. Ill go out tomorrow and find you something other than that uniform to wear, until then I have some old shirts you can wear”
He threw an arm around my shoulder while we walked into the gas station with peeling paint and flickering neon signs advertising beer and cigarettes. God I needed a cigarette. He held the door open for me as the heat from the inside hit me like a freight train . The smells from the inside made my stomach growl. Hot dogs too old to be safe to eat rolled on their altar of grease and black char too close to a case of doughnuts. I scanned each isle for something remotely appetizing, landing on a plastic wrapped pastry and a bottle of Mr. Pibb. I watched Jeff payoff his gas with wadded up bills for a wallet I knew wasn’t his before he turned to me, waving me over.
“You get everything you want?”
I nodded, looking at the jaded older woman across the counter who was staring at my mascara stained eyes. I think she thought something was wrong as she rang us up because she slid me a lighter from across the counter as we were leaving. I lit a cigarette as he pulled the gas pump from its stand. I watched his hands, the gentle press of the pump akin to a gun trigger. I took a deep drag off of my cigarette while I watched, his hips lined to the gas cap.
“how far is it to that motel?”
I asked my cigarette, leaning my head out the window and using my other hand to prop myself up. He looked around, like he was going to find out how far we were on the wind.
“About 20 miles west, we can sleep there and figure out where to go. Anywhere you want.”
He tapped my nose, putting the pump back on the fuel dispenser and waved for me to scoot over . I racked my brain for a minute, anywhere. There were a lot of places I had dreamed about seeing, other places I just had never seen. I missed Georgia, Alabama, Louisiana. The south cradled me for so long. I thought of the places I hadn’t been, Oregon, Nebraska, Washington, California. I wanted to go everywhere.
“I’ll pull a state out of a hat”
He laughed at that, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot while I stared out the window at the stars again. Searching endlessly for the motel that he didn’t seem to know the exact location of. He scooted up further on his seat, straining as he tried to look out at the plain road for any sign of life. Until finally, there it was. The bright neon sign shaped like a moon standing out against the stark blackness of the night sky.

Notes:

This is my version of Jeff the killer, I have a post up on my tumblr (Crystalgastles) that has headcannons as well as visuals. I will post the headcannons here too if you can’t go to tumblr.

My Jeff does not have a great memory, he blocks out things that he doesn’t want to remember and when he does remember them it’s so intense to the point he believes it’s happening again. He does not say my characters name for most of the story because of this. He loved them like he loved his family and something happened to them that he doesn’t want to remember, something he did. Or thinks he did.

* grew up in a baptist church community with a distant father and overbearing mother who somehow also didn’t pay enough attention to what happened to her son in that church
* Oldest son, most independent son. More is expected of him.
* Journal’s everything, especially his homicidal ideations. locks that journal in a wooden trinket box
* As he reached his teen years his parents started to try and get him to go to church with them again even after he threw a vase and knocked a box tv over the last time
* In a band during his teen years
* Insane about music, believes his music taste is the end all be all of music tastes
* Picks up roadkill and collects the bones. He likes animals and will never hurt them. Animals don’t care about the things you’ve done
* Guilt is his base emotion, any other emotion he feels is underlined by the heavy pressure of being better
* Dad forced him to get baptized, five grown men had to hold him down when he was 14 just to get him in that water.he still refuses to go swimming
* Attempted to kill liu to save him, because god didn’t love him enough to but Jeff did
* The murder of his mother was swift. He didn’t want her to suffer, it wasn’t her fault his father was the man he was
* His fathers was brutal, he recreated the religious trauma inflicted on him, talking in a mock televangelist voice “the devil is inside you son! There is no length I won’t go to get him out now!”
* Had three exorcisms performed on him before the age of ten because of his sleep walking, they gave up when he grew out of it
* Was homeschooled up until middle school, he had a good group of friends who he started his band with in highschool
* Moved from home at 17 and lived at a friends until the police came and made him move back in
* He killed his family at 18
* Dropped out of highschool to play shows in the local scene (he got his smile by cutting it open for shock value on stage)
* Misogyny in the church caused him to absolutely despise anyone who is misogynistic, almost never kills women (he does but usually it’s when it is an entire family)
* Doesn’t leave witnesses who can speak, thinks it’s cruel to leave them with the memory
* Tells victims to sleep because he believes he’s comforting them (if they aren’t targeted that is)
* Killed janes father because he was one of the men who held him down to baptize him and boasted about sending his one and only daughter to conversion therapy
* Him and jane were friends in high school
* Kills out of impulse most of the time, paranoid delusions that someone on the street was at the church he used to be forced to go to and only realizes they didn’t when their wounds are already fatal
* Listens to Elliott smith after he feels particularly guilty About a kill
* Waits for liu to call when he finds a house with a landline, he did this when he moved out with a friend at 17. The phone never rings
* If it does he answers and angrily hangs up when it’s not his brother
* Walked into a house fire he caused because he thought it was hell and that’s where he deserved to go (his chest and hands are covered in burn scars)
* Smokers cough, can go through a pack of cigarettes in four hours
* Wears his mothers silver cross even though he doesn’t believe in god, he believes in her though