Sweet Sweet Slumber: A Jeff the Killer love story

Chapter 6: Monsters

         It had been several years since all of those events came to pass. To be exact it had been about 7 years. I was twenty three and living on my own. I was doing very well for myself. At the age of eighteen, I published two books of poetry and went to college to major in Nuclear Science and minor in Literature. Because of my determination I graduated high school early and took courses online as well as normal courses. I got a degree in Astronomy, Marine Biology, and Culinary Arts and was very good at playing the piano. Yes, I was the ideal student but to be honest, I was unhappy. I was constantly thinking about Jeff and work was the only thing that kept my mind away from him. So I buried myself in it. It was the only way to keep myself sane. I barely slept and rarely went out with friends. I was still just as friendly and chipper as I had always been but now it was more difficult to maintain that state of pep for long. Now that I had accomplished so much the only things to work on were my PhD and Doctrine. Because of the pace that I worked at it wouldn’t take me many more years to get those but I was nothing more than a machine, afraid of feeling her own emotions.

            My older sister, Carmen disappeared about two months after my eighteenth birthday. She left a note saying that she needed to be on her own and away from all these distractions. Nobody had heard from her since. I could only hope that wherever she was, she was safe. I lived in my own house in Sandia Heights. It was one of the nicest neighborhoods I knew of. The houses there were extremely expensive and I was just lucky to have one. Because of my success and poetry, I attracted a bit of attention. One person in particular was infatuated with me. An artist from England had traveled to New Mexico to see me. He said that my poetry inspired him and that he must meet this poetic wonder. I was flattered but I soon came to realize that he was just a spoiled, wealthy man that stilled lived with his father. He was a millionaire and because of this, he was able to cater to the boy’s every whim.

            His name was Walter, Walter Peddingzhu. His last name didn’t sound very English but his accent cleared up any suspicion I might have had. He spent many days with me and I went along just amuse him. After all he did come all the way from England to see me. He took me out to dinner many times and enjoyed talking about his latest creation. At one point he even asked me to marry him. I politely declined. Being with him would have set me for life but I wouldn’t have been willing to give up everything for financial stability. I wasn’t doing badly and I could manage well enough on my own. Seeing as how I wouldn’t marry him, he bought me an extravagant gift; the house of my dreams. On a drive the two of us took together, I showed him where it was that I would hope to live someday. I told him that I couldn’t accept the gift but he had already bought it, telling me that if I would not accept it, than it would just stand empty for the rest of its days. Seeing as there was no arguing with him, I accepted his gift. He left two days after that. The house was completely furnished with everything I had ever hoped to have. A few days later I got a letter from Walter’s father. He wished me well and hoped I would enjoy the house. He also apologized for his son’s superior attitude. He said that I was the new toy of the moment and he would not have missed an opportunity to see me and try to impress me with his wealth. He said he would have to talk to his son about his spending habits. The letter made laugh.

            I invited my family to come live with me but my mother loved her house too much now. I was alone in the massive building. I didn’t really mind but at times the silence was oppressive. Many of my friends thought that I needed a boyfriend or a girlfriend. They didn’t care; they just wanted me to have somebody. I was set up on many dates and they all went very well. It was when things began to get intimate that everything went downhill. I couldn’t look at the people I was kissing and anytime I allowed them to let their hands roam, I felt disgusted with myself. No, I just couldn’t get over Jeff. It was too painful. The only person who really understood my reasons were Skye. She and I had remained very good friends. She had become an accomplished fiction writer and had a huge fan base that was steadily increasing. Her fans were creepy though, it was almost as if they were under her control. I brought this to her attention but she just brushed me off and said that it was a part of the “Big Plan”, whatever that was.