Obsession (A Jeff the Killer Fanfic)

Chapter 14: Complications

(A/N: Before I begin, I just want to apologize for this chapter. It's a small chapter, but it helps set up the next chapter, which should be full of action for you guys. Also, thanks for all the encouraging comments guys. I appreciate it!

*****************

(Grace)

Time flies. The days, the weeks, the months go by in a haze of blood and death.

It's all pretty straightforward. We pick a target once every week. Nobody in particular. Just someone that happens to catch our eye. A fun kill. Always in a different city, of course, so there will be no leads on the murders. We have to be cautious. Then again, it's not as though we can leave fingerprints. We are very careful not to leave shoe prints, or anything else that would place us at the crime scene. Nobody sees us near the scene, we are too stealthy and quiet. We are undetectable, the cold-blooded killers that will never be caught. Angels of death. It's a thrill, knowing that we hold in our hands the fragile lives of the ones unlucky enough to be chosen by us. It's exhilarating. A rush unlike anything I could ever describe. Even when I was human, I had never felt more alive than this. It's like the moment when you reach the top of the first hill on a rollercoaster, and you suddenly realize just how high above everyone else you are.

But then again, just like a rollercoaster, you come down from the hill and the height eventually.

After almost a year or so, my initial rush of exhilaration gives way to something else. I don't understand what I'm feeling, or why I'm feeling it. I can't really place it. It's a feeling foreign to me in my new inhuman body.

Maybe it's the constant moving. We've moved ten times, so nobody connects us to the deaths. Maybe it's the seclusion. We have no friends. We don't speak to humans. Well, except when we kill them, but that hardly counts. We only leave our current home to get food and scope out victims. Nothing else. We don't want to risk being noticed. Essentially, we're hermits. It's a bit tedious, never having human contact (well, besides Jeff, but he doesn't count as "human", and neither do I).

Maybe what I'm feeling is....boredom? I don't know.

I shake my head. "Quit complaining," I mutter to myself. I look over at the clock. 11 AM. Yikes. I overslept. Yawning, I push myself out of bed. I really need to stop whining. I'm lucky; almost nobody gets the chance to experience what I have. I get to experience the thrill of the hunter without fear of consequence. I'm immortal, I'm dangerous, I'm strong, and I'm beautiful. Things I'd never been in my human life. Even though Jeff would disagree on the last part. He insists that I've always been beautiful. It's amazing how stubborn he can be on that subject. I smile to myself.

Jeff. Where is he? It's been really quiet, which isn't normal. Usually, he's up well before me, and I've overslept a few hours. I haven't heard a peep from his room. My smile slips from my face. I should probably check on him. Stifling another yawn, and rumpling my messy bed hair, I plod down the carpeted little hall, and stand outside the door to his room. We don't share a room; for some reason, I'm just not comfortable with the idea of us sleeping together in the same bed. It seems too intimate, and I still don't know the depths of my feelings for him....I shy away from the seriousness that would imply. What we have is, well, intense to say the least, but hardly physical. In THAT sense, anyways. My cheeks heat up thinking about the...physical part.

Focus, Grace. Shushing my inner debate, I knock on his door. When I don't hear any noise from inside, I turn the knob and push the door open slightly. I peer into his room. His bed is neatly made, with no trace that he'd ever slept in it.

He's not here. And he NEVER makes his bed. Huh. That's really weird. Not normal at all. What's going on? I shut my eyes, trying not thinking of all the horrible possibilities. Maybe he just ran to the store....