The Killer's Girl (Watty Awards 2013)

Chapter 6- Meeting BEN

Iris's P.O.V.

The next morning, my ankle felt a lot better, so I stood up and began to clean his house up. It didn't take me long to find where everything was and went. I stepped close to Jeff and I let out a yelp. His eyes were wide open, I thought he was staring at me. "You sleep with you eyes open? Creepy, but I can live with it." I muttered, walking away.

When I got into his room, I found a few pictures. Being the sneaky girl that I was, I wanted to see what they were of. I saw a little boy, maybe thirteen or twelve, with another boy of the exact same age. They both had silky brown hair, one with slightly longer hair, and smiles on their faces.

"Is Jeff stalking these boy or something? Is he a pedophile?" I asked quietly. 

"I'm not a pedophile." said a voice from across the room.

"What are you doing in my room?" he asked.

"Oh... I was cleaning when I came across these pictures. Who are these kids?" I asked. He ripped it out of my hand, the first time he'd ever been rude to me.

"Hey, you have no right to rip something from my hand, asshole!" I yelled.

"And you don't have any right to be fucking around in my room!" he screamed back. I closed my eyes for a minute.

"I'm sorry. You... You're right." I admitted. Then I remembered... "Wait, you kidnapped me, are holding me here to live with you, take me to a place that smells rancid, and expect me to feel bad for exploring? Fuck that, man."

I stomped out of his room in annoyance and continued cleaning. Everything was going pretty well until I saw another room.

It had a few trophies on shelves, and a metal hung from the wall. Two boxing gloves were hung on the wall, and there were at least two punching bags.

"What is this?" I asked softly to myself.

"It's my little private room, but I don't see any reason why you can't look around." said a voice from behind me.

"Oh... Okay." I examined the trophies. Wait, so I could be in his private room, but looking at a picture was unacceptable?

"When I was eleven, my mom signed me up for boxing. I thought I would hate it, but it ended up being my favorite hobby. It's fun as hell to just punch the shit out of stuff. Watch as they suffer and squirm... Look terrified... Having them beg..." A disturbing smile grew.

"So... I'm going to asume that this is what you do when you're not kidnapping girls?" I asked.

"Yeah, pretty much. I kinda miss being to fight other people, but oh well. Nobodies gonna let a serial killer in to a fight club." 

"Can you show me some moves?" I asked.

"Uh... Sure, I guess. He thought for a minute. "I can show you a basic jab." he suggested. "I don't care." I said. "Okay, so here..." He stayed in stance  and extended his fist, punching the air.

"You just tease them with jabs and tense them until crossing with your backhand and hitting them. Never leave stance."

"Cool." I said. I hated him, but I did think that boxing was pretty damn cool. I noticed that there was a jump rope in the back.

"What? Do you jump rope, too?" I asked, laughing.

"It's training, most boxers jump rope. I'm actually considered pretty small for a boxer, but I'm pretty good at it. I wouldn't have all of those trophies and medals if I wasn't." I nodded.

"Does boxing help when you do your killing?" I asked. "Yeah, actually. If I feel like leaving one alive because I'm too lazy to kill them, I beat them until they're unconscious and then carve smiles like mine into their faces. A fun way to train and make someone beautiful. Kill two birds with one stone."