Death's Slave [Jeff the Killer]

Chapter Fifteen: The Beast

"I love watching you wake up, Pretty Lady," Jeff cooed.

My heart raced, skipping a beat now and then. I pondered how long he had been watching me in my sleep. I could smell the rotten stench of murder that lingered on his clothes, skin, and even his hair. Blood was smeared across his face as if he had wiped it away from his scarred lips. There were really only a few reasons it would look that way. Rising into the dim light, he looked like a monster. He looked like a fictional character with his blood-stained white hoodie, crooked scars, ragged hair, and eyes darkened by trauma and sadness. The dust floating along behind him was as carefree as he; and in that way, he blended into the background; the background being the darkness of the walls of the slaughter house in which the creatures resided, it was the creaking of the flooring and doors, it was the rattling of the windows in the wind.

I imagined that he had been a beautiful young man in the past. Vestige of beauty lined every feature he possessed. He walked gracefully with pride, but not without looking over his shoulder. He was pure muscle and instinct, showing no real signs of compassion or sympathy. Calling him a sociopath would have been an underestimation. I believed he was a complete psychopath in that moment. Not being able to read him was frustrating to me, but he wasn't like most people. After a few moments of silence, my gaze was broken by a sudden, sharp pain in my gut.

Jolting forward, I gasped in pain. My ears began ringing so profusely, I thought for sure the others would hear it. I covered my ears. My vision began to fade, and just before it blackened, I could see two small, feminine hands, covered in blood. Assuming they were mine, I reached out to what was in front of me but felt nothing, for my body had already gone numb.

In an instant, it all stopped. The ringing in my ears and the stabbing in my gut was absent as my vision returned. There was cold liquid running down my neck and chest, being wiped away by a rag. The rag was held by Eyeless Jack.

As my surroundings came into focus once again, I could see the two men crouched in front of me. Jeff placed a hand on my leg and walked out of the room. I assumed he had something more important to tend to.

Just as Jeff shut the old wooden door behind him, Eyeless Jack looked up at me. As I stared into either black abyss where his eyes should have been, I began to relax. There were no signs of his intentions being to hurt me, aside from when I had first arrived. I had assumed, then, that I was to be a new plaything for the nighttime murderers.

Eyeless Jack touched gingerly with tenor hands...

"He's dangerous,"

...and spoke softly with his baritone voice.

Nodding in agreement with his statement, my eyes shifted to the blood. It had gotten all over the bed and my clothes, as well as on Jeff and Jack.

"Why did he leave?" I inquired, changing the dynamics of the conversation before it began.

"Jeff doesn't like sharing," he answered.

"So he thinks I'm just a toy that he would consider his property? I'm so fed up with this. I want to go home, Jack," I cried.

I then realised I had just remembered his name. He placed a hand on my check and sighed. He had heard it before.

"No one he's ever taken has lasted this long. It's already been a few months. Anyone else has only ever survived a few days. I think you're gunna be okay, and you may come to like this place," Eyeless Jack explained.