Corrupted (Jeff the Killer Fanfiction) Book 1

Chapter Thirteen

Emily's POV
      I felt as if I was laying in the clouds.
      So long had it been since I felt the comfort of a bed and the feeling of a warm blanket draped over my unconscious figure. So long had it been since my head could rest in the comfort of a fluffy, white pillow that could do no harm to my already beaten skull.
      I silently hummed as I felt the sun's ray of light against my closed eyelids. For the first time in god knows how long, I slept soundly throughout the entire night. It was a beautiful, dreamless sleep.
      This can't actually be happening. I shot straight up from the bed with wide eyes as I scanned the room I was in. A desk across from the bed I was sitting in, a bathroom to my far left, and a secondary, empty bed next to mine. I really was out of that damned asylum, and I really was lying in a bed. Wait... the second bed is empty.
      Where the actual fuck is Jeff?
      I threw the heavy blankets off of me and jumped out of the bed. In the blink of an eye I was at his bed, searching the covers for anything of his that could tell me that he had been here. The sheets were cold; wrinkled, and messy. He had to have been gone for quite some time. I checked the bathroom. The door was already open and the light was off. He wasn't in there. I hurried to the front door, swinging it open to check the entire area. Only a few cars were present; not even a single person was out yet. Jeff wasn't there.
      I turned back into the room, slowly closing the door behind me as I scanned my brain for places he could have gone. He could have gone back in the woods for something. Yeah. That's where he must have been. He'll be back... right?
      That's when I noticed a dark piece of clothing on the desk. I slowly made my way up to it, realizing that it was a black t-shirt with jeans. A small piece of ripped paper lied next to it. I picked it up, reading the sloppy black ink.

Dear Emily,
      I left you some clothes so that you don't have to wear that god-forsaken jumpsuit anymore. Oh, and some cash is in the pant pockets. It should be enough for food and whatever other shit you need. Don't waste your time coming to look for me, because you won't find me. Live your life that was taken from you so many years ago. Don't fuck it up.
- Jeff

      I reread the letter over and over again, hoping to find somewhere in it that hinted that he wasn't really gone.
      But he was really gone.
      Why would he do this? He left me once, then came back, and then left me again! Only this time, he has been gone for a much longer period of time. I should have known that he had no intentions of keeping me around. He's a serial killer for god sake! Why would he want to pull a poor, beaten girl around with him? He wouldn't, and I should have seen it coming.
      I angrily crumbled up the piece of paper, shrieking as I threw it across the room as hard as I could. The sound of it bouncing off of the wall only irritated me more.
      I turned my gaze to the clothes Jeff had left for me. Picking up the t-shirt, I immediately noticed it's not-too-large, but not-too small size. It would be baggy on me, but I couldn't care less. The jeans looked to be a decent fit, maybe a little long, but it would work.
      Slowly slipping off my jumpsuit, I realized just how much I needed a wardrobe change. My skin was covered in sweat and dirt. The fabric of the jumpsuit stuck to the grime that coated my skin. I can't   remember the last time I was washed... time isn't  exactly relevant to me. All I know is that it's been a long time.
      I kicked off the last bit of the jumpsuit, standing completely bare of anything. Looking down at myself, I noticed all the bumps from my bones, and the scars that covered my body. I traced a few of them that was on my stomach with my finger, slowly gliding it across the delicate skin.
      I saw movement in the corner of my eye. I snapped my head to the left to see myself staring back at me. The mirror in the bathroom was visible, revealing to me everything it saw. I wondered if there was anyone watching behind it like there always was in the asylum.
      Grabbing the clothes from the desk, I slowly approached the bathroom, watching myself walk towards myself. I stopped once I felt my lower stomach touch the cold surface of the sink. I could see myself much clearer.
      My long and messy warm brown hair trailed down to my hip in tangles. My eyes were sunken, portraying the pits of hell that I had experienced throughout the majority of my life; my icy blue irises looked dark in the shadows the room casted. My cheeks looked sunken like I had been dead for some time.
      I slowly lifted my right arm to the light switch, flipping it up. Immediately all the shadows were gone, as well as the darkness my eyes had casted on my face. The bright blue was back, seemingly slicing through the glass of the mirror with their gaze. My cheeks didn't seem as hollow. I looked much more alive; yet, I couldn't say the same for how I felt.
      I turned my gaze to the shelves to my right, seeing a couple of unused, white towels and washcloths. A curtain was pulled to the far left side of the wall, revealing a bathtub with a shower head. I slowly stepped one foot into the tub, careful not to lose my balance, and then stepped the other foot into the tub.
      I gazed at the controls of the shower, trying to figure out how it works. Do I turn it? Which way do I turn it? Maybe I pull it. Fuck it, I'm just gonna go for it.
      I grabbed the nob and turned it to the right. I jumped as water began pouring from the bottom pipe. I put my hand other the cold water, feeling it delicately drip from my hand.
      After a couple minutes of fiddling with the controls, water stopped pouring from the pipe before spraying from the shower head above me.
      "Ah! Shit!" I yelped as the icy cold water hit my back.
      I didn't know how to make it warmer, so I just sat in it until I was used to it's icy cold temperature. Once I was somewhat comfortable with it, I looked around for something to use. I found small, white tubes sitting on a ledge on the wall. I took one, reading it's label.
      Conditioner.
      I figured that this must be what I use to wash myself. So, I screwed the small container open, and poured it's contents into my hand. Once I had half of it in my hand, I put the container back on the ledge and slowly rubbed the thick, creamy liquid all over my body.
      Rubbing up and down my arms, legs, and torso, I cleansed myself of all the dirt and grime of all the countless years of pain and suffering from my body. All the punches, kicks, and slaps that I could still feel, wiped away with the swipe of my hand across my skin.
      I used the rest of what was left in the bottle for my hair, combing it through the best I could through the knots and tangles from it constantly being grabbed, yanked at, and ripped.
      Once I felt that I had used all of what was left, I slowly dropped down to the floor, sitting in the middle of the bathtub. I pulled my knees up to my chest, feeling the coldness of the water against my back. Only one thing was running through my mind.
      What am I supposed to do now?