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Spring slipped by into summer, and summer into fall. A soft chill wormed its way into your bones, but you hardly felt it. For the last six months, you’d been as light as a feather and everyone could tell. Though you had never shared your problem with your coworkers, they had noticed immediately your change of personality. It was nice not jumping at every shadow now–and you had reconnected with family and friends, too.
Though your mother and father had offered for you to come back and live with them for a while, and move back to the city you were born in–you chose not to. Your job was nice, and you had made quite a few new friends along the way. Still, though, you had definitely made time to go back on weekends and vacations.
Every walk home was full of reflection–despite the fact that you had truly never wanted to see the man who had killed your stalker at the time, as the days and weeks passed, you grew a bit restless. You had never thanked him for that. He had intended to kill you, but he hadn’t, nor had he ever come back to finish the job. Your curiosity had finally gotten the best of you about two weeks after the incident, when you looked up killer with scar over left side of face . For your efforts, you received a name: Jeffery Woods. Louisiana-born, far from where you were born yourself. Killed his parents and had never stopped since.
Now you had no idea if you were the only one he spared, but considering his growing body count, you doubted it. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been keeping tabs on him–or his kills, rather. You told yourself you were just making sure that he didn’t get too close again to finish the job.
Your dress shoes clacked on the concrete as you turned down a side street, humming to yourself. Today after work, instead of going straight home, you were going to treat yourself. A nice ice cream cone and a trip to the park. Sure, it was a bit chilly outside for ice cream, but you were craving it.
Fifteen minutes later you were settled on a park bench, watching the sunset through the throng of trees. Pinks and oranges blend together as the night draws closer, the moon slowly becoming more visible. You slowly lick at your ice cream, settling in comfortably. There were a few people in the park–a couple walking their dog, a father trying to round up his brood of children. Though you knew none of them, you still felt comfort in watching them go about their mundane lives.
Even after they left and you had finished your ice cream, you sat and waited in the darkness, only the moon, stars, and street lights filling the world. After the events in the spring, you hadn’t felt afraid of the darkness, though. You lean back, shutting your eyes as you sigh. The night stretched on, leaving only the sounds of crickets and frogs as they went about their nocturnal business.
You were so out of it, you had forgotten that the world was a dangerous place at night. The tingling sensation of being watched hit you like a bullet, and you snapped your eyes open, anxiety fluttering like a trapped bird in your chest. Your eyes met electric blue ones, terrifyingly familiar. You swallow with difficulty.
He wasn’t trapping you in, both hands curled around the edge of the bench’s plastic back on either side of your shoulders, but it sure felt like it. Something about his gaze forced you still, frozen in time.
“Having a stable routine is dangerous, Y/N.” He stated, that lisp coming back to you just as clear as it was in your memory. Was it because of his injury? “Especially ones that leave you all alone in the dark. Have you learned nothing?” His tone was teasing almost, but his eyes were serious and cold.
“Y-You,” you breathe out in a slight panic, “w-why are you here?” Your tongue felt like lead as you spoke, trying to choke you as your throat closed up entirely. Even if you wanted to scream, you wouldn’t have been able to. Fight or Flight had kicked in, but your body had picked fawn of all things.
“I had ‘business’. Although I think you’re a bit more interesting than that, so my ‘business’ can wait.” He was quick, as quick as a striking viper. You whimper as his hand draws around your throat, lightly cupping your jaw from behind, pulling your head back to get a better look at you. “You were good, right? You didn’t tell anyone?” There was a threat hidden somewhere in there, with the light squeeze of his fingers, his sharp nails digging into your flesh.
“N-no one,” You confirm, “Not a so-soul.” He narrows his eyes at you for a moment, scrutinizing your words and expression, as if searching for a lie. Apparently he found you truthful, because his thumb draws lightly across your jawline before he lets go of you, leaving you to finally snap out of your seat like a bat out of hell. You hope he can’t see your shaking legs.
“Aww, come on. Do I look like I am going to hurt you?” Jeffery said in his southern drawl, a smirk playing on his face. The yellow lamplight danced across his skin, giving him an almost sickly glow. Instead of moving toward you, he leaned over the bench, resting his elbows on it casually. “You wound me, darling.”
Darling ? DARLING ? You liked to think of yourself as a reasonable human being. An intelligent one, even. You knew he was bad. In fact, worse than bad. Death-penalty bad. But fuck, the way he said that drew something out of you. You shook your head to shake away the blush threatening to rise in your cheeks, forcing a frown onto your face.
“I think it’s a reasonable thing to think, with your record and all,” you tried to sound uninviting, accusatory, but it came out much weaker than you’d wanted. “And I know you’ve got your knife on you.” The scarred man regarded you thoughtfully for a moment before tugging his knife out of his pocket, clean this time. Sort of. You could still see the blood staining it, but it wasn’t fresh.
You freeze, swallowing hard. His eyes light up at your reaction, an even wider cheshire grin forming on his face, but he didn’t move to use it on you. Instead, he threw it uselessly behind you with a shrug. “No more knives.” He told you, “And I don’t like killing with my bare hands. It’s not messy enough.”
“Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“It’s whatever you want it to be.” Was the purr you got in return, the killer finally shifting from his position behind the bench. With no more barrier between you and him, you felt much less safe. You could tell you were simply a rabbit being stalked by a leopard, utterly defenseless against those sharp claws and gnashing fangs. Still, he moved slowly, giving you ample opportunity to flee if you wanted to try.
But you had no doubt he’d give chase, if only for the thrill . In fact, it seemed he was expecting you to run. He seemed slightly shocked you hadn’t. You flinch as his cold hand wraps around the back of your neck, drawing upward to twine his fingers into your hair. “What? Killer got your tongue?”
He laughed at his own joke, raspy and guttural. The corner of your mouth twitches, though you weren’t quite sure if it was your urge to survive or actual amusement. In a moment he could snap your neck or throw you to the ground and grab his knife and stab you, or any number of things. Your eyes met his once more, full of fear. Jeff thrived off of that emotion.
“You wanna know somethin’?” He leaned forward, breath bathing your face, “I was truthful when I said I found ya interesting. Much more interesting than anyone else in this shitty city. But I also don’t know what to do with you.” his fingers wound tight, pulling at your locks. You whimper, leaning your head back to relieve some of the pressure as your hands snap out at his shoulders to push him away, digging your fingers into his suspiciously red hoodie. “Let ya go? Risk you goin’ to the pigs? Or should I kill ya now? ‘Cause ya know, two can keep a secret if one of ‘em’s dead.”
He snorted at this, at your horrified expression.
He leaned into your touch. “But I’ll tell you this, too, Y/N. I don’t really wanna do that. So if you stay a good boy and keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut, I’ll make sure that no one bothers you. Ever . Sounds like a good deal, right, darling?”
Something told you to say yes. That any other answer would lead to your rather untimely demise. You manage to choke out a strangled, “so-sounds good,” as his fingers leave your hair to run along your jaw for a second time that night, featherlight. As if Jeff truly believed you were breakable.
“Good.” He held you for a moment, eyes keeping you frozen in place, before letting his hand drop and pulling away. Whatever sensation you both were feeling was broken in a split second, and he leaned over to grab up his knife. You jump back again, but he simply shoves it into his hood pocket with a hum.
“Well, then, Y/N,” he took a few steps back, “I’ll be seein’ you.” He gave you a wink, raising his eyebrows after for emphasis. You shiver. Something about the way he said it made you think that you wouldn’t be seeing him , only him you.
You watch him walk away, a cold numbness drawing itself over your heart, locking your emotions away. You had hoped the entire ordeal could be put behind you, but it seemed that he wouldn’t let you go now.
You needed someplace safe to think, and the safest place was your home–you wouldn’t bother running this time. You knew Jeff would find you, no matter where you went. He was like a bloodhound, and you’d seen the evidence in a few of his victims. However, for now you weren’t on his hit list, and that was something you had to be grateful for.
It took you fifteen minutes to get home at a dead sprint, terrified he’d change his mind for no reason. A killer’s mind was fickle, after all. You had studied psychology in college, and you knew that these kinds of people simply latched onto things that were different. It didn’t have to have a reason. Whatever you did to make yourself interesting to Jeffery Woods, it was what was keeping you alive. The moment he no longer found you interesting, he’d cut you open.
So how could you prevent that?
As you collapsed down onto your couch, you wondered if you could prevent it at all.
Something scratched at the back of your neck, and you furrowed your brows as you reached awkwardly into the back of your shirt, pulling out a small slip of paper. On it was a number and nothing else.
Your breath caught in your throat. Jeff had given you a way to contact him. More importantly, he was giving you the choice of contacting him first. Just what was the game that he was playing with you…?