Summary: You’ve always found it difficult to voice exactly what you want in bed. Good thing your boyfriend Jeff is good at reading between the lines.
CW: 18+ content, explicit sexual content, pretty heavy degradation, knife play, threats of violence, threats of murder, fear tactics, edge play, masochism + sadism, wet and messy, spit and drool, begging gagged with a knife, I didn’t know a proper term for that, mocking, dirty talk, jeff has a nasty fuckin mouth, vaginal fingering, smidgen of a blood kink, unsafe sex, smidgen of dacryphilia, creampie, injuries are inflicted, jeff holds a knife to your throat
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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!
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Dating Jeff had been an absolute roller coaster ride right from the get go.
Seemingly not having a concept of patience, or taking things one step at a time, you constantly found yourself in a tailspin as you tried to keep up with him. Tried to keep up with his impulses, his moods, his uncanny addiction to feeling the grime of blood dry on his skin.
None of these things were bad to you, you wouldn’t have even considered giving him a shot if they were - they were just jarring. Hard to match. You always felt like such a direct opposite to him, his antithesis of sorts.
Where Jeff was erratic and unhinged, you were often lost in thought trying to decide what to have for breakfast next week. You thought things through, Jeff didn’t. You liked order, Jeff didn’t. Jeff loved mess, and violence, and a mouthful of blood when a victim tried to fight back. You didn’t.
It baffled almost everyone around you, how you put up with him. Constantly asked what you saw in him, constantly leaving other people convinced that you had lost a bet or something. It baffled you too sometimes, you wouldn’t lie, but the difference was that you weren’t an outsider looking in. You were a part of it. You knew exactly what it was about Jeff that kept you around.
Jeff soothed something inside you that you hadn’t ever given the time of day before.
You’d say that you hated it, but your stomach flipped every single time you’d watch him stumble back through the front door coated in blood. You’d wince like it hurt, but you’d get butterflies in your gut whenever Jeff grabbed you just a little too harshly.
And Jeff, well he’s good at reading between the lines. Could see the way your eyes plead, even when your body jerked away. You were just a little confused, a little ashamed, and you needed him to help you figure it out - which was something he seemed to be expertly good at. Cracking you open and digging in deep, pulling out all of your deepest darkest desires, and laying them right at your feet for you to actually acknowledge.
He knew you. Maybe even better than you knew yourself.
That’s why it was so glaringly obvious to him, that you seemed to have a strange little fascination with his knife.
It was subtle to you; sidelong glances at the weapon when he came home with blood still dripping off the blade. Offering to wash it for him, to sharpen it for him, your touch lingering just a touch too long whenever you passed it back to him.
He knew what that meant. He knew you.
And Jeff was a fan of streamlining things, never wanting to beat around the bush. He found that pointless. Why not just get to the good part?
So, that’s exactly what he does.
He corners you one day as you stand over the sink, your hands careful and controlled as you scrub dried blood off of his knife for what felt like the hundredth time. You never complained, though. You liked doing it. Or maybe you just liked how it felt against your skin.
‘Hey.’ He hums from behind you before coming to stand right next to you, propping his hip up against the kitchen counter. ‘Want me to use that next time I fuck you?’
Streamlined.
Your reaction had been one for the ages. Your cheeks paled in one second, and then just as quickly they were flooding with heat once again - a rosy pink blush stretching from your neck up to the tips of your ears.
‘That thing.’ He had murmured back to you, his tone almost infuriatingly casual. You caught the sight of him out of the corner of your eye, watching as he nodded his head towards the knife. ‘You’re like, obsessed with it. Am I wrong to assume it’s because it gets you wet just thinking of what I do with it?’ You didn’t answer, he pressed further. ‘You want me to use it on you, right? That’s what all this is about?’
You had looked like you were going to protest, maybe call him crazy, but then your eyes flick back down to the blade in your hands - and you hesitate. Knew it.
‘Maybe.’ Is all you had answered, but to Jeff that might as well have been a straight up yes. Because, you didn’t say no. The only times you didn’t explicitly give a concrete answer was when you were ashamed of the answer.
He could read you like a book by now.
‘Maybe. Got it.’ He had murmured back to you, before pushing off the counter. A firm slap meets one of your ass cheeks on his way past you, and you thought that for once he wouldn’t prod. That wasn’t the case, of course. ‘I’m going to bed. Bring that with you when you come meet me.’
You could’ve said no. If his hunch was wrong, and you really weren’t interested, you could’ve just left the knife in the sink when you padded along after him.
You didn’t. He had been expecting that, after all. He’s barely ever wrong when it comes to you.
It starts as normal as it ever did, when you joined Jeff in bed. Sloppy kisses that grew more and more heated as he dragged you onto his lap. Soft moans as he worked his way down your neck, biting a path of marks that would go purple by the morning. It had almost been enough to make you forget that you had actually done it - that his favourite weapon was lying on the bedside table, just waiting for Jeff’s fingers to curl around the handle.
He made it easy for you not to think about it. Left burning fingerprints wherever he touched as he stripped you of your shirt, then your bra. Flipping you over, his fingers digging into your hips as he pinned you to the bedsheets. Every shiver earned you an amused smile. Every moan had his touches growing bolder.
It wasn’t long until he had you stripped down to your panties, goosebumps raising on your thighs as he straddled your hips - his own body weight keeping you right where he liked you most; beneath him.
Jeff had always considered himself lucky that he had snagged you, though he’d never say that to your face. You were by far, one of the most gorgeous women he had ever laid eyes on, and you were all his.
Who knew it would get even better? You were just full of surprises.
He could still picture it so clearly, the face you had made he had leaned forward and reached for his knife. How your eyes had widened, like a deer in the headlights - sights locked on the razor sharp metal as it glinted in the light.
There was fear there, swimming in your irises, but there was something else too. Excitement. This was what you had been wanting.
“Now what’s so special about this old thing?” He hums, holding it up before him - eyeing it like it was some interesting specimen. “I never thought much of it. As long as it gets the job done, you know?” Then, he tips the knife towards you; his arm straight out, pointing at you with the blade less than a foot from your face. He watches your muscles tense up instinctively. “But you. You really like it. Wanted to meet it up close and personal.”
You had, but now that you were here? Nearly fully bare and suffocatingly vulnerable? It had you wondering if you were in over your head. If maybe, some fantasies should just stay fantasies.
But then again, wouldn’t that be a waste? Your boyfriend was more than happy to help you act out even your sickest deserves. It was what Jeff was best at, if anything.
“I’ve… Wondered.” You force yourself to admit, forcing your gaze away from the blade to meet his eyes instead. “I’ve… I’ve wondered what it feels like, to be a victim of yours.”
Oh? Oh. Now that was more than Jeff had expected. It was one thing to have a fascination with the weapon itself, but to try and put yourself in the shoes of the people he’s killed? Wanting to know the fear only experienced by those who could never describe it?
That was something else. That was even better.
“Oh yeah?” Jeff hums, the excitement brewing in his irises not hidden at all as your little confession sinks in. Then, the blade lowers. Slowly, drowning you in the anticipation before it finally meets your skin. Flat side down, he presses it just below your collarbone, and you have to fight not to completely jolt at the contact. It’s cold - frigid in comparison to your body heat - but it’s more than that.
It’s like some switch flipped. The moment the metal makes contact with your skin, your blood runs cold. Your body just knows it’s a threat. It knows you’re in danger - even if the man wielding it was someone you trusted. “You wanna know what it’s like to be a victim of mine? I can work with that.”
He drags the knife down slowly - over the slope of your breast, the tip of it just barely grazing over your nipple before it continues on its path - Jeff absolutely relishing in every little flicker of panic on your expression. “Could you imagine?” Jeff hums, his voice holding a barely restrained touch of giddiness that makes your cut twist. The tip of his blade drags down your abdomen slowly, not with enough pressure to break skin - but enough to just barely sting.
Your muscles jump and tense up under each of his movements, fingers curling into the sheets to try and keep yourself still. One wrong move from either of you was a risk right now.
He knew that, you knew that, and the fear you felt right now was just a drop in the bucket of everything Jeff wanted out of you. Every shaky breath made his skin tingle. Every hiss through your teeth when he added just a touch more pressure. There was no fear here for him - just pure thrill, fuelled by the panic you were trying to restrain.
He wanted to break those shackles. Wanted you really trembling for it. “It’d be so easy.” Lower, the blade drags across your skin, scratching soft welts against flesh as he circles it around your navel. “So fuckin’ easy.”
Where you’re all tension, Jeff is almost infuriatingly relaxed. Confident and cool, not even the slightest tremble in his touch as he slides his knife down lower - catching it on the hem of your panties. Using it to tug at them teasingly. “Could gut you like a damn pig before you even had time to react.”
He hums softly, appreciatively, his wide eyes tracking the sight of all the little marks he’d left upon you already. Nothing major, just pinkened scratches and little welts - whispers of his touch, ghosts of what could lay there instead if he just pressed in a little deeper. “You’d soak these sheets red. Make such a fuckin’ mess.”
His words do nothing to dissuade the growing panic sending tremors down your spine, but that was the point. The way your bottom lip wobbled, how your breathing hitched on every inhale just made it so much better. A powertrip that went straight to his head, his thoughts starting to feel fuzzy with a mixture of lust and excitement as he gazes down at you.
In the low light of his bedroom, those blue eyes of his glint with something maniacal. It steals the wind straight out of your lungs - goosebumps raising on the back of your neck and spreading down your shoulders, sending a shiver trickling down your spine.
You knew those words weren't a bluff. You knew who Jeff was, what he had done. He lived a life soaked in crimson, could butcher someone before they could even open their mouth to scream - all while wearing that same sick smile he was grinning down at you with.
It’s chilling - deranged - the slits in his cheeks just making it stretch inhumanly wider. Any sane person would be terrified, would have never even placed themselves in this situation willingly. You, though? You feel something hot and heavy settle low in your gut, your hips twitching minutely where they’re pinned to the bed by Jeff’s own.
Of course you were scared, laid beneath a man who you just had to trust wouldn’t make good on the threats he was spilling - but that fear wasn't of the bone-chilling sort. It didn’t make you feel cold. Didn’t make your mouth go dry. It just made your entire body feel a few degrees warmer as you locked eyes with him.
Maybe you were just as fucked up as he was.
“Jeff-“ You breathe out shakily, eyes flicking down to watch his movement as he drags the knife back up the expanse of your body again. Up, up, until the blade was laying flat against the valley between your breasts. Cold, threatening, feeling your frantic heart beat right beneath it. “Don’t say shit like that.”
“What?” Jeff laughs, his grin only splitting wider as the way your tone wavered. You watch how the action makes the barely healing wounds in his cheeks tear right back open at the corners, dribbling small trickles of blood onto his lips - which his tongue darts out to lick up immediately. “It make you scared?” His head dips down low as his body curls over yours, his grip on the knife dragging it up towards your collarbone as the tip of his nose presses into yours.
Like this, there's really nowhere to run from the sick amusement in his gaze - his eyes sparkling like a kid being handed a shiny new toy. Maybe that’s what you had become, the moment you suggested this idea to him. “Make you realize what you really asked for?”
His forehead comes to rest against yours, his eyes boring straight into yours as he lifts the blade higher - finally resting it where he had been aching to this entire time. Your throat - all tense and vulnerable, bobbing under the knife when you swallow thickly. “Bet you’re wondering if I’ll really do it, huh?” He whispers, hot breath fanning over your lips as his hair tickles your forehead.
Your breath catches as he adds just a touch more pressure, the skin beneath his blade stretching as it fights not to split under the cold metal. “Had this thing for awhile, you know.” He murmurs, before leaning back a little. Sitting back on his haunches, his eyes are amused as he uses the knife to tilt your chin upwards - exposing more delicate skin, glistening with a nervous sweat. “Seen lots of blood. Bet he’d like to taste yours too.”
“Jeff, seriously-“ You stammer, shoulders tense and body taut as he turns the blade. Now, not the entire length of the sharp side pressed against your neck, but just the tip. Poking just under the hollow of your throat.
Your hairline is damp with sweat, chest feeling tight as he presses in more. Letting the blade prod at the thin stretch of skin beneath it before finally, it splits under the pressure. You gasp when it happens, sucking in a sharp breath so quick it nearly hurts. You felt the sting, the immediate bloom of moisture under the tip of his blade - felt it part your flesh like it was your sole purpose.
It wasn’t a large wound at all, just the slightest little sliver. A nick, more than anything - but it was just the principal. The fact that he had drawn blood, just like he said he wanted to.
Did his other threats hold just as much merit?
“Jeez, look at you.” Jeff snickers, pulling the blade away finally, but only to reach forward with his other hand and press his thumb right against the cut he just created. The sweat from his palms meeting the fresh injury only makes the pain sink it’s claws in deeper - a bitter sting that has you fighting not to squirm beneath him. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Absolutely terrified.”
He doesn’t sound even the slightest bit remorseful, just sickly amused - glowing as he watches his most perverted desires come to life beneath him. His thumb collects the beads of blood your body gives him, his gaze darkening as he smears it against your neck - trails of crimson making the scene look far more gruesome that it was in reality. “You’re really scared I’m going to kill you.” He laughs like it’s a joke, like you were stupid to even entertain the thought. “Won’t lie, I’m thinking about it…”
He snickers to himself, watching the terror flash in your eyes as his words sink in - keeping you on the edge. He liked having you like this; suspended in a net of fear and worst case scenarios, never knowing which of his words is truth, and what’s just another way for him to get you more riled up. “But I won’t.” You relax just a little from that, and he lets out a soft huff through his nose. Just clinging onto his every word. “I’m not that stupid.”
His thumb drags upwards - calloused and rough, sticky with droplets of your blood - before it meets your bottom lip. He watches with a sharp grin as he smears the mess against your soft flesh, a precursor to him slipping it right into your mouth. Your face scrunches up as the coppery tang meets your tastebuds, and his smile just stretches wider. “You know how much of an idiot I’d have to be to get rid of you?”
Out of your mouth, his thumb leaves with a soft pop that makes your cheeks heat up. You can’t help but watch as he does it, your hazy eyes trained on the thin line of spit that connects you to him before it snaps - excess dribbling onto your chest.
Then his hand moves lower, smoothing down your abdomen with a facsimile of tenderness - but it lacks the warmth needed. It’s more of a fascination as his hand trails over the raised lines of the welts of the scratches he had left before hand, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, it made your gut squeeze tight with tension.
He traces all those raised lines marring your skin, not once looking back to your face as he does so - his gaze hard focused on your body. How it twitched and trembled, how you shifted beneath him like your flight response was trying to win out. It wouldn’t though. You wouldn’t run - this was exactly where you wanted to be.
He knew that just as well as you did. “Would be a waste of such a good pussy.” Jeff murmurs those words as his hand finally slips down to dip between your thighs. You gasp as his fingers cup your cunt through the thin barrier of your panties, a warm firm pressure that serves to make you acutely aware of the dampness accumulating beneath it.
Too busy trying to remember how to breathe up until now, you hadn’t even realized just how wet you were until Jeff brought attention to it. Pressing down firmer, he chuckles low on his chest as you buck your hips up into the palm of his hand. Trembling in fear but still fucking soaked for him, the material of your underwear clinging to your folds and absolutely sodden - slick seeping right through them to wet the pads of his fingers. “Yeah, see?” His words come out as a soft breath, dripping with amusement so potent you can practically smell it. “You love this shit.”
You know whatever futile argument you could give would hold absolutely zero merit, not a leg to stand on as you drip slick right into the palm of his hand. So, you don’t say a word, instead choosing to let out a little huff and turn your head in an attempt to hide your face in the pillow. “Gonna try and hide from it?” Jeff taunts, grinding the heel of his palm down onto your sensitive clit with a movement that has your entire body jolting beneath him. “Don’t want to admit the fact that you’re a sick little whore?”
No, not really. Your cheeks burn as you squirm beneath him, your body unable to decide if you were trying to grind your hips against his touch or pull away from the humiliation. Unfortunately, one of those things feels a lot better than the other. “Just say it.” Jeff croons from above you, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips as he watches your internal struggle. Trying to burrow your face away so that you didn’t have to look at him, and yet your hips bucked into every rough movement he made. “You’re just as bad as me, right? You like it when I scare you.”
That last little bit wasn't spoken as a question, but as a statement, because both of you already knew the answer was yes. Hearing you confirm it, would just be the cherry on top.
You had all but forgotten about the knife at this point as you pitifully grind down against his palm - your breathing catching on every inhale as pleasure sparks low in your gut - but Jeff hadn’t. The blade still rested heavy in the hand that wasn't tugging your soaked panties to the side, and he was more than happy to bring it to your attention once more.
Not paying attention, the coldness of the sharp metal resting just under your chin makes your eyes snap open. Like a startled animal, you move just a bit too fast - a bit too abruptly - and so the small cut that beads to life as you jerk against the blade isnt anything to he surprised about. Well, at least not to the one wielding the weapon. “Aw, now you just did that one to yourself.” Jeff tuts under his breath, tracking the trail the droplet of blood leaves as it trickles down the length of your neck. Multitasking, one hand gets nice and acquainted with the wetness smeared between your bare folds. The other one keeps a loose grip on his blade, using the sharp edge to tilt your head back to face him once more. “Say it.”
“Say what?” You stammer, too frazzled and overwhelmed to be able to keep track of anything right now let alone the words he said to you mere moments ago.
That’s a fact that Jeff finds hilarious.
“Damn, usually I have to fuck you to get you this dumb.” He snickers, keeping your head tilted with the blade as his fingers drag through your heat - collecting your essence up only to rub it right back into you. “Admit that you like it. You love feeling like you’re in danger.”
In tandem, his fingers press down firmer, and the blade sinks in just enough to make your brow wrinkle - overwhelming you on all fronts. Your brain feeling like static as electric signals zap around in a frenzy. You don’t even know what to focus on; the clear threat pressing into your throat in the form of skin warmed metal, or the way his fingers pulled pleasure from you like it was nothing.
Was it his actions that were terrifying? Or was it just that he could break you down so easily?
You landed on that it was a heady mixture of both, and also that he was right - you did like it. Probably a little too much.
“I do.” Your voice comes out far shakier than intended, but the words still do the trick - sparking up a near feral gleam in Jeff’s eyes the moment they grace his ears.
And his reaction is instantaneous. He laughs, sharp and gleeful, before he pulls his hand away from your heat. Just for a moment though, just long enough to let you feel the air cool the slick between your legs. Then, he’s connecting with you again; bringing his hand down against your cunt with a filthy wet slap that rings through the air.
You choke on a gasp, the fangs of pain sinking in deep amongst all of the pleasure. The sensation spreads through your body like wildfire, white hot and ruthless. You feel the sting deep in your bones; worse than the nick of his blade against your skin. It’s hard to recover from, and gain back any semblance of composure.
Good thing he doesn’t let you.
Jeff doesn’t take pity on you even in the slightest, in fact he takes advantage of your state. He eyes your gaping mouth as you gasp for breath, barely thinking over his next thought for more than a second before he acts on it.
Right as you’re about to close your mouth to swallow back the saliva you’ve been accumulating, you’re stopped by the handle of Jeff’s knife slotting right between your lips. Shoved back further, it nudges your tongue back and finds a home between your teeth - he doesn’t have to ask for you to know you’re supposed to bite down.
“Hold that.” Jeff hums, and you do just that when he pulls his hand away. The knife sits heavy in your mouth, and you can taste him on it - the sweat from his palms that had ingrained itself into the wood, salty when it meets your tastebuds. “Don’t drop it, you could hurt yourself.”
As if that was actually a concern of his. If you could, you would’ve bit back some form of sarcastic response to that, but you can even get a muffled noise out before he’s fully shutting you up.
Jeff doesn’t waste time - never has - always a fan of getting right to the good part once it’s presented to him. So, the feeling of him sinking two digits into you isn't a surprise, but it is a shock.
Already dripping for it, your body takes in the intrusion gracefully, stretching around him like it’s second nature to you as he parts your gummy walls with his middle and index fingers. Not wasting time getting you used to it, he knew you could take it regardless, and right now you looked far past warmed up for him. “What a sloppy fuckin’ cunt.” Jeff grins as he draws his wrist back, just to jerk it back forwards with a wet schlick. The sound makes your ears burn, and your teeth grit around the wood handle - sparking up an ache that travels through your jaw. “You hear this shit?”
His fingers scissor open wide, curl in deep, loosening you up even more than you already were with a feral gleam in his eyes. Every action is punctuated by a sound filthier than the last. By a needy jerk of your hips. By a new spot of drool dribbling past your parted lips and down your chin.
You look pathetic. That’s the entire point.
Your gargled whines and choked off moans slip out around the knife handle as you grit your teeth against the wood, your eyebrows wrinkled together in discomfort as you try to keep a hold on it. Your jaw aches all the way down to your neck, tension locking your muscles up as you tremble beneath him.
But despite that all? It still feels like heaven. Long and slender, Jeff’s fingers always brought you to tears in a laughable amount of time. Always reaching spots you never could yourself, and abusing them - pressing in deep and relentless until your legs kicked around his hips from the overstimulation of it all.
You could feel that building, coiling tight in your lower stomach as he pulled more and more pleasure from your body. The sleeve of his hoodie (which he probably should’ve rolled up) is damn near soaked right now, sodden with your essence as he snaps his wrist over and over again - stoking that burning flame inside you hotter and hotter every time he plunged his fingers in.
You can feel it, can practically taste it - that sweet feeling of ecstasy creeping up on you. So close that you aren’t even paying attention to the aches and pains anymore, just the prospect of finally tipping over the edge.
Then right as your body starts to tense up in anticipation, it all disappears.
Jeff tugs his fingers from you with an absolutely obscene sound following, leaving you trembling and wide eyed as you gaze up at him for answers.
And he just laughs. “Not yet.” He chuckles lowly. “Want you cumming on my cock instead, you know that.” He moves, leaning up onto his calves to reach forwards and finally pluck his weapon back out of your mouth. You immediately go let out a sigh of release, but it’s quickly muffled when his slick drenched fingers are replacing it. You sputter, shuddering beneath him as the taste of yourself meets your tongue - his fingers sinking in deep to leave you no place to run from it. “Clean up your goddamn mess.”
You do, teary eyed and still trembling from having the rug pulled out from under you just a few moments prior. Your tongue swirls around the digits, lapping up whatever remnants of yourself were left, and swallowing it all back like you were looking for his approval.
Maybe you were, in a way. You succeed.
Jeff lets out a pleased hum as he watches you, the smile never leaving his face as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. A thin line of saliva connects you to him for a second, glistening in the low light before it breaks. “Good.” He mutters. “Now you deserve this.”
Jeff pats your cheek twice - fingers still wet and leaving a moist spot on your face - before leaning back again. He sets knife down on the sheets next to you, but you have a funny feeling it’s not going to lay in wait for long. Then, he moves. One hand grasps your hip roughly, tugging you right to him. The other one makes quick work of the button of his jeans, popping it free and tugging his fly down in an action so quick it nearly gives you whiplash.
Clearly, his small bout of patience was over. This was what he had been working up to this entire time, after all. “Look at your face.” He chuckles softly as he shucks his jeans down his hips, wriggling his legs out of them and kicking them to the side in a move so unceremonious you probably would’ve giggled if you weren’t as desperate as he is. “I know. You want it bad, huh?”
If the answer wasn't yes before, it definitely was when he tugged his boxers down - letting his achingly hard cock finally spring free to slap against his stomach. “Say it.”
And you knew the rules of this game by now.
“Jeff, please-“ You manage out, your voice soft and shaky as you watch him. How one of his hands drifts down to wrap around himself, pumping his length lazily as he nestled between your thighs. Languid, teasing just as much for him as it was you as he smears precum down the shaft. “I need it. I’m gonna- gonna lose my mind-“
That seemed to be exactly what he was wanting to hear.
“Yeah you fuckin’ are.” He grins down at you, before using his grip on your hip to tug you in closer. Letting you feel his cock throb against you as he grinds his hips down. Getting so nice and slippery, that it’s a goddamn dream when he lines up with your entrance, then promptly slides right in. One smooth thrust, stretching you out around him and filling you out in a motion so quick it steals all the air right out of your lungs.
You clench down around him hard as he bottoms out, pulling a soft hiss from him as he grinds his hips into your in attempts to get deeper. “This is why I keep you around.” He grits out. “Tight little cunt. Every damn time. No matter how many times I fuck you.”
You’re not quite sure if he was looking for a response to that, but you can’t give one regardless when he pulls back agonizingly slow just to snap back into you quickly.
In your time with Jeff, you’ve gotten used to quite a few things about him. His mannerisms, his constant abraisiveness, and the fact that he couldn’t be soft and tender in bed if he tried. It was just something he didn’t seem to have the capability for - always rutting into you like he was trying to prove something. To you or to himself, you never knew, but it was never something you found yourself complaining about. In fact, it was one of the things you liked best about him.
And right now? He was delivering on that in full.
His fingers dig into your hips, harsh and unforgiving - definitely blooming bruises under his touch as he tugs you back to meet every single one of his thrusts. The pace has you reeling; sharp, snappy jerks of his hips that make your toes curl every time he sinks in tight to the hilt. Already primed and ready for him, you didn’t have to do a damn thing but lay back and take it.
So overwhelmed from the events of the night thus far, it’s hard for your brain to even properly catch up, stuck in a state of near delirium. That was alright though, your brain didn’t need to catch up, your body was well up to speed.
Your brows wrinkle together as his cock drags against your walls, rock hard and throbbing as he carved a path through your heat. Clawing you closer even when he had nothing left to give, you’d swear he was trying to merge the two of you into one. “Yeah- That’s it-“ Jeff pants out, his eyes hazy with lust as they drop down to where the two of you are connected. Watching as your pussy swallows him up over and over, leaving him glistening with slick on each pull out - a milky white ring forming around the base of his cock.
He shudders with delight. “Greedy little cunt.” He rasps out. “You love this shit, huh? Look at you - squirming like you can’t get enough.”
He punctuates those words with an even sharper thrust, the sound of skin on skin echoing against the walls as his hips collide with yours over and over again. “Hah- That’s right- Take it. Take all of it like the slut you are.”
You don’t make a very good defence case with the way you writhe beneath him, shifting against the sheets with a jaw dropped slack. It’s like he’s punching the moans out of your lungs - each sound broken off and choppy as you struggle to get a proper breath in. Your entire body is buzzing, consumed in the tingling heat that spreads from your core upwards. You’ve even started to feel a little dizzy, but right now? You welcome the feeling. Just another drop in the bucket of jumbled sensations.
With your whole face scrunched up, your eyes stay screwed shut - tears clinging to your lashes and pooling in the corners of your eyes. You’re about as far gone as you possibly could be, your brain close to leaking straight out of your ears and onto the pillow beneath you.
That’s why you don’t really register it when one of his hands leaves your body. That’s why you don’t notice him picking up his knife again. Well, not until it’s pressing flat under your chin again.
Your breathing stutters, eyes blowing wide open frantically - and yet Jeff doesn’t slow down even a little bit. Keeping that brutal pace. Keeping you brainless even as the sharp side presses into your throat. “Shit-“ Jeff hisses out through gritted teeth. “Just got even tighter for me-“
The knife stays hard pressed right under your jaw, shifting with each jerk of Jeff’s hips. You can feel the sting. You know it’s breaking skin.
You don’t care.
“J-Jeff-“ You manage to hiccup out hoarsely, eyes glistening with tears as watery moans slip from your lips. He was expecting you to tap out, to finally ask for mercy, and yet- “Harder-“
He could’ve married you right then and there.
“Yeah?” Jeff barks out a near manic laugh, pressing in closer as he hikes your legs over his hips. “You want it harder?” You feel the wetness as drops of blood well up then roll down your neck to pool in the dip of your collarbones. You nod anyway. He drives his cock in deeper. “I could fuckin’ slit your throat right now.” He pants, the look in his eyes near crazed as he gazes down at you. “If I’m not careful this’ll end with me fucking your corpse.”
Your body tenses up at that, squeezing tight around him as he grinds against your g-spot over and over. He laughs again. “You’re a fuckin’ freak.” Harder, his hips snap into yours, deeper the knife sinks through fragile flesh. You welcome both sensations even as your ears start to ring. “Goddamn psycho bitch-“
Even now, those words sting - but that blends right in with the onslaught of emotions you were being put through. Besides, you couldn’t exactly disagree right now.
Good thing that seemed to be a plus for Jeff, when it came to you, because the next words coming out are; “Fuckin’ love you- God, you’re insane.”
And out of all things, that’s what does you in.
Jeff feels it before he sees it - how you tighten up around him to a near suffocating degree, making his hips jerk forwards instinctively like you’re sucking him in. Your body going taut with tension, your thighs trembling where they’re forced open around his hips, and then it all breaks.
You cry when you cum. Full blown cry, tears springing to your eyes as a sob rips from your lungs. You downright convulse, arching up against him, helplessly bucking your hips into his as the waves of ecstasy threaten to drown you. Jeff has half the mind to pull the knife away from you and toss it to the ground with a clatter before things actually got ugly. “Fuck-“ He rasps out, the last vestiges of his restraint crumbling into smoke as your cunt tries in earnest to milk him dry - and he’s got no reason not to let it.
He slams his cock into your twitching cunt, pushing you right through your release and into the depths of overstimulation as he chases his own. Panting, gasping for air above you, sweat dripping off of his hair and landing on your chest as he fucks into you like an animal in heat.
Lower, his head dips down, lips parting to let his tongue dart out - and he laps at the wound on your neck. Licking up every last drop of the blood he made you spill, moaning into your skin as you whine and squirm beneath him.
It’s fucked. It’s perfect. It scratches that itch he had left untouched for a long time around you.
It’s more than enough to drive him right to the cliff’s edge.
You feel his cock throb inside you, a silent warning before his entire body locks up with pleasure and he’s spilling into you with a raspy groan muffled into your neck. With his face smeared with your blood, he presses in closer as his hips jerk against yours - hands clawing at your hips as he fills you with pulse after pulse of sticky warmth.
It makes your cheeks heat up as his sporadic movements dull down to lazy rolls of his hips, a satisfied hum rumbling from his chest and into yours while he fucks his cum into you. As deep as he can get it.
It feels like ages until either of you speak again, but of course it’s Jeff first. You’re still trying to remember how to form a word properly. “Fucking hell.” He chuckles breathlessly against your skin before finally lifting himself up onto his elbows.
His hair is matted with sweat as he observes you - sticking up at odd angles and frizzing from the heat generated between the two of you. You look way worse though, you don’t even have to see yourself to know that for a fact. “Knew you had a dark side.” He chuckles lowly, before lifting a hand to trace a line just below the shallow gash still seeping blood against your neck. “But this? I won’t lie, I got real damn close to doing something I would’ve regretted.”
Maybe it shouldn’t have, but those words make your chest feel warm. A twisted form of affection making your stomach flutter as your pussy still weakly twitches around his softening cock.
“Aw, you would’ve regretted killing me?” You rasp out, managing a playful smile even through your exhaustion. It earns you a sharp look as Jeff’s eyes narrow.
“Shut the fuck up. Don’t make me second guess it.” He mutters, before dragging his finger up to press right against your cut. Partially to shut you up, partially to watch more blood gush out beneath his touch. Your face scrunches up, a pained whine tugging itself from your lungs. All that earns you is an amused snort. “You’ll be fine.” He mutters after a moment of just observing you, his eyes tracing across your face with a gaze so heavy it feels like a touch in itself. It’s impossible not to wonder what he’s thinking. You know he’ll probably never tell you, and that’s alright. “Probably gonna scar though.”
That’s not something you’re mad about either, though maybe it should be.
“That’s fine.” You answer back softly, and Jeff stares down at you for a few more seconds before snorting out a laugh and shaking his head.
“You would say that.” He chuckles, his tone dipping into something a little too close to raw affection. “Fuckin’ freak.”
And yeah, maybe you deserved that one.
-
hi jeff girlies <3 FINALLY tried my hand writing for your man!! hope you enjoyed it!!
Hi everyone, I want to start by thanking everyone who has supported my work so far and waited patiently for this post.
Alongside that I want to thank @gh0ulkitty for the amazing editing they provided throughout this. Without all the community support and help I don't think I would have completed this project to the standard it is.
Thanks to all my mutuals and discord friends for the feedback and assistance as well
enjoy!
Jeff the Killer
By EkatLani
♱
Pig shit. Pig shit, blood and wet earth. That is how Liu would describe his childhood home; a plethora of vile stenches which permeated the air, briefly interrupted by conversation, boredom and family dinners. His brother, too, who sat perched on the wooden fence nasally inhaling the exhumed smoke he periodically released from his dry lips.
It helped with the smell, he insisted, although Liu had an inkling that was just an excuse.
The eldest stood, ankle deep in a slurry of swine excrement, feed and damp dirt, attempting to shovel the bulk of it into a wheelbarrow. Rain had swept through the farm last night, emulsifying the flurry of foulness into the most wretched of chores. The air was still bitterly chill, both brothers wearing heavy layers under their raincoats to stave off the assault of backsplash from the shovel. The heavy thunk of the mud splattering every which way as it landed against the aged metal.
Jeff seemed unbothered, laughing as Liu had groaned awake when the smell carried through the crack of their bedroom window and into the still dark room.
“Cheer up, soldier, no school today!” He had responded wildly while combing his black dyed hair into place, his first cigarette of the day hanging lazily between his bared teeth.
Jeff, for as long as Liu could remember, woke up at the crack of dawn, far before the rest of the house. To do what? Liu didn’t know really, probably to jerk off uninterrupted. He was always showered, dressed, awake before even the laborer that was their father, who frequently pestered Liu for his sleeping habits. He compared him to their mother with a nasty snarl on his lips every time.
Liu had rubbed the sleep from his eyes and, in one wide sweep, he tossed the blanket from his body, slithering out of bed.
His brows furrowed as he sighed deeply, “Fuck this.” Before long, there they were, taking turns cleaning up nature's gift while the aforementioned swine serenaded them with squeals. The brevity of missing school was a small mercy, at least...
Jeff’s boots squelched into the ground as he landed next to his brother. Puberty had been kind to him in some ways. Despite being a year younger, at seventeen, he stood a solid head above the older. Lithe with corded muscles whose strength betrayed his appearance, he was a lot more durable than he looked.
“Pass it over sissy, before I burn my lips.” He spat the butt into the ground, reaching his pale, spindly hand outward. Liu released his grip on the shovel and took his station leaning against the fence, which shifted from bearing his weight.
Jeff may be taller, but Liu was more compact, bearing the physicality of labor from a young age. With calloused hands now tucked into the pockets of his coat, plastic crinkling sharply, he exhaled, smirking at Jeff’s remark.
He took it in stride instead of catching the bait. If he did, it wouldn’t be long until the two were dragged back inside with busted lips and scabby knees. Undoubtedly with hungry stomachs, sent to bed dinnerless.
The younger sibling hunched over the shovel, using his heel to press the sharp end further into the dirt.
“Do you think we’ll finish this today?” Liu inquired, voice hoarse.
“Oh, definitely not.” Jeff responded jovially.
“Ugh, I fucking hate this.”
“Yeah,” Jeff heaved, leaning against the shovel, “Want to do something else?”
“And get our ass beat? Smart move.”
“You’re no fun sometimes.” He decided, dropping the shovel into the slurry, trudging off unceremoniously into the nearby shrubbery. Liu shook his head and continued the work, not bothering to follow him. He’ll reappear before dinner, regardless of what he wasted his time doing.
The farm was an empty open space graced with a selection of pigs, ripe for slaughter, surrounded by thick foliage. The smell he could handle, the shit he could handle, but the blood? Pig squeals sounded awfully human at the best of times, and the panicked screams before death were deafening—a job Liu just couldn’t do. A job Jeff was kept from, if only for his own sake. But no, no slaughter for him.
Liu’s senseless meandering in his own mind was interrupted by the bellowing voice of Mr. Woods, “Alright! Boys, dinner. Inside!” He clapped all the while, beckoning them. Liu planted the shovel and dragged himself inside.
Jeff didn’t come home until after dinner, the likes of which was heavy and uncomfortable. Liu could tell his father was waiting, just waiting for a reason to blow up.
Liu tried to be inconspicuous even as he swatted flies away from his face. As if a sudden move would reveal his inability to complete his chores.
His mother, who was still in the kitchen as the two men ate, insisted on cooking with the window open. Despite the weather, or smell or insects, the narrow window would stay open, and she would gaze out. Placid to the world as she cooked, humming unidentifiable tunes.
The food was tasteless in the dense air of tension, holding Liu’s head as he fixated on the plate. Mr. Woods didn’t speak, open mouth chewing throughout the evening, slurping at his lukewarm beer. The sun had long set when Jeff had stumbled through the door, and Liu braced for the pot to bubble over. Spill its turbulent fluids throughout the home.
His mother stood in place, peaking at the scene from beneath her curtain of dark hair. Still, she made no move to interject, remaining a silent observer in her own home. Mr. Woods said nothing, eerily still, and for a moment, Jeff simply stood in the doorway.
The brothers shared a concerned and confused glance, weary. Cautiously, Jeff broke the pause by walking further, his scruffy Great Pyrenees a few steps behind. The dog strolled lazily, tongue lolling out and white fur muddled from the weather.
Jeff flinched as a bottle suddenly shattered against the door behind him, exploding beer and glass shards everywhere.
“Get that filthy fucking dog out of my house!” Their father roared, sending the dog scrambling away in a panic, back to the fields. Jeff stood, frozen, and Liu hurried to interject. But when his father looked him dead in the eyes, Liu looked back down at his half full plate.
“Good job today boy.” Mr. Woods drawled, the words feeling harsh and unearned. Liu briefly glanced up and nodded.
Mr. Woods then turned back to the boy who still stood by the door and nodded toward the stairs.
Both brothers knew what that meant. Jeff all but ran up the stairs, leaving the rest of the family in a familiar silence. Liu struggled to eat the rest of his plate, casting furtive glances at his father all the while.
Mr. Woods sat back and snapped his fingers for another drink, the wall still damp from his wrath.
Liu excused himself and hurried to bed, laying wide eyed until Jeff returned to their room later that night. He was limping, calves branded with red welts.
“I don’t know why you do it to yourself, Jeff.” He whispered into the darkness of the room.
“I don’t know why you do fucking nothing, Liu.” He rasped, voice dry and sharp, accusatory. And Liu sat with his guilt for the rest of the night.
If Jeff had to describe school, it would be; boring, boring and boring. As were most things. Incredibly boring and uninspired.
He preferred staying on the farm, with the pigs and his brother and his dog and all the things he could do with no one giving a shit. All things that were his and his alone.
He remembered the day he realized he hated school– he must’ve been six or seven? He had approached a girl on the playground who was swinging from monkey bar to monkey bar, small and pudgy with flushed cheeks and twin braids.
Other kids compared her to a pig, making snorting noises at her until she teared up and ran away. Jeff liked her, Jeff liked pigs.
So, when he went up to her, he attempted to jump for the bar next to the one she was grappling, hoping she would like him too. Give him her attention, and he could see her do something other than cry and scream, something no one else got to see her do.
But the little girl kicked at him.
Jeff planted into the sand, brows furrowing in anger as she yipped at him to leave her alone. In retrospect, she probably assumed the boy meant to chase her off the bars and ostracize her like the others, and maybe now Jeff would have responded differently.
However, his frustration at the rejection was more emotional than his young body could contain. How could she, fat and short, push away the opportunity to have a friend like him? Who was much taller than the other boys and could easily make them leave her alone. Was she stupid?
He figured she must be and grabbed her by the ankle, yanking her down into the sand with him. Anger soothed as she hit the earth below.
She scraped both her knees, wobbly and unable to break the fall, her forehead following. Scratched up and teary eyed, she ran to the teachers, and for the rest of the year Jeff had to be sat in a different class from her. Which greatly frustrated him.
So yeah, he hated school, and it was very boring.
Except for Mrs. Goelet, who he found vehemently entertaining. From her uncertain stuttering when the class wouldn’t listen, to her tired crow’s feet– he found her so entertaining.
When the class would boisterously yell at her and ignore every reprimand, he would sit and listen intently. Watching her and her brown hair and long colourful skirts she would stride around in. He would stay after class and pester her with a million questions, knowing she was too reserved to call out his deceitful behavior.
Yeah, that was his too, he decided.
He shuffled through the halls, easily spotting his brother over the sparse sprinkling of peers. He walked right past him, red welts littering his calves with a stinging reminder of the previous night.
Fucking brutal. His dad was a total sadist, holding both his brother and mom on a tight leash. If Jeff had it his way, he’d turn that wannabe into pig feed before the sun set.
Even if he ignored Liu, he was glad it was him over his older brother. Liu would’ve sobbed all night, from either the pain or the humiliation.
Instead, Jeff walked right out to the area behind the gymnasium, where the ass crack end of the school faced more thick shrubbery. Around this turn of weather, you could find all sorts of birds plastered along the bush floor, pecking at the worms that writhed to the surface.
Jeff sat on a tree stump, beckoning a plump pigeon closer with a writhing insect held between his fingers. Pigeons were particularly trusting birds, Jeff had found, easily convinced by food. Sort of like pigs.
The pigeon twitched its little face side to side, hopping closer. When it got close enough, Jeff lashed his arm out, spooking the bird. It frantically tried to flail from his clenched grip.
During the struggle, Jeff heard a small snap, watching as it flopped to the ground. Flapping only with one wing now, broken. Damn. He sighed and stood, leaving the animal to scurry off into the thicket. It would adapt, pigeons were like that, but he didn’t want a pigeon that couldn’t fly. For his birthday he had asked for a birdhouse, but his father had laughed and called him a sissy for liking birds.
Well, Jeff thought his dad was sissy for picking on his wife. So, he conceded to getting his own birds one way or another. However, they die easily from “stress”, Liu said.
“You can’t keep it in a shoe box for fucks sake.” He had tossed the limp bird out their bedroom window, abandoned to the elements of nature below. He had discovered it after it began to smell foul, “You’re seriously too old for this shit.”
Meandering about the woods, he kicked at the ground in boredom until a voice had interrupted his aimlessness.
Multiple voices, approaching from the school. Jeff’s face twisted in recognition, jaw ticking. Randy, the only one whose name he bothered remembering because– compared to the others– he was the only one of any note.
Inexplicably cruel in a way Jeff couldn’t emulate, kind of cool when he wasn’t slobbering over his words to spit them out in time. Randy, along with a group of others, emerged from between some trees, pausing when his eyes landed on Jeff. He smiled like he was fighting a laugh and tapped the pudgier boy on his left.
“Does anyone else smell shit?” He approached, a crooked grin on his face.
“Randell.” Jeff nodded back at him, not retreating as the foxy haired boy closed the distance between them.
One of the girls was looking at Jeff, and he quickly recognized her as Mrs. Goelet’s daughter. They had the same nose and slender neck. He bit back a smile at her, but she simply looked at Randy apprehensively.
Randy was smiling at him with his wolf-like and crooked teeth, “Why didn’t you invite me out here? Aren't we best friends?” The group behind him chuckled, passing glances at each other. Jeff didn’t get the joke.
“I’ll let you know next time. Since you want to see me so bad.” He meant it as a dig, implications slathered in insult. But really, he meant it. Maybe one day he could show Randy his pig farm, then he’d know how bad pig shit really smelt.
Randy grabbed him by the arm, forced joviality forgotten, tight lipped as he seethed out, “Who the fuck would want to go anywhere near you?” The group behind were looking on, hungrily, like a pack of hyenas waiting for their turn.
Jeff was on the ground in seconds, legs buckling, Randy towering above him with clenched fists. Someone yelled something, a plea or sneer. He couldn't discern which among the cacophony of jeers and insults hurled at him.
Randy leaned over Jeff's silhouette, spitting as he spoke, “Piss off, faggot!”
Jeff stood back up, dusting himself off, shoulder checking Randy as he walked away. He passed that girl again, who kept her head down in shame as he stared at her. Reminded him of Liu.
Jeff didn’t know who did it at first, but someone had kicked the back of his knee. Clad in dark baggy jeans they couldn’t see the still aggravated lesions beneath the fabric. Fiery pain undulated from the contact, sharp and unrelenting.
On impulse, he struck, whipping around elbow first and a crunch echoed among the foliage. Writhing in the dirt, clutching his must-be broken nose as pained whimpers left him, was the large kid Randy had taped earlier.
The kid—Troy, he discovered from Randy’s exclamation– was staring at him with a mixture of fear and anger.
Jeff stared back, his elbow smeared with blood, fingers buzzing. His throat constricted with cold, insistent excitement. He was angry, sure, but this was something. Moments like this made the dull repetitive drawl of school worthwhile.
A dull pain radiating up his torso snapped him out of his glare. A rock clattered to the ground beside him. He watched it skid to a halt in the dirt. Someone had thrown a rock at him.
Whipping his head back up, his eyes landed on a raw-boned skinhead kid with gritted teeth.
He was all knees and elbows, holding another rock in hand, standing just behind Randy. The group of kids mirrored his savage expression, an array of disgust and hatred. Okay, Jeff soothed internally, you can’t take all of them.
Searching for an escape, he landed on utilizing his coltish limbs to get the fuck out of there, back burning with the heat of Randy's glare. However, his concern likely outweighed his anger, Randy didn’t give chase. Still, he found ample opportunity to shout after Jeff.
“You’re done Woods! You’re fucking done!”
Jeff sprinted, overwhelmed with adrenaline, his chest tight with exertion. He ran all the way home, not stopping once.
It was a trek. Normally, Liu drove them to and from school in his pickup. For as long as Jeff could remember anyway, Liu would often spiel on and on about how bad the commute was before he got his hands on the beat-up thing. Cold sweat trickling down his spine, he opted to avoid the leering wooden house with peeled paint and deck caved in on one side.
Instead, he ran straight to the pig pen, ducking his head into the squealing solitude.
Maymay had squirming piglets, which paused their suckling to stare at him restlessly, clutching closer to their indifferent mother. She was used to him. The consequence of being barred from slaughter meant the pigs didn’t fear him much.
Their squealing died down, a whine and huff sounding from the back of the pen. His dog, roused from the commotion, stood lazily and inched closer to him with an eager tail. Jeff clutched the hound tightly, allowing him to fall asleep clutched in his grasp.
He was shaking, he realized, his flesh humming from adrenaline. Unlike birds, people don't stop after you crack them. The birds just hate you, and he doubted they’d come back if he left out feed. Chest twisting, he cried out in frustration, causing the dog to stir awake and lick his hand in appeasement.
All this energy, all this want and need, and he had nowhere to put it.
Liu didn't even fight him anymore, no matter what he said, as their father had forced him into fearful resignation long ago. Randy was something, though, something on the precipice he couldn't reach because they all huddled together like scared animals. It’s not like Randy couldn’t put up a good fight alone, so what’s with all the people?
“Always, always.” He muttered into dusty fur, “It’s not fair, never goes my way!” His voice peaked, the welts on his legs painfully prevalent.
The piglets squealed at his tantrum, only serving to further his frustration, jealousy curdling in his stomach. Piglets could do as they please, drink themselves stupid and scream without repercussions. Until their slaughter, which Jeff was denied the privilege of. One piglet, he took liberty with one piglet—he just wanted to know if they all sounded the same. Now, the slaughter stained him, and fuck his hands were still buzzing.
He must have rocked back and forth in that pen for hours until a stocky figure ducked in alongside him. He sighed in defeat when he saw his brother. Liu hooked his fingers harshly through Jeffs shirt collar, dragging him out, murmuring that he stank. The sun was setting now, casting long, intimidating shadows from the tree line.
His brother all but tossed him fully clothed into the shower, turning on the water that was always cold by the evening.
Mud, sweat and feed melted from the persistent spray of water. Jeff shook fiercely as the stream soaked his hair over his face, staring down at the swirling stream of muck sinking into the drain. Jeff felt pulled toward that dark cavern, but his brother lifted him out. He always did, when Jeff strayed too far from the beaten path, it was Liu who corralled him back to normality.
“Mom got a call from school.” Liu’s face was stern, “Was told to get you, been looking for hours.”
Jeff hugged himself under the water, “I like the pen.” He shrugged.
“Gross.” Liu chided, “Thought you grew out of that.”
“I wanted my dog.”
Liu rolled his eyes at that, exasperated, “Broken nose, Jeff. Family wants us to pay.”
Jeff just snorted, making Liu raise his brows. He rolled his tongue under his bottom lip, visibly angry, and he threw his hands up, “Alright, fine. Y’know what? Keep being a freak with your fucking pigs and fucking dog.”
He stomped away, and Jeff’s hand twitched after him. He should apologize, should take some responsibility, really, but he didn’t want to. He said nothing, and with his hand braced on the bathroom door, Liu turned one more time.
“Jeff, I graduate at the end of the year. I want my own life. I won’t always be here to clean up your messes.” he slammed the door, leaving Jeff to clean himself up before supper.
They didn’t speak to each other for a week, but to Jeff, it might as well have been months. In a way, Liu was right, Jeff’s perpetual boredom continuously led to him getting tangled in trouble. But it wasn’t his fault everything was so under stimulating, so predictable.
Sitting in class, he tuned back in, catching himself staring at the neck of the girl in front of him. Mrs. Goelet’s daughter; he should really learn her name.
She was taller than most girls, and Jeff noticed she slouched often. Maybe she was insecure over her height? Jeff never understood women’s insecurities.
When his mother would pester him about her appearance, he was baffled.
‘Do I look fat? Am I beautiful?’ she’d query with distant eyes as she would dress up for his father, desperate for Jeff's approval. He’d sit on the edge of his bed while she tried on outfit after outfit, awaiting his commentary with bated breath. The one time she’d asked Liu, he’d brushed her off, not interested in the plight of womanhood.
Jeff, however, was honest...always.
Even when the corners of her eyes crinkled in hurt at his remarks, Mrs. Woods always came to him.
“I only ever wanted a girl...” she confessed in a drunken stupor one night, her clothes strewn about the bedroom floor and her makeup smeared haphazardly around her face. Immediately making a then seven-year-old Jeff promise to never tell a soul.
She had wrapped her hair for the night taking her Valium with shaking hands, putting her flask back under the bedside table. Jeff never told; he liked knowing something about her no one else did.
He concluded the girl's slouch was a silly insecurity, she would look much better standing tall. The line from the part of her hair to the nape of her neck was disrupted by the poor posture.
At this point, it was bothering him. He flicked the loose lead of his pencil at her, causing her to whip around with a scorned look on her face that quickly softened to embarrassment upon seeing her assailant's identity. She smiled sheepishly and turned back around; Jeff threw the remainder of his pencil at her.
“What?” She hissed in frustration.
“Go with me?”
Jane was pleasant like her mother, if not a carbon copy of her save her choice of dress. Often dressed in dark regalia with lace and smokey eyeliner. She followed him like a dog to the back of the gymnasium, fiddling with her thumbs, anticipating.
She sat on the stump he was on last time he’d come out here, tucking her skirt beneath herself when Jeff pointed to it. She seemed to be waiting for something, as if she expected something from Jeff.
In the awkward tension, she broke the silence, “I’m sorry about last time.”
She spoke quickly, and when receiving no response beyond a quick look, she stuttered out, “I—its...I don’t like Randy.” She explained, shifting uncomfortably.
Still, Jeff didn’t dignify her with a response, causing her words to spill out uncontrollably. “I don’t know why I hung out with him. I don’t anymore—I don't know, I thought he was cool. Clearly, he’s not, I mean he’s a bully and I know that now and,” She took a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”
Before she could continue, Jeff decided it was his turn to speak.
“Jane,” He stated plainly, “I know you’re a good girl.”
That made her skin itch; however, she tried to ignore the feeling. Jeff couldn’t mean any harm; she knew he was a bit...different. His accent a mix of the local western drawl and Eastern European inflections, he often spoke in odd and, at times, disconcerting ways.
Jane would chalk it up to cultural differences, as her mom always told her to be nice to everyone. Even if they seemed different.
Because of her kind nature, she had been sat next to Randy for most of the year. The teachers assumed she would be a good influence on him. He was cruel, but popular somehow. So when she was invited to hang out with them at lunch, she accepted.
Her morals reached a crossroads when the boy she was meant to help ended up attacking someone–Jeff– unprompted. Jane decided she preferred Jeff’s company.
Jeff, who was now rustling around in the bushes, back turned to the girl. She awkwardly tucked her hair behind her ear, “Hey, Jeff...” She looked around the trees, the environment blending into an endless ocean of vegetation. The world felt hazy as alarm bells began ringing in her ears, “What are we doing out here?”
He looked at her this time, halting his motion to smile toothily, “I want to show you something.”
He whispered like it was a secret. Glee dancing in his tone as he returned to the rustling.
He grabbed something from the bushes, causing Jane to lean forward in curiosity, brows knitted together. He covered most of it with his jumper, but the foul smell was pungent. Jane wrinkled her nose.
She snarled a bit as Jeff approached closer, but her curiosity beckoned her to stay. As Jeff unfurled his arms, Janes face twisted into vile detest at what lay in his hands. Nausea roiled through her body in sickening waves at the sight.
Bloated, leaking puss with cloudy eyes, was a deceased piglet Jeff cradled delicately. Its skin looked rubbery, dull, and for a moment, Jane tried to convince herself it was some disturbed art piece. But the smell was undeniable.
The stench of death hung heavily in the air, smothering her. She gagged and then doubled over, dry heaving and sputtering out bile.
Jeff stood motionless, watching her, unflinching. Jane looked up through her lashes at him, panting, but he just looked back at her with no change in his expression. Still holding the deceased pig.
“God,” she sputtered, acid in her throat, “put it away! What’s wrong with you!”
Jeff’s lips twitched with a laugh, “I did, I just took it back out.”
“You’re fucking sick, stay away from me.” She rasped, eyes burning from the acidity in her throat, stumbling away from him in a hurry.
His smile faltered for a moment, “They sound different.”
“What?”
“When they die, they all sound different.”
Jane did not like Jeff anymore, and she went home early. Too afraid to tell anyone what she saw, telling her mom it was just a stomach bug.
Jeff hopped into his brother's car with a fat smile on his face. Liu scoffed, refusing to break his vow of silence, and the two drove home wordlessly. The towns' structures became few and far between the closer they got to home.
Liu rolled down the windows at some point, side eyeing his brother occasionally, nose crinkled in disgust. Jeff had his gaze transfixed on the open road, shifting in his seat restlessly. If the two were talking, Liu would surely question the sudden excitement oozing from Jeff.
Jeff's enthusiasm remained through the duration of dinner, uncaring for the flies that landed periodically on the meat and beet soup. Popping the insects between his teeth as he chewed.
It earned him a swift swipe to the back of the head as Mr. Woods walked past before seating himself at the head of the table. Their mother emerged from the kitchen with glassy eyes, placing a soft hand on his head. Soothing the dull ache, Jeff felt those nimble and familiar fingers in his wiry locks.
Jeff gazed up at his mother, leaning into the touch. Liu, unable to take the lunacy of it all, stood suddenly from the table, his chair grinding against the wooden floor.
“Boy!” His father corrected, “You sit until you’re excused!” Food and spittle fell from his mouth and onto the table, his fist striking the varnished wooden table with a bang.
“I’m not hungry!” He retorted, already disappearing up the stairs.
Mr. Woods looked to his son who was now boldly staring him down as his mother's hand slowly retreated from his dark hair.
His eyes were wild, dancing across the room, practically vibrating as they did so. Almost taunting.
For a moment, Mr. Woods just stared back, eyes narrowed. Then, in a swift motion, he stood, grappling for him with a manic, crazed snarl on his mouth. His chair clattered behind him, crashing into the floor with a bang.
His mother retreated against the wall with labored breath, pupils dilated in anticipation. Watching the scene unfold with blown pupils.
Jeff held his fork in a challenging grip, mimicking his father's threatening stance. He, too, was now shorter than Jeff, something that satisfied a dark part of the boy. To look down on his father in this matter, kindled that burning desire inside him.
Mr. Woods shoved the table, plates shuddering and food scattering, but Jeff held his ground. Mr. Woods face was a dark shade of rage, the tips of his ears red, a feverish glint perspirating on his forehead.
“You little fucker! You better run, you better get the fuck out of here!” He hollered, sloppily grabbing his plate and waving it wildly above his head.
Jeff grabbed his own and, without hesitation, hurled it at the man, consequences be damned. It bounced off his abdomen and shattered onto the floor, covering the space between them in sharp, dirty shards.
His mother found her voice, shrieking and pawing at the air around Jeff.
“Oh no honey,” she wailed, “Oh no darling, stop it! Stop it!”
Her glossy eyes shined, frantic but distant, examining Jeff but somehow unseeing. She held onto nothing, grasping at the air with shaking hands.
Before his father could catch his breath, Jeff twisted on his heels and sprinted up the creaking steps.
He hadn’t even touched the bedroom handle when Liu’s open palm shot out and dragged him into the room. Both brothers held the door shut as it bowed from the unrelenting fury of their father’s fist.
Soon enough, the old man grew tired and yielded, sputtering after their mother who was still wailing from the halls.
The brothers breathed together for a while, unsure if the tirade had finished just yet. Only when the distant moans and yells abjured, did they calm. Looking at one another for a moment, it was Liu who slowly rested his forehead against his brothers and closed his eyes. Drinking in the silence, the stillness.
Jeff spoke, impossibly quiet, “Are you still mad at me?” He sounded child-like. Liu chuckled breathily and then shook his head, separating the two.
He held Jeff's shoulders in a solid grip and looked at him, “No, I stopped being mad a while ago.”
Jeff smiled and nodded, falling into Liu's embrace. His broad hands caressed the back of Jeff’s hair. More grounding than the feathery touch of his mother, whose affection felt distant and held expectations.
Jeff’s smile fell, “I killed a piglet again.” he confessed.
“I know. It’s okay.”
Life resumed to normalcy, if only their own obtuse version of it. Mr. Woods had stormed out of the house as early as he woke, fire in his wake, their mother might as well have been sedated by it. She stood over the sink, cleaning one of the pots for hours, the skin of her hands cracked and sappy. That became the new routine, a welcome change for the duo, who’d much rather deal with their mother’s uncanny dissonance than their father’s unbridled rage.
School was also surprisingly normal. No one pulled Jeff aside for his little stunt with Goelet’s daughter.
He was saddened to see her seat empty that week, and the week that followed. He stopped going to that class shortly after.
Liu was overall better for it; he had made some friends in the absence of his brother, but there was always some kind of block.
He had met a girl, a nice one from the church. He lied about still going, despite not attending since he was small, and she ate it up. The rest of her friends, though, were moody and confusing to him. He often resorted to silence as his default response. One of her friends had said he was “mysterious” which, to him, felt like “weird freak” in a prettier package.
Despite this, they still invited Liu to a party. Apparently, it was one of the girl's birthdays or something. It was an open invite, too, so Liu had hoped to drag Jeff along. Lately, he had been spending more time with his dog than anyone else.
Since the piglet incident, Jeff had even been avoiding the pen, Maymay squealing at him upon arrival with newfound fear.
Their father, luckily, hadn’t noticed the missing one. That, or he assumed the runt died and was eaten by the other pigs. Jeff was particular with the piglet he chose, knowing which one wouldn’t be missed.
Mr. Woods was sparsely in the home lately, residing in the pub during his waking hours. He left the slaughter business to abandon, which troubled Liu deeply. Their mother wasn’t much consolation, as she seemed to withdraw further each day, meals becoming more miserable as a result. Poorly paired flavors in favor of filling the family's bellies, food unwatched left to spoil.
“Jeff.” The eldest stood at the door of their room, poking his head inside, “Come with me tonight.”
Jeff was lounging on the rickety bed, arms outstretched and head lolled to the side. A cigarette hung lamely against his bottom lip; a magazine adorned with various scantily clad women in his grasp.
“Why?”
Liu shrugged, “Might be fun, get out the house and talk to people.”
“Spare me,” he responded firmly, “that's sounds lame...”
Liu shifted, “There’ll be girls?” he suggested, quirking a brow.
At that, Jeff seemed to pause and consider his brother's words. Wordlessly, he stood and began to rifle through his closet, searching for something to wear. Liu released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and nodded at Jeff.
“I’ll be downstairs.”
The party was fine at best. Jeff was wearing his baggy white hoodie and some distressed jeans with his sneakers, whereas Liu bore an old wifebeater, jumper and his work jeans. Liu’s cross necklace caught the light when he fiddled with it between his fingers. The scent of smoke and beer carried through a backdrop of rainy weather that beat against the tin roof of the home.
It was a quaint set up decorated with warm light, and people sprawled across all surfaces. Liu had quickly found the church girl, as foreign as her presence here seemed to be, and stuck by her for what felt like hours.
Jeff disappeared somewhere into the smokey haze of the living room, muttering something under his breath Liu didn’t catch. Liu sipped on a cold beer that the church girl had presented to him on his arrival. She was blonde, with square shoulders and minimal makeup that allowed a dusting of moles and freckles to peek through.
‘Real marriage material.’ his father would say upon seeing her full figure and long hair pulled into a ponytail. Liu concluded she was too nice to bring home if things continued.
As far as he could tell, she was happy to see him, occasionally gripping his arms and chest as they talked. Feeling brave, he tucked a stray hair behind her ear and watched her cheeks flush pink. She smiled while batting her light lashes, pushing closer to him. His heart stuttered in his chest at the proximity. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask her to sneak off somewhere private but was interrupted.
A loud crash broke the tension, both of them whipping their heads around to follow the sound.
The chaos was blinding. Smoke obscured his vision, and after coughing and waving it away he could faintly see glass scattered on the ground and the living room table tipped on it’s side.
The second thing he noticed were the jean clad legs that lay gangly on the ground with a foxy figure hovering above them.
Jeff was slumped on his back, tossed over the tipped table, clutching his stomach with a wince. Randy balled his fists and leaned menacingly close to him, canines flashing. His brother was snarling viscously, his blue eyes catching the yellow light with pupils like pin pricks as they glared at Randy.
The red head’s clenched knuckles were bloody and pink from impact, tainted by Jeff’s gushing nose. The blonde girl gasped in shock and clutched Liu’s arm, digging her fingertips in the flesh. But he shoved her off, almost blindly, making her stumble as she tried to catch her balance.
Liu pushed through the anticipatory crowd that watched on in hungry fascination. They parted for him as he hurried to his brother's side.
The scene became clearer as he approached. A pudgy boy with a crooked nose stood with a self-assured smirk next to a thin, pale kid who peeked behind Randy. All of them held his vengeful stare.
Jeff didn’t break his gaze once, even when Liu’s legs entered his peripheral vision.
“Got you, fucker.” Randy spit.
“Yeah, you did, now get lost.” Liu retorted, posturing next to his brother. Jeff stood back up, nursing his bruises and brushing sparse glass from his now tattered hoodie. Randy looked at Liu, crinkling his nose.
“Holy shit,” the skinny kid started with a stupid smile, “two for one!”
Randy glanced behind him, “Shut it, Kieth!” He turned back to face Liu, “No one was talking to you, hick.”
He spat the last word with venom, face scrunching with offense, as if the brunette's mere presence was a challenge to his ego.
“Well,” Liu took a step forward, “I’m talking now. So, you can talk to me.” Jeff’s eyes flickered between the two, hands flexing as they hung by his thighs, ready for whatever came next.
Randy laughed heartily, to which his little back up squad mimicked submissively. Without another word, Randy's fist shot forth, but Liu was an artful dodger to quick and violent hands.
Avoiding the impact, he took the opportunity to jab Randy in his side with his elbow. He was winded from the assault; Liu by all accounts had a lot more force and power behind him. Easily crumpling the paper boy on his tower of cards, body like a strong wind that stole his breath.
The two behind Randy looked taken aback for a moment, but the shrill scream of some girl in the crowd broke them out of it. Kieth went to comfort his friend, while Troy stood tall with a sharp inhale, a bead of sweat rolling over his nose and down his chin.
Liu heard the crunching of glass into the carpeted ground as Jeff overtook his position now. Despite the hunch in his back, he was far taller than the fatter boy across from him. Jeff was like a serpent, coiled, dancing, swaying threateningly while staring the boy down.
“Troy,” Jeff spoke with a grin etched into his face, “I’ll put it back into place for you.” He reached for Troys nose, hand hovering inches away from his face. The veiled threat sent the boy out the door, retreating before any conflict continued. Randy's jaw clenched at the spectacle, his eyes widening as he yelled after the boy.
Randy straightened his back, “Fucking useless.”
He tossed an expecting look at Kieth, who despite his stature, seemed far more capable of holding his own. Perhaps a product of false confidence.
He attempted to rush Liu. Why he went for the stacked figure no one would understand. Liu, on reflex, knocked him in the jaw, shaking his fist at the lingering sting. Kieth was surprisingly durable however, and ate the hit with impressive resilience, brushing it off.
He elected for a different method the second time around, gabbing one of the copious sharp objects on the ground and lunging for Liu, swinging in a frenzy.
Liu raised his arms defensively, gritting his teeth when he was slashed across the forearm. It was deep, crimson running in hot rivulets down his arm. He hissed, knitting his brows, braced for another attack.
He poised himself, ready to snatch the makeshift weapon out of the scrawny fuckers' hands. Yet, the second attack never came. Instead, Liu gaped, watching as the attacker's eyes bulged out of his skull. He was hoisted inches off the ground by the material of his shirt. With a sharp smack, he was slammed into the shrapnel littering the ground. Jeff towering above the body beneath him now.
Unfortunately, unlike Jeff’s thick hoodie, the boy had a singlet on, and Kieth yelped as he made contact with the rough debris, knees stinging furiously.
Randy, who still had his hands placed protectively over his torso, took a step back. Liu was ready to utilize the moment of pause, muscles coiled and ready to spring.
But before he could, his attention was drawn away by Jeff, who straddled a whimpering Keith on the ground with his teeth bared in an open grin. He released a series of unrelenting attacks upon his face, blood splattering across his sweatshirt, seeping deeply into the fabric. The white fibers of the hoodie congealed from the onslaught of dark liquid.
The blows escalated from dull thuds to wet squelches of viscera. Liu was frozen in place, entranced by the horror, unable to get himself to move. When Jeff didn't relent even after Kieth had stopped twitching, the morbid entertainment at the conflict dissolved from the crowd, who began to protest in fear.
“Holy shit, he’s gonna kill him!” Someone among the haze of faces exclaimed, dread and panic evident in their voice. The crowd started undulating in an agitated swarm, voices rising, manic.
Finally, Liu’s feet were released from where they were planted against the floor. He cupped his brother under the arm and dragged him off the unmoving figure, tearing Jeff away as if he were a rabid animal.
Keith laid as a bloody pulp on the ground, motionless. Randy was shuddering violently, hands tugging at his hair in raw terror.
Before the crowd could riot or process the boy's state, Liu stumbled away with Jeff, who was staring at the scene with a content smile.
His fingers fumbled fruitlessly for his keys in his pocket, and he yelled for Jeff to get in the car, urgently, finally managing to grab his keys.
Jeff was laughing, chest heaving with mirth, his lips curled in a heinous imitation of joy.
Liu floored the gas, paranoia swirling in his gut with growing nausea and dread. He felt as though he were being suffocated, his throat constricting, unable to suck in enough air.
Surely, surely the boy would get up?
His face was unrecognizable after the attack, swollen and sputtering, gruesome. His fingers had twitched and gone limp at his side. Liu swallowed hard, shaking the thoughts away, banishing them. Periodically, Liu would glance at his brother in his peripherals. But for the entire ride home, Jeff's grin never faltered.
In quiet moments, Liu could hear the muffled sounds of a snicker.
The road was illuminated only by the pickup's headlights, hardly penetrating the smothering darkness. Which didn’t help Liu’s anxiety. If anyone was following them, the dark country roads wouldn't reveal it. Liu could only see right beyond the beams of light on the path in front of him, the surroundings a blackened inky sea, swirling nauseatingly. Liu’s knuckles whitened against the steering wheel.
Liu ushered his brother inside, head wildly snapping back and forth. When the door shut behind them, Liu took his time peeking through the windows before pulling the blinds closed.
When he was sure they hadn’t been followed, he gripped his hair with growing desperation, profanities tumbling from his mouth. He paced around the living room while Jeff sat on the couch sneaking looks at him through his bangs.
He’d stopped smiling, finally, but the corners of his lips still twitched from the comedown of the high.
Liu spun on his heels to face his brother, “What,” he accused, “is wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
His voice was shrill, but his brother remained infuriatingly impassive, shrugging and folding his into his lap. His pupils were blown out, large like a feline zeroed in on a mouse, and his breath came in soft pants.
He looked eerily calm, restrained.
Liu's face flushed in frustration, “You could’ve killed him, Jeff! Oh God, he might already be dead...” Liu slid his back against the wall, crumpling into himself.
Jeff’s face fell, “He’s not dead.” he spoke sternly, brows drawing together.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I could feel his breath!” At that response, Liu’s mouth hung open at the audacity.
He wanted to snap back, to retort, but couldn’t find the words. It was a senseless justification; he might’ve been still alive when they left, but that many hits to the head didn’t bode well. Before Liu could muster a response, the silence of the night was broken by a bellowing bark and symphony of shrieks.
The Pen.
The pyrenees was going wild, snarls and barks so vicious you could hear the snapping of teeth colliding with one another.
The brothers were quick to move, exchanging a wide eyed look, quickening their pace the closer they got to the chaos.
As they crossed the field, drawing closer, the brothers became aware of twin lights in the distance, breaking the empty air darkness, illuminating the unseen insects and dust swirling in the air. The wails and barks were rabid, darkness engulfing the scene, shrouding it in the unknown.
The boys heaved as they reached the pen, staggering to stand between the opening and the mystery car.
The dog was positioned on his hind legs, corners of its mouth frothing with saliva. The rumbling engine of the car cut, and from the abyss emerged Randy, red hair illuminated by the light. Something hidden in his grip caught the light, glinting.
The night air was swallowed by barking, the dog practically howling, teeth gnashing.
Jeff and Liu stood apprehensively, backs to the pen, eyes trained on the approaching Randy.
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Randy seethed, lunging forward with a brandished pocket knife in hand.
Liu instinctively grappled for Jeff, intending to push him out of the way. But Randy collapsed into the wet mud unceremoniously. A blood curdling scream pierced their ears, and Randy thrashed desperately in the mud, ankle firmly clamped between the dog's jaws. The dog swung its head wildly, saliva turning from a white foam into a deep red, meddling with the blood slowly soaking into the fabric of his socks.
He continued to shriek, raising his knife high above his head, trying and failing to strike the beast down. The Pyrenees was a formidable opponent, though, and it lunged for the boy’s face. In the midst of trying to pry away the teeth that sunk into his supple flesh, Randy dropped the blade into the grass below. His arms flailed, fruitlessly trying to find purchase on the blade that was eaten by the soft earth and oppressive darkness.
Jeff lunged forward, grabbing a handful of his dog's scruff, pulling flesh and muscle as he reeled back. Randy clutched the marred skin, blood gushing between his fingers. He writhed around the dirt in pain, screams turning into weak pants.
“What in God’s name!” Mr. Woods was roused by the onslaught of echoing wails and was standing, gun in hand, lit up in the beams of Randy’s headlights.
It didn’t take long for the ambulance to arrive, wheeling away a disoriented Randy on a stretcher. Jeff and Liu gave their statements to the police on the scene. Jeff's hands hadn't left the dog's bloody fur as the night unfolded, red and blue lights shimmering against the crimson splattered on the ground.
The police deemed the incident an unfortunate result of trespassing by foolish kids.
They both received a warning for the night, the knife attack being hearsay since Randy couldn't land a blow and no one could locate the weapon. It also helped that Troy had dogged his friends in, confessing teary eyed to his mother that he didn't want to be friends with them anymore. That, coupled with the nasty gash on Liu’s forearm, relieved the family of most consequence.
Kieth was also fortunately still alive, already roused from unconsciousness in hospital. All things considered, the night concluded a lot better than anticipated. Rattled but safe, the family returned inside to forget about the night altogether, falling into restless slumber.
For the next month, Randy’s father came to their door daily, threatening the family. Mr. Woods was the one to answer first, and had promptly slammed the door shut in the man's face. He would peer through the window, yelling belligerently, cursing the family for what they did to his son.
“I’ll get you and that rotten mutt!” he had exclaimed repeatedly, vein popping in his forehead.
Even when Randy got out of hospital, the abuse didn’t subside, with the father gathering his own extensive bloodline to stalk around the property provocatively.
Jeff started sleeping in the pen again, feeling indebted to his loyal companion. He cooed over him and soothed him against the persistent heckling, hushing him when he would tense at the taunts. He slept, face pressed against his white coat, in case anyone dared to overstep that fence and be a vigilante.
He would wake occasionally to the sound of rocks hitting the pen, once even stirring awake to the smell of meat thrown over the fence, hitting the dirt with a wet thump.
Bait, Randy’s folks were attempting to bait his dog. He hugged that fur tighter every night.
Liu and his father would take shifts sitting on the rocking chair on the old porch, shotgun at arm's length. Mrs. Woods would be seen sporadically peeking out the windows, paranoia drawing her face into tight lines.
The tension wasn’t dying down anytime soon, so the brothers had no choice but to return to school and attempt to complete the year. Their peers had returned to avoiding the brothers like the plague, whispering accusations and poisonous rumors as they passed.
One gloomy night, Jeff had returned home from a long day of school with Liu and headed back out to prepare some feed for the week. Like usual, he dropped his bag on the floor, kicking his sneakers off and stuffing his feet into the faded, mud-soaked wellies propped against the wall.
He made way to the pen, eager to see his boy after a long day of boredom. Peeking his head into the entryway, he searched the room, bewildered when he didn't catch hide nor hair of his fluffy companion. The pigs oinked at him curiously with wide eyes. He pursed his lips.
Ducking back out, he began checking along the outside, searching diligently for signs of life. However, his dog wasn't patrolling the perimeter, either.
No bother, he could be off relieving himself, Jeff reasoned. Yet, a creeping sense of unease tangled in his chest. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he took a deep inhale of the chilly air. Using the lungful to project his voice, breath billowing around his face, he began to call for him.
His feet planted into the sludge as he trudged around the property, a deep pit forming in his gut. The cold felt constricting the longer he was outside and fruitlessly searching, his cheeks stinging with its touch.
After a good half hour of this, his breathing became increasingly ragged, mind racing with unfavorable conclusions. The sun crested the trees, casting a weak golden glow on the darkening fields. Empty. Jeff jogged back inside.
Uncaring about the tracks of mud he left in his wake, Jeff frantically searched the house. He practically turned it upside down, checking in places the big Pyrenees couldn't possibly fit. His movements were progressively more manic, calling to the dog every few moments.
Maybe...maybe his dog came inside? Maybe his father let the dog indoors to avoid the assailants.
Liu still wasn’t home yet, and Mr. Woods was seated in his recliner, reading the newspaper, oblivious to the world around him. Jeff paused his erratic searching to face his father.
“Sir?” He cautioned, not wanting to set him off. Finding his dog was of paramount importance, and if that meant being civil with his father, so be it. Mr. Woods grunted in response, as if to say, ‘get on with it, boy.’
Jeff continued, forcefully casual, “Have you seen the dog today?”
Mr. Woods licked his thumb, the crinkling of the paper deafening as he turned the page.
“The dog?” Jeff encouraged, expecting an answer.
Mr. Woods shook his head, “More trouble than it was worth, boy.”
The air felt liquid, and time seemed to halt altogether. Jeff didn’t feel his limbs moving, nor did he notice the change in the weather when he went back outside.
His mind felt slower than the world around him as the pen came into view. Shadows cast by the trees hung accusatory across the dirt path and Jeff's knees buckled as he collapsed into the wooden opening.
He eyed the flattened earth, marked from years of heavy slumber from his precious mutt. He crawled along the ground, dirt packing into his nails and smearing along his knees. His throat was tight, he wasn't able to suck in enough air, his vision narrow.
Some of the pigs waddled their fat bodies closer, curious, snorting the air around Jeff. He curled up into the depression in the ground, tucking his legs and arms close. Jeff hugged himself and wailed. Taken from him, it was all taken from him.
His tether to humanity, the one thing beneath him he still found care for. Gone in one cruel action.
He sobbed and wailed like a child until his body gave out.
Liu found him that morning, tossing an old blanket over his shaking form. His lips were blue and the tips of his fingers and nose were bitten from the cold. Every shaky breath manifested in cloudy white puffs of air inches from his face. His eyes were open and bloodshot, staring blankly into nothing.
Snot and tears were crusted dryly onto his face. Liu gazed on sympathetically; he managed to piece together what had happened. His warm hand fell onto his brother's shoulder, rubbing comforting circles along his arm.
Jeff didn’t react to the contact, continuing to stare off into space, unseeing. Liu released his hold with a brief squeeze, dragging the hand down his own face.
He was tired. Of all of it. He felt aged and ragged and had no resolve anymore, as if he had been thrown into the whirling depths of exhaustion and despair, unable to claw his way out. He looked at the pathetic mess of his sibling, who seemed so far away at his feet. It was the first time in a while that Liu felt taller than his brother.
“One night.” He told him, “One more night you can stay here, and then I'm taking my brother back.”
There was a small flicker of acknowledgement in Jeff’s cloudy vision and Liu left him like that.
Tomorrow, he’d take his brother inside, clean him up, and scrounge together a way to get them both out of there.
Their father had abandoned his duties as the breadwinner, recognizing that the brothers were getting too big to keep under his thumb and at his mercy. Jeff’s revolt had frightened him and the man for a moment, he recognised his wife in those wild eyes.
He turned to the bottle, face perpetually red, speech slurred, and it wouldn’t be much longer before the money dried up.
Mother had stopped cooking, wandering aimlessly in the halls of the house like a ghost. She was so disconnected from life, she might as well have already been dead. At night, Liu would hear her nails raking along the walls, as if searching for something under the floral wallpaper. Her mind was far gone, maybe buried beneath the creaking wood of the floorboards. A distant memory of a mother haunted the home.
When Liu prepped the feed the previous night, he found himself rationing it. The plumpness of the pigs would fade and they’d become skinny, unmarketable cuts of flesh. Discarded.
Jeff, for all intents and purposes, was his only family left, and Liu refused to let the sickness of this home consume him too. They had a car, and they were both capable of work. Even if it meant scrubbing floors and living motel to motel, Liu would figure it out.
He feared that any longer in this household would drive them both to lunacy.
And on top of it all, his father had shot the dog. The dog that guarded his prized brood and kept the family fed. His father had shot it dead, and the town was still insatiable. Shadows from passing cars danced against the drawn blinds of the home, an ever-present warning. A promise.
Yeah, Liu thought, they needed to get out of here.
He’d allow his brother to mourn, say a final goodbye, and then Liu would drive them both as far away from the wretched home as possible. This bastardization of family, he would take it no more.
Scrambling around their bedroom, the one they’d shared all their lives, he grabbed and stuffed whatever he thought essential into two large duffle bags he’d managed to drag out of the attic. He went over to his bed, gripping the metal frame, and he hauled it back Underneath was a floorboard that protruded outward like a waterlogged roof.
Liu wrenched his calloused hands under the splintering wood and, with a ragged breath, pulled with all his strength to dislodge the panel from its position. Beneath the now open panel was stacks of cash Liu had spent the past year hiding from Mr. Woods.
He had pried the panel open when he began collecting the cash, stashing it away. Any time his father questioned the missing money, he would deflect by reminding him of his wife's medication.
It wasn’t a lot, but it would be enough for the two to survive until they figured out work.
The biggest issue would be getting his brother hired, as they’d never had to get a job outside the farm before. And Jeff was never one for change.
He stuffed the money deep under the clothing off the duffle bag, making sure it’d be hidden from drunken hands.
Lui dragged the duffle bags down the stairs, placing them next to the door. Mr. Woods stared at him, bottle in hand, from the recliner he refused to move from.
“Where the fuck do you think…think you’re going?” He slurred, barely making it through the sentence, drool seeping from the corner of his lip, eyes half lidded and glossy.
Liu huffed as he looked at the pathetic man, “I’m taking Jeff and I away for the weekend. Until everything cools off.”
Mr. Woods took his now empty bottle and hurled it at the floor. He sunk deeper into the recliner, disapproval painted across his features. It didn’t matter, though, because there was nothing he could do to stop Liu.
A miserable acceptance settled over the room, like a thick fog of dissonance. A silence that held many unspoken words. Distantly, he could hear his mother's shuffling feet from upstairs. The air suddenly felt colder.
Day melted into evening, which settled into night. Thick clouds shielded what little light the stars and moon provided in that isolated farm, and it had been a while since the fireflies had been around.
Jeff still stared, open eyed, at nothing, limbs feeling too heavy to move. One of the piglets from Maymay’s litter had curled up near his feet, sniffing and oinking softly. He wondered if the pigs knew their protector was gone, if they missed him. He wondered if they were capable of such emotion; perhaps they only felt scared or uncertain.
If they did, Jeff couldn’t tell either way.
He felt thankful for the blanket draped over his body as a particularly cold gust of wind blew through the open entrance. It carried the smell of alcohol, strong enough to sting his nostrils.
Ugh, must be his father.
Jeff considered killing his dad; it’s not like his dad loved them anyway, and now he had a great reason to kill the man. Not to mention, Jeff knew the pigs would grow hungry soon, judging by the looks of the feed. They’d eat anything but teeth if need be.
The dried spittle on his chin cracked as a wheezed breath escaped him, almost a laugh. He waited for his father to stumble through the door, and Jeff would strangle him right there with the blanket—leaving him to the swine.
He started to shake, limbs tingling awake, and the strange stench grew stronger, breaking through the smell of livestock. As Jeff propped himself up on his elbows, he froze, hearing hushed whispers.
For a moment, he thought the dehydration and lack of sleep was making him delirious, but the voices were unmistakable. Jeff pressed his good ear against the wooden wall, shushing the concerned snorts of the swine.
Maymay peered at him wearily and everything suddenly went quiet. Even the crickets and rustling from the wind stilled. Pressing further into the wall, Jeff heard a faint click and one distinct sentence.
“Light this fucker up.”
White hot flames roared to life, climbing along the wooden shed, kissing the roof before Jeff could even comprehend what was happening. All-consuming heat engulfed the shed, ignited in red and orange, black smoke choking the oxygen. The swine began running around in a flurried panic, squealing.
It was burning, everything was burning. They screeched and tried to dart for the opening, but the unkempt wooden panels quickly collapsed inward, blocking all those present inside the indiscriminate hungry fire.
The heat was unbearable now, licking at his flesh, singing his hair, suffocating his lungs.
Just beyond the sound of wailing meat and hungry flames was the sound of jeers and laughter. Illuminated in red were two figures; a plump boy and a redhead. Jeff finally found his voice and he screamed his throat raw. His shirt had caught, and he could feel the fire dangerously close to the skin beneath, biting it.
One of the pigs was alight already, spreading the flame further in its panic, running in fruitless circles, the smell of burning flesh clogging the smoke. Jeff tried to scream again, but the smoke suffocated him, scorching his lungs. He sputtered and hacked onto the ground, saliva black with soot, vision spinning.
As more pigs collapsed, he found his voice one last time, his hysterical cry breaking through the overbearing noise of burning swine.
Liu’s eyes cracked open, wincing at the light which penetrated through the cracks of the window. He groaned, digging his thumb and forefinger into his eyelids.
He stood, stretching his stiff muscles, yawning
“What is going on?” he murmured, confused.
One eye closed, he peeked through the glowing crack of the window. For a moment, he couldn’t make sense of the scene in front of him. But when reality sunk in, he was rushing down the stairs, stumbling.
Feet heavy, he burst out the door quicker than the locks could bear, leaving them to swing from marred hickory. His parents were stirred by the commotion, chasing after him while shouting.
“What’s wrong with you? Boy!” Mr. Woods slurred, words dying in his throat as his eyes landed on the flames flickering in the distance.
Suffocating, thickened ash filled the air, scents of flesh singing nostrils and howls of agony echoing.
The pen was devoured by flames, the height of it kissing the willowy trees that hung above. Randy and Troy stood just outside the flames’ reach, faces alight with horror at the sight before them.
Without thought, Liu tackled Randy to the ground, knocking the lighter out of his hand. He grappled his wrists, vaguely aware of his father collapsing to his knees beside him.
“It’s gone, it’s all gone!” Mr. Woods yelled, catching the smoke in his throat, coughing.
On cue, the roof of the pen caved in, igniting the fire anew and releasing the trapped screams inside. Some of the pigs, burning, escaped the flames and ran. None made it far, legs failing as they dropped, bodies giving out. Their skin was blackened and raw, layers of flesh and fat exposed to the cold air, eyes melted from their skulls.
Liu grabbed Randy by the collar of his shirt, shaking him in his tight grip, “What did you do? What the fuck did you do?”
His voice broke as his eyes became wet ,not realizing he was crying until a tear landed squarely on Randy’s face. Randy's hands were trembling, mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish as he tried to find an excuse.
Troy was still standing, awe struck at the flames, eyes reflecting the carnage. The squeals were dying out as seconds dragged on to minutes.
Randy sounded like his age for once, naive and afraid, stuttering out, “We-we didn’t… we didn't know.” He shook his head frantically, “We thought it was pigs! Just pigs!”
His words fell on deaf ears, hands releasing their grip on the collar to find the exposed throat of the fox below him. Randy quickly grasped his wrists in a weakened grip, pleading.
Mrs. Woods approached the flames still clad in her nightdress. Her eyes were glossy, fogged with familiar distance.
Horrified understanding trembled across her face in one fleeting sweep. She reached a hand up, concerningly close to the threshold beyond safety, twitching. Mr. Woods motioned to corral his distant wife, but paused when he noticed the now raised hand of Troy. Finger outstretched, his hand quivered as he pointed to the gulf of the fire.
Mrs. Woods muttered, “My baby, my little girl?” Liu released his grip on the throat below him, following the line of hands into the center of the fire.
Emerging from the flames was a figure, silhouette undeniable as it passed over the fallen structure. Feet pushing aside corpses and charred wooden planks, walking like a fresh babe without motor function.
“Jeff?” Liu pleaded, moving closer.
Jeff stepped forth from the flame, following the call blindly.
For a brief moment, he seemed to smile at his brother. It was so brief, it could have been a simple trick of light. Maybe it was a mirage, created in the recesses of Liu’s mind, and maybe none of that mattered anymore.
Before his brother’s eyes, under the smoke obscured stars and glossy gazes, Jeff collapsed to the sullen earth, and died.
The smell of burnt livestock and feces radiated over the distant town, and in some indiscernible amount of time, sirens could be heard approaching the now settling flames. The wet earth and torrential weather were desperately welcomed to cull the manifesting death.
Whatever money Liu had managed to scrounge up over the years had gone to setting up Jeff’s post-surgery home care. It had been several months of inpatient medical treatment and various operations to get him prepared for the return home.
He was adorned in both compression garments and gauze, leaving his face and mouth concealed. His hands and legs remained mostly unharmed; covered in wet earth, the flames had left only first-degree burns to redden the skin.
The rest of his body, however, was littered with both second and third-degree scarring. The taunt skin snaked around his torso in contracture stripes, occasionally making an appearance when the gauze shifted.
The laundry list of medications and wound care the medical team had given Liu was hard to understand, the length of some of the words far surpassing his own vocabulary.
But the fire had eaten more than just his flesh; it consumed the hearing from one ear and half the sight in his right eye, and four of his toes had to be amputated.
He needed help to even walk to the bathroom.
All of that was fine, though. Liu could handle it for his little brother.
What had been bothering him the most, waking him from the ever-present nightmares, was the idea of changing the dressings.
None of the family had seen Jeff’s face since that night.
Their father was halfway in the grave himself, drinking so heavily he spent more time asleep than awake, alcohol always within grasp. Mrs. Woods would only leave barely edible meals outside the brother's room, and if it weren't for those plates, Liu could convince himself she had disappeared altogether. She was a ghost, swept away in the wind, shuffling feet absent. Haunting the house; present, but on a different plane.
Therefore, Jeff’s care was left to Liu, who took on the responsibility without complaint.
Liu sat on a chair across from the bandaged figure sleeping on the wireframe bed. The figure's chest was heaving deeply, small puffs of air escaping his open mouth.
Liu’s hands were clasped in front of his face, brows drawn together. He felt conflicted, finding himself at a crossroad of emotion.
He was surprised, happy, and horrified that his brother had survived.
He wondered if his relief was selfish in nature, if his relief stemmed from fear of having to grieve his loved one, unable to imagine letting go. He wondered if, perhaps, it would have been for the best if Jeff had died that night, unceremoniously among the swine he spent the most time with.
He knew the pain must’ve been unbearable, even with the concoction of sedatives and painkillers constantly running through his veins. From the fitful twitching, to the clammy appearance on the minimally exposed skin, it was sickeningly clear to Liu that Jeff was in pain.
He wondered what was going through Jeff’s mind, if he was cognitive of his fate, and what that meant for his psyche. How had Jeff felt in that pen? Did he wake to the fire and smoke in a panic, scrambling for salvation with the pigs?
It was hard for Liu to picture his brother, so wickedly self-assured and unfazed by the world, being stricken with panic and agony. Subordinate to the flames, fire, light, and consumption.
Realising he was trapped, that this was the end.
Except it hadn’t been, and now he was trapped once again, this time in the confines of his own scorched flesh and gauze holding him together. Liu’s brother, so dependent now, so incapable, any spark of rebellion and acidity stripped against his own volition. How could he possibly be feeling, if he felt at all?
Liu placed a tender hand on the blanket sitting against Jeff’s chest, feeling the muscles twitch upon contact. He reached forth to cup the gauze wrapped around his face, watching his lips strain, breathing becoming more ragged. Carefully removing the metal clips to avoid furthering his discomfort, he peeled, revealing the carnage layer by layer.
As he approached the last of the gauze, Liu's hand trembled. He withdrew, trying to shake his discomfort and gather himself.
He reasoned internally, reminding himself that he needed to do this for him, that he wasn't the one suffering here. Against any mounting anxiety, Liu finished undressing his brother’s face.
He was unrecognizable. A stranger laying in the spot he could have sworn Jeff occupied moments earlier.
His skin was patchy with burst blisters, blooming primarily on the right side of his face, crawling down his neck and jaw in red spirals.
The irritated, pink flesh looked painful, although the nurses had informed Liu that the second to third-degree burns meant extensive nerve damage and the silver lining was minimal pain.
Where his nose once situated, there was nothing but the taut sheen of the skin graft with two dark caverns for nostrils. Reconstructive efforts had done their best to restore Jeff’s appearance, but the muscle and cartilage was too far gone, prioritizing function over aesthetics at that point.
His right ear was flat to the side of his face, the remaining skin of the area a scaley scar with a rough surface.
The parts of his hair that remained were short and unkempt from his hospital stay, a large chunk from his hairline recessed, presumably never to grow back.
The eyes that gazed up at Liu were wide and unblinking, bloodshot and partially cloudy on the right side, looking past his brother. For a moment, Liu saw his brother lying in that pen the morning before, gazing distantly in mourning, and guilt settled in the eldest heart.
If he had dragged his brother inside, wrenching him from his wallowing the morning he found him, none of this would have happened. If he had stopped his father from killing the dog, from putting a bullet in the one thing Jeff truly loved, or if he grew a spine and stood up to the man like Jeff always wanted, this could’ve all been avoided.
But it wasn’t, and now Liu had to take responsibility for this, for his brother, for his only family.
He was waiting for that feeling of recognition, that bond of familiarity to warm inside him.
But there was nothing.
The body before him felt and looked like a complete stranger; uncharted territory.
Pushing aside the rising emotion in his chest, Liu started unwrapping the rest of the layers, revealing more burn, more red.
He redressed the wounds hastily, eyes stinging, trying his best to maintain gentleness in his movements. He stepped back, examining the silhouette before him, swallowing the consequences of his compliance as he forced himself to look. To really look at his brother– or, at least, what was left. He turned away, unable to bear it much longer.
He grabbed his brother's medication, washing it down his throat to minimal resistance apart from some breathy whines, ringing and reverberating through Liu's ears like a sick chime.
Liu slumped back into the chair, throat closing up, vision blurring. His head fell into his hands and he cried. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks in fat droplets.
His brother had died. How could he not be dead? He saw him collapse! He witnessed his brother's soul evaporating from his singed flesh, intertwining with the black smoke rising into the night sky, away from Earth, to elsewhere.
He was mourning a man that was right in front of him and had no one to turn to.
He was living with a corpse. The corpse of someone he loved, taunting him with wheezing breaths and unseeing eyes.
That was how life was for months. Months that passed aqueously and seemed to slip through his fingers. A nonconsensual ravaging of his life that became total destruction of his autonomy.
Liu’s life was consumed by caring for his brother, his parents offering no relief, choosing to retreat into their own vices. If anything, they only added to the oppressive environment, sucking the life from Liu's veins.
All the while, Liu waited, desperately clinging to the idea of his brother, who felt more like a concept than a tangible form or person, in no way reflective of the body on the bed.
There was nothing, nothing in those countless moments Liu spent tending to the body that was once his brother's.
He didn't emit that familiar warmth, no longer exhibiting those quirks and features in his small movements. The earthy, laborious odor of the farm Jeff used to wear gave way to the sterile smell of bacitracin and gauze.
Jeff never uttered a word, which was perhaps the hardest part of it all. All he did was stare off into the distance, eyes dull and lifeless, reflecting Liu's gaze back at him. Sometimes, Liu imagined that he could see an accusing tinge to his stare, as if condemning Liu.
When he wasn't caring for the body, Liu was manically scrubbing at every surface he could reach, the house seemingly in a perpetual state of filth despite his efforts.
The fire had left foul smelling soot that clung to one's nostrils far after it dissipated. Liu found himself cleaning the home multiple times a day, especially in the kitchen, where the open window had welcomed the filth inside.
Scrubbing dutifully, he was lost in his own world. He was like that for a while, until his thoughts were interrupted by a disturbance upstairs.
At first, he convinced himself it was his mother, shuffling aimlessly. But that explanation didn't last long when he heard the distinct sound of metal scraping against wood.
Dropping the dusty rag, he trotted up the stairs, bewildered. Had Jeff gotten up? Was he moving? Did he need something, was he himself again? His heart was thrumming faster against his chest, anticipatory, hoping against all hope.
Liu softly pried the door open, careful to avoid spooking the figure inside.
His narrow vision from the crack in the door only allowed him to see to the corner of the room. Slowly, working from the ground up, Liu's eyes traced the figure occupying the space, his focus a sharp pinpoint. Standing there, murmurming indecipherable words, was Jeff.
Tufts of black hair sneaked from the dressings, his exposed legs pink and blistered, quivering with disuse. The rhythm of his muttering was erratic and soft, as if he were arguing with himself.
Liu risked cracking the door further, concerned, paranoia biting along his vertebrae.
“Jeff?” He inquired gently, voice low. As if on cue, a large slam shook the ground behind him, tearing his attention away, the hairs on the back of his neck raising with alarm.
When he snapped his gaze back to Jeff, his eyes practically vibrated in their sockets. Beneath the blankets, a sleeping figure laid with zero indication of movement.
“What...what?” Liu wheezed to no one in particular, suddenly winded. He squeezed his eyes shut and closed the door again. Liu stood in the empty hall, beside himself, deciding he needed to get more sleep. He casted one last glance behind him as he trudged away, a small part of him expecting to see a clouded eye staring back at him.
The second time an incident similar took place, Liu had been asleep. It was his sense of smell that twitched him awake, his nostrils burning. A strong odor of smoke wafted through the bedroom, parallel to the room Jeff's body occupied. He faced away from the open door, back exposed.
Fitfully, he turned around, noticing a discarded blanket strewn across the other room's floor. The bed was vacant.
Anxiety nipping at his heels, Liu stood, heading for the toilet, assuming Jeff would be there. He froze in place when something from the window caught in his peripherals.
He turned slowly, neck tingling. The window perfectly framed the remains of the pig pen in its center, which was nothing but a pile of charred wood and discarded life.
Standing still, staring at the pile, was a skinny silhouette, outlined with unwinding gauze. Liu’s gaze was only broken when it whipped its head to stare right back.
Frightened, Liu ducked out of sight, heart in his throat as he rushed down the stairs.
It was cold out, his brother must be delirious. Must be having some kind of night terror, or must be lost.
Upon opening the front door, Liu found the darkness of night absent. Golden, hot sun beamed down from above, glittering and sweltering, as if someone flipped a switch on the time of day. Liu's chest felt tight, vision blotted out from the abrupt change of environment. His stomach flipped and nausea threatened to crawl up his throat. What the fuck was happening? Was this some kind of nightmare?
When his vision returned, Liu caught no sight of his brother. His breath stuttered, taking in the sight of pure daylight, entire body shaking despite the heat.
Liu fought his instincts and decided to check out the glowing pen that was practically a beacon beneath the rays of sunlight. He could feel a strange allure to it, as if he were drawn to the area, even when every hair on his body begged him to turn away.
He felt the heavy weight of eyes burning into his back as he wandered further from the home, and he glanced back, sight trailing up to their bedroom window. He discovered the curtains had been drawn closed, a flicker of movement from inside catching his attention.
He dashed back inside, the soles of his feet slipping in the warm mud, sweat trickling down his jaw. He staggered up the steps, leaving the glaring light of day and the alluring pig pen behind.
“Jeff!” Liu called out, panicked, voice strangled.. What the fuck was going on? He shoved the door open, panting.
All that greeted him was the body tucked into the bed, chest rising and falling softly to the sound of crickets. Moonlight casted upon the white sheets, bathing the room in silver light.
After that, Liu’s sleep was on rapid decline. Often, he’d find himself crawling into bed, fighting the waking world, desperate for slumber, only to suddenly be met by daylight streaming in the window.
It felt as if only moments had passed, as if he had slept without realizing. Liu didn’t feel as if he’d slept a wink.
However, more pressing matters smothered his attention. There were two figures he always found himself chasing; the absent body in the bed, and the figure roaming the halls maniacally.
Sounds and scents haunted him, and at one point he frantically searched the halls for hours, convinced he heard the sound of a plump hog’s hooves clicking against the wooden floor. He wasn’t even quite sure what he’d do with the pig if he found it.
Having caught himself nearly mixing his mothers and Jeff’s medication one night, Liu opted to go to bed early, hoping to sleep off whatever was afflicting him.
He rationalized that this feverish nightmare could be insomnia or an affliction, potentially a combination of the two.
Liu decided he would ignore the night’s assault on his senses unless he was sure it was necessary to address. He fed the pain medication to Jeff and then promptly collapsed into his own bed, wrinkling the sheets with a tight grip, “Goodnight, Jeff.” His voice was weary, but he willed himself to lay his head down and close his eyes.
Unbearable pressure on his chest. Suffocating weight grappling his lungs with an iron fist, strangling him. He woke with a start, vision a blur as he attempted to shove the assailant off of him.
He struggled to make sense of what was happening, panicked.
A figure towered above him, dark shadows cast along its features. Loose bandages hung haphazardly by Liu's face, brushing his cheek, exposing only a mouth.
Sleep and panicked confusion still holding him in its grip, Liu croaked out, “Jeff?”
A sharp pain twisted in the center of his chest, radiating in throbbing waves of heat and static.Eyes widening, Liu’s gaze left his brother, catching the glint of silver bathed in the moonlight.
He glanced down, chest heaving, the seams of the gash vibrating. Sticky crimson coated his torso, spreading, dark and rapid.
Was he bleeding? Was he dying? Jeff, did Jeff do this—no, surely not his brother?
The figure above him cracked open its mouth and smiled madly, his brother’s voice fanning across his face, echoing in the empty walls of the bedroom. It let out a long, moaning hush, shushing the figure beneath it.
“Go to sleep...”
Liu woke with a start, gasping for air as he sat upright, clutching his chest, pupils dilated like a wild animal. He whipped his head around, disoriented. He wasn’t in his bed, instead in his father's recliner. He couldn’t recall moving downstairs, but at this point, he didn’t care to know.
Liu felt...good. Really good. Despite the anxious beating of his heart he felt awake for the first time in a long time.
He settled into the recliner, his racing heart calming, relief like a wave in the depths of his bones. It must have been a nightmare, he concluded, considering the lack of blood and his seemingly unharmed body.
With a spring in his step, Liu walked to the bathroom, intending to feel alive again. He splashed cold water on his face to wake his skin, feeling it tingle upon contact.
He leaned down to repeat the motion, suddenly hissing in pain and grasping the counter for balance. Sharp pain radiated from his abdomen.
Gritting his teeth, Liu lifted his shirt, jaw slack when his eyes landed on a large slash along his torso, stretching from under his left nipple down to his right hip in a pink, fresh cut.
It wasn’t bleeding, oddly enough, and looked cleanly patched up.
“The fuck?” Liu muttered, running a finger lightly over the wound, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth at the sting. He racked his brain at the sight, returning to the nightmare from before.
Surely, his brother hadn’t attacked him? He could barely stand, let alone wield a knife and hold him down.
Liu was standing outside the duo’s bedroom door. Jeff would need his medication soon enough. Something in Liu’s head was telling him not to. Telling him to turn away, stirring a deep feeling of primal instinct in his gut. Was that body behind the door his brother? Was that catatonic corpse, so unresponsive, really Jeff?
Those nightmares and allusions of the figure often felt more real than what was objectively the reality.
Was it so mad to think his brother was capable of such harm?
Jeff, who had been consumed by the fire and had smiled, smiled right at Liu.
Jeff, who killed the piglets he coveted and took glee in fathers' self-destruction.
Was it presumptuous of him to assume his brother–surely not in his right mind–was incapable of turning his anger on his brother?
Liu was reminded of all their childish squabbles in this home, the busted lips and blackened eyes. None of that could be seen in the corpse lying on that bed. He had to be sure, though, and so he opened the door with a deafening creak.
The room was shrouded in darkness and the body lay placid, barely breathing on the wireframe bed.
The world shifted as he stepped forward, “You don’t talk anymore.” He accused. “You don’t even look at me when I change the dressings.”
Fitfully, the figure twitched at the words. Liu scoffed, scornfully, “How can you be my brother?”
He pressed further and gripped the bandaged face with none of the gentleness he had subjected it to prior.
The bandages moved, pushing the flesh beneath which cringed upon contact. Liu’s fingers found the corner of the figure’s mouth and pulled—forcing the mouth into an open lipped smile, stomach turning with revulsion.
The body fought the assault, soft breath turning into pained whimpers, trying to shift its head from the hold. Liu dropped his hand back to his side, leaving the body alone for now. “Yeah,” he realised, “You are definitely not my brother.”
He could see clearly, could see the fingers on his hands and the shoes on his feet. Liu’s eyes did not lie, he saw his brother die in that fire and whoever that was couldn’t be him.
It smelt like death, whatever it was, with rotten soiled flesh leaking fluids into the mattress. He saw that open cavernous nose, a nose that could only be the product of decay. No one could survive what his brother went through. No one.
This thing was within his brother's corpse, wearing Jeff’s skull and forcing Liu to suffer more. To tend hand and foot to a sibling who should be buried. His brother’s body couldn’t rest, was kept perpetually suffering and without the capability to end it himself. For why? What purpose? Liu gingerly touched his shirt over that laceration on his chest.
Liu would allow this exploitation no longer.
He left the room, pushing the door open, but he was met with resistance on the other end. Confused, he tried again, this time the resistance giving way to the sight of his mother on the other side.
Her face was colourless, lips parted slightly. She lifted her hands up to cup her son's face, stroking lightly. Her appearance was offensive, with hair matted into a thick mass and a nightdress stained with urine, blood, and saliva.
She smelt like she looked, rancid, as if she hadn't washed in months, and the hands that stroked Liu’s face felt grainy.
She whimpered as she spoke, teeth coated in plaque, rotted breath wafting over his face,“You’re a good brother.” That was all the reassurance he needed. His heart swelled with her approval; his mother had finally seen him.
Liu lifted his hands to clasp her wrists and led the woman down the hall back to her room, weary. He could barely comprehend the disarray of the master bedroom. A hoarder's hull now, it smelt like a septic tank and had incoherent sprawling's littered on the walls.
He had nothing to say to this, knowing the woman was beyond reason, and having more urgent matters to attend simply made it hard to care. He simply lay his mother down and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. She closed her sunken eyes, the sharpness of her cheekbones unnatural and jagged, and she smiled softly.
For a moment, that youthful, maternal glow returned to her features and then she was gone. Liu's breath caught in his throat.
Liu shut the door behind him, glancing at Mr. Woods, who sat in his recliner that faced the window next to the front door. His reflection was wavey and indiscernible, but he was undeniably awake—bottles littered the wooden floor around him. Liu ignored the man, heading for the tool storage by the garage entry door.
He could feel the peripheral gaze of his father, continuing to pretend it away. His hands gripped the rusted handle of the shovel, feeling the weight of it, deep green paint chipping off the handle. Liu jiggled the door handle, which had gone stiff from the bitter cold outside.
“And what are you doing, boy?” Mr. Woods spoke, not moving his head from its locked position, bloodshot eyes trained ahead.
Liu continued to pull at the handle, “What are you planning now?” Mr. Woods’ voice was croaky and raw, yet still held its stern an unwavering command over his son.
Liu paused for only a moment, a residual habit formed from fear of his authority, and then he began yanking on the handle roughly. The elder man in the recliner began to laugh, a deep rumbling sound that came from his stomach, guttural.
He rose from his chair, revealing a cigarette on his lips that glimmered in the smoke. In his right hand a half empty bottle and in his left a lighter, his thumb grazing the switch threateningly.
Liu felt sweat bead on his brow, and he began slamming his shoulder into the door in a frantic attempt to dislodge it.
Mr. Woods began to ramble, “What are you, boy? So fearful of the now, you haven’t noticed it’s all gone to guts already! We’re all dead, all dead!” He laughed again, uncontrolled, manic, “What do you fear? It’s all happened already, boy! And you...did...nothing!”
Click. Click-click.
The flame flickered from the lighter, and Mr. Woods grinned as he poured the bottle down his shirt. Horrified, Liu watched in stunned silence as his father self-immolated, catching the hem of his shirt with the flame.
Engulfed by sputtering fire, he collapsed back into the recliner, igniting the remainder of the fluid along the ground and spreading the flame.
He slathered his skin as he burned, laughing choked and wild and raw. His flesh sloughed off from his abrasive kneading, revealing the layers of raw skin, muscle, and viscera beneath. He gargled and screamed in agony, writhing in the burning recliner, succumbing to the flames of his own creation.
Liu screamed, the smell of burning flesh clogging his nose and stinging his eyes. Gasping for air, he grabbed the shovel, wedging the metal in between the door and the wall. He heaved, cracking it open, slamming his shoulder into the heel of the shovel. The door finally gave way with a wicked force, shuddering on its hinges.
Liu fell through the door in his desperate scramble to escape, gagging on the taste of his fathers flesh. He landed on a strange, lumpy heap, cold wetness seeping into his clothes.
He recoiled from the feeling, eyes falling onto the body of a Great Pyrenees underneath him, head blown open and smeared against the porch from the door's force.
Liu staggered to his feet, retching and covered in viscera, clutching the shovel like a shield. He ran. He ran far from the house.
He only looked back once.
The dog's head was a crimson smudge on the porch, orange light flickering from the open door and glistening the gore beneath it.
The surrounding forest was like a siren, luring him deeper and deeper, singing to him, a lullaby and a promise.
Blanketed in the darkness of the thick trees, light struggled to penetrate, time ceasing to exist. Liu fell upon a patch of bare earth, a patch of earth seemingly untouched by nature and human life alike and he knew it must be here.
He knew it in the depths of his stirring soul.
He began to dig. And dig. And dig. A large hole slowly broke through the untouched earth, wider and wider with every desperate shovel.
Night and day passively turned into each other in what felt like an endless tango. A loveless entanglement that Liu felt, a grueling dedication to his atonement.
This was his final reprieve and the only way out now.
Stepping back and dropping the shovel to the soil, Liu gazed down at the pit before him. Deep, open and welcoming, an earthy grave revealed itself to him.
It was perfect, the most perfect thing he’d ever done. It might as well have been the only thing he had ever done, the only accomplishment of his life.
Liu followed the scent of flesh back into the home, passing the charred corpse which lay in the recliner, bottle in hand, facing the window.
He trudged up the stairs, arms shaking with exertion, and opened his bedroom door, discovering it was empty. Void.
Panicked, he gripped the filthy shovel in hand, knuckles white. A distant cry. He paused, listening intently. The sound repeated.
It sounded like his mother.
He followed the noise, softly stepping along the wooden floor to minimize the creaking it produced, cautious of what waited ahead, wielding his shovel like a weapon.
As he drew closer, the sniveling transformed into rampant wailing, punctuated by fits of laughter. The sound was uncontrolled and painful, as if forced upon its inhabitant. The high pitched peals of laughter, so reminiscent of his mothers, then deepened into something guttural and gravelly, morphing and twisting.
No longer did Liu hear his mother. In her place, he heard his father.
Yet it was wrong, manipulated and bastardized as it echoed down the hall.
Then it was him, his own voice echoing back at him in a foul mockery.
He wanted to stop, to run away and never come back, urgency burning in his chest and begging him to run for his fucking life,but he found he just couldn’t.
This was his monster, a monster that was the culmination of every time he turned away, and it held his brother with ferocity, gnashing its teeth and howling.
For as long as it lived, they’d never be free.
Closer now, the upstairs bathroom door creaked on its hinges, open. The cold, clinical light inside illuminated the dark hall. Liu inched forward, breath coming in short gasps.
A dark shape stood under the fluorescent light, bandages forgotten on the ground in a dirty, stained pile. Liu looked at its reflection in the mirror, no discernable features among the blood and bile on its visage. Blood gradually formed a puddle of crimson at the disfigured feet, partially dried and cracking.
Liu couldn’t move, frozen, feet planted beneath him and numb. Yet, he couldn't look away.
Sensing his presence, it turned around, revealing its grotesque form, drooling. In its hand was Randy’s discarded knife, soaked in crimson, fatty liquid.
It stood tall and persistent beneath the flesh of its broken body, unfazed by the corpse it wore. The mouth, the maw. As it spoke, blood and mucus projected outward, splattering the tile and mirror.
“Et lingua ignis est universitas iniquitatis,” It began, jaw swinging uncontrollably as it spoke, “lingua constituitur in membris nostris quae maculat totum...” Trailing off as it spoke, choking on its own blood. The sound of it was diseased, grinding against his psyche, like shredding flesh and sinew with bare hands.
Its mouth was cut open on one side, skin floppy and jagged, exposing teeth and a lolling tongue that struggled to remain in its mandibles.
Liu pleaded, nausea rolling through his stomach, his heart stuttering in his chest fiercely. He begged for the figure to halt, to stop and release his brother. Never before had he laid eyes on something so foul.
Yet it continued, raising the blade to its left cheek, maintaining Liu’s attention as it began sawing the sharp edge back and forth with vigor.
Through the blood it sputtered out, gargling, “Corpus et inflammat rotam nativitatis nostrae inflammata a gehenna!”
Its voice was shrill as it sawed repeatedly, slurred speech slowly erasing any remnants of its former self.
Liu pressed his hands to his ears, face scrunching up, pleads drying up on his lips as the words gave way to pain. Pure, unadulterated agony. Like electricity boiling him alive. He choked on a gasp and tried for his voice.
“Shut up!” He cried, tears mixing with snot and saliva down his face, “Leave him! Leave him and let me bury my brother! Let me put him to rest!”
The body kept repeating the words over and over, degenerating into incompressible garble as it struggled to enunciate through the thick liquid. The body threw its head back, laughing to the sky, and then it buckled over to vomit onto the tile floor, a vile mixture of blood and mucus.
Liu took advantage of the moment, struggling as he forced himself off his knees. He threw himself against the figure, crashing into the wall, crumpling.
He heard a blunt thud and they both tumbled forward. The figure, lethargic, slid down the wall, still gripping the blade in hand, swinging blindly.
Liu wasted no time, grabbing the figure by its remaining hair and using his years of experience hauling dead weight to drag the figure down the stairs. It thumped against each step, leaving a blood trail, eyes dull and previous thrashing ceased.
Liu dragged the monster deep into the forest, over roots and under jutting branches, where its open grave beckoned him to finish this.
Into the hole, the body crumbled onto itself, lifeless eyes staring into nothing.
Liu got to work shoveling the soil into the grave, and as he did so the body released wheezy, taunting laughs. This only spurred him on, who aimed the dirt at its head, hoping to snuff it out.
However, even fully covered, the dirt mound misshapen and hasty, the laughter still penetrated through the earth. Transforming it into a rumbling rattle deep within its chest. He shoveled and shoveled until nothing but dirt remained.
Unmoving and destined to rot, Liu collapsed to his knees over the earth.
He wailed, cries clawing their way out of his throat. He continued until his throat could no longer, digging his hands into the earth and gripping the soil as if he could hold his brother one more time.
The laughter beneath died down and silence fell over the forest; no whistle of the leaves in wind, no chirping of birds, no chirping of crickets.
Life ceased; a flame starved of oxygen, died out unnoticed.
Days had passed before anyone noticed what had happened. Dejected and isolated, the Woods’ family were far forgotten in the local zeitgeist.
It took Jane Goelet working up the courage to confide in her mother for the family to be confronted. With the word of Jeff’s state—incapacitated by circumstance—circulating around town, Jane mustered the ability to speak.
She had gone to Mrs. Goelet and floundered over her words as she recounted her meeting with Jeff. Reasonably horrified and seeking answers, Jane’s mother reported the incident and sent police right to the front door.
Unprepared for what they would come across, the two officers had knocked to no response. It was only when the rookie, who curiously peered through the window, witnessing the remnants inside did they call for backup.
The search revealed the fate of the family.
Mr. Woods sat in a charred and derelict recliner, body burnt beyond recognition to the point that dental work was required to confirm his identity.
Mrs. Woods was discovered upstairs in a room that reeked with the pungent odor of death. Her body was bloated, the cause of death undetermined due to the multitude of injuries. A combination of blunt force trauma and multiple stab wounds, varying in depth and originating from multiple weapons.
Liu was eventually discovered wandering the forest, holding one of the weapons—a shovel—tightly to his chest. The cause of the blunt force trauma was taken by officers, and Liu himself was inconsolable. Delusional, dehydrated, he was taken in, bursting into tears sporadically for indistinct reasons.
He was sedated, transferred for medical attention and held in a private room for questioning. The only person who couldn’t be recovered was Jeff, whose body seemingly disappeared without a trace.
Several weeks were spent searching the forest with no sign of the boy. He was presumed dead, and the investigation promptly closed.
Liu faced court for the deaths of the Woods’ family, but due to lack of evidence he was only charged for the death of Mrs. Woods. With reason of insanity, he was sentenced to seven years, on condition of attending extensive psychological treatment and rehabilitation programs.
Rumors carried by whispers throughout the town, unanswered questions birthed tales wild and unbelievable. Jane herself was left haunted, nights filled with dreams of burnt figures and piglets.
Her mind would wander into the unknown months within the Woods’ home, weaving fables of unimaginable suffering.
The few details she could handle her mother recounting did little to quell her obsession.
Inevitably, the only person that knew Jeff’s fate was gone from the world, as if he never existed at all. Dead or alive, Jeff Woods was no longer.
Epilogue
Randy's first stop was the pub.
Maybe not the brightest choice, but it was something he felt nipping at his heels. He was unsure if it was the idea of drowning his sorrows or if it was the occupant who promised to meet with him.
Either way, he walked hastily across town, stern to ignore the burning looks from those whom he passed. The town this time of year felt desolate, snow and ice coating the ground in a relentless hold. Salt sprinkled the roads and sidewalk, glittering beneath the moon.
Randy’s hands were shoved deep in his pockets, ears and nose pink from the cold air. The pub they agreed on was at the end of town, a hot spot for the town drunks and floozy women.
He strolled through the door, cupping his hands over his mouth and breathing out hot air. He rubbed the cold from his fingers while looking around, until his eyes fell on brown hair.
Troy had his back to the door, fingers gripping a short glass, ice swimming around dark liquor. He hadn’t noticed Randy walking in the door and was watching the bartender—a petite woman with pink stripes in her hair—making cocktails.
If it were some years earlier, Randy may have tried his hands at provoking the pretty girl, but now he felt unsure.
Before, he was untouchable, but now it felt like every move was subject to voyeurs' treatment. He was unsure if the few other inhabitants were actually stealing glances at him, or if it was a product of his newfound paranoia.
He took seat on the open stool next to Troy, tapping the counter twice to beckon the lone woman behind it. The larger boy's attention was grabbed simultaneously, and he was looked up from his glass.
Meeting Randy’s gaze, he nodded, “Hey-” the greeting died in his throat, eyes widening for a moment. Randy knew why and he threw him a tight smile. Diagonally, across his face, from brow to chin, was a large and ugly scar. It healed shabbily, unlike the dog bite, which had healed with minimal remnants thanks to his father. This was inflicted by design to be a visual eyesore.
“Turns out,” Randy began, grabbing the fresh drink that was placed on the counter, “People in juvie don’t really like bullies.” he took a swig, feeling the burn down his throat that settled warmly in his stomach,welcomed in the cold air.
It was true. When word got around about what he’d done, the others had dealt with him. In their vigilante justice, they wished for him to feel what Jeff’s newfound reality was. His time locked up was an isolating and uncomfortable experience.
Troy nodded in understanding and held up two fingers toward the bartender. The two sat in silence for a while, a bittersweet awkwardness. Troy had managed to avoid consequence, confessing what they had done on a plea deal.
Three drinks deep, Randy decided to break the tension, “If you wanted to just get fucked up like old times,” He chuckled, smile not meeting his eyes, “You could’ve just said so.”
“Kieth’s dead.” The words were like a gut punch. Troy was staring intently at his empty glass.
Randy swallowed dryly, “W-what?” He sat upright now, “I thought, I heard he was fine after...”
“It wasn’t that.” Troy cut him off, looking at Randy now, “Someone killed him.”
Randy shook his head.
Dead? That couldn’t be true, no way.
But, undeniably, it was. Keith was dead, murdered in his sleep. Randy’s head fell into his hands, running fingers roughly through his hair. He tapped his glass, calling for a refill.
“Do they...do they know who?” He couldn't finish the sentence, struggling to process reality.
“No.” Troy said bluntly, downing the rest of his drink and nodding to Randy, “So watch your back.”
The implication was overt, the scar on his face tingling as Troy left him, Walking out into the cold darkness of night.
Drink after drink, Randy spent hours in that bar, until final drinks were called.
“Sorry man,” The girl spoke while wiping down the counter, “gotta close up.”
With slurred speech Randy retorted, “Wanna walk me home?”
The girl threw him a disgusted look and pointed to the door, “Get out, Randy.”
She spat, and he grumbled, defeated, putting his jacket on. The dark of night was suffocating, a fully sober man would struggle to navigate it, let alone inebriated as Randy was.
For a moment, he thought he heard footsteps tailing him, but when he turned around, all he could see was an empty road.
Paranoid anew, Randy picked up his step. He pulled out his phone and began calling, watching his surroundings. The call went straight to voicemail.
“This is Troy, can’t answer ya’ right now. Leave a message, or don’t!” Randy shook his head and redialed, feet stumbling as he picked up the pace. Once more, it went straight to voicemail, and once more, Randy redialed.
After the fifth turn to voicemail, he left a message, “If this is a joke, you’re still a weak cunt. Pick up! Seriously!”
He feigned confidence, not wanting to reveal his fear into the dark, as if the façade would fool anything trailing after him.
He was at his front door, struggling with his keys to unlock the door. He panicked when he couldn’t muster up the motor skills to undo the lock. The door opened anyway, Randy’s mom hearing the panic from inside and letting her son inside.
Once inside, he ran to the bathroom, his mom yelling after him. Randy vomited into the toilet, a combination of alcohol and fear spurring him on.
Images of Kieth flashing through his mind, his mom stood at the door with her arms crossed. In her nightgown, she dragged her son to bed, where he promptly passed out.
Troy never called back or answered his phone in the morning. Despite asking around, no one could answer, or cared to answer, about his whereabouts.
As Randy came to realise, most of the town sought to forget about those three. They had crossed some unspoken line in the cruelty, leading to complete societal excommunication.
Wherever Troy was, that was no concern of the townsfolk.
Randy reconciled all this to the bartender for multiple nights, and despite his previous transgressions, she let him ramble. As each day passed, he spent more time at the bar.
One particular night, he had drowned himself to the point of immobility, unable to walk more than a couple feet to and from the bathroom. The bartender staunchly cut him off and all but threw him out the door. On the front steps he sat, occasionally leaning over to expel the contents of his stomach onto the ground.
His head was thumping, and he clutched at it in pain. Randy’s vision was doubled, and he watched as two sets of feet came into his vision. The figure stood for a moment, silent. Randy struggled to focus.
“C’mon Randy,” He heard a raspy, strained voice say above him, “Let's get you to bed.”
The mystery figure hooked an arm under Randy, hoisting him to his feet. Alarm bells sounded in his mind but try as he might, he was subdued by the figure. The two walked off into the forest.
Randy’s slurred protests failed as the two walked further away from civilization. It felt like an unbearable amount of time before they came to a halt. Randy, unable to see clearly, struggled to make sense of what was in front of him.
Until he heard snorting.
Eyes squinting, he stared into the dark pit below and muttered, “Pi-pigs?”
With a rough push, Randy tumbled headfirst into the hole. His face planted into slurry and pig excrement, violating his senses, smothering him.
He lifted his head, holding back what little was left in his stomach, and came face to face with a pig. It was chewing lazily, snorting curiously at the boy. Confused and disgusted, Randy focused on its pink snout, dizzy.
Suddenly, it stopped chewing and spit something out into the mud.
Randy eyed it, squinting. A tooth.
Sobriety rushed like a cold tide through his body when someone dropped down into the hole behind him.
He rolled over onto his back, gazing up. It hovered above him, tall and pale. Despite its disfigured, threatening face and white blood-stained hoodie casting dark shadows, the red head instantly knew who it was. Those eyes, icy and partially clouded now, were unmistakable.
“Jeff?” Randy questioned, voice watery.
Jeff looked at him, mouth cut into a wide smile that bared his teeth. He stepped forward and reflexively, Randy backed up, his back hitting the dirt wall of the pit. Randy whimpered as Jeff got closer, hopelessness settling in his soul.
“Shhh,” He hushed Randy, slowly revealing the bloody knife from the pocket of his hoodie, “Just go to sleep.”
just briefly edited a really old fic of mine. sorry to anyone who read it, i finally graduated college and became fucking literate i guess. what the fuck.
People lay slouched in the chairs, cigarettes burnt low, fingers pulling at grass just to keep the blood flowing.
No one was there by choice.
Not anymore.
They were just waiting for it to end.
Waiting for this unfolding nightmare to be put to rest; to go back inside and enjoy the warmth of the house, or eat unlabelled human organs in the privacy of their own room.
But it wouldn’t. They couldn’t.
Because they’d agreed to it.
And now they were paying the price.
The atmosphere was tense, quiet. The strained squeak of a chair leg only highlighted the unusual silence spilling over the forest.
You shifted in place.
Everyone was attending a garden party.
One held in the dead of night. With a guest list of serial killers, crazed psychopaths, unnatural beings, and a dog, to boot.
It was freezing. It was uncomfortable.
No one wanted to be here, not when the threat of freezing to death lingered like a dense fog.
No one except, that is, for Toby.
Because he was the man of the hour, the king of it all— the organiser of this cursed ensemble. Just an hour before, all attendees were sleeping soundly, tired from a long mission or a tricky day at the house.
Yet Toby had other plans.
The clock had struck 3am. The entrance had flung wide with a deafening ‘thwack’. Toby stood in the centre of it all, causing a ruckus so loud that sleeping dogs could no longer lie in peace.
At the time, you tried to ignore it, tried to nestle further into the bedsheets and push away the craziness happening outside.
Yet it couldn’t be avoided.
Smile was the first to wake, bounding down the grand staircase to greet Toby with a wagging tail and curious sniff.
Jeff soon followed.
After that, all hell broke loose.
You didn’t manage to catch the first part of their conversation. You didn’t want to catch the rest, but it became impossible to drown out.
“W-well, m-man, I d-don’t see why not?!” His voice was raised, defensive.
Jeff hissed, before groaning in annoyance. You threw a pillow over your head. It didn’t help.
“Because it’s a stupid fucking idea, that’s why.” Footsteps followed, then so did the sound of metal grinding against wood. “These chairs look like dogshit anyway!”
…Chairs?... Idea? You sat up in bed, throwing away the pillow before letting out a deep sigh; this could no longer be ignored. Whatever was going on downstairs suddenly became far more interesting than sleep anyway, and with a scoff, you swung your legs over the bedside.
“M-motherf-fucker, d-don’t fucking ins-sult my ch-chairs! I went through a l-lot of e-effort to get those!”
Jeff grinned, as if Toby's words had lit a fire in the room, then handed him a can of gasoline. You didn’t need to see it— it was present in the tone. The rat bastard couldn't help but antagonise every situation he was a part of.
“Don’t insult your chairs? What, they got feelings or somethin’?... They gonna start cryin’ if I call them rusty, no good, god awful, pieces of—”
“Jeff.”
A voice cut through the carnage.
Yours.
It cascaded down the staircase and brought the two bickering men to a halt. Clad in a long shirt and wearing it like armour, you stood tall at the precipice— quiet spilling into the dilapidated foyer, tense and uncertain. As Jeff dropped the chair he was holding, a metallic clang echoed off of the walls.
He glared. “Yeah? Got somethin’ to say?” Then he took a step forward, and If it were at all possible his gaze would have narrowed.
In the meantime you’d descended into the scene of the crime, and surrounding the culprits sat four rusty garden chairs. Looking behind them, an equally grimy table wedged the front door wide open and let in a sharp breeze. The whole scene was disjointed, like something out of a comedy sketch; almost impossible to read at first glance, and requiring you to have seen the past 3 episodes to understand. You hadn’t been privy to those, so instead you directed your attention back to Jeff.
“Yeah, I do,” The words slipped out through a yawn. “Stop being mean to Toby will you? and instead,-” Another yawn, “-tell me what the hell is going on?”
The man scoffed, arms crossing in a firm ‘x’ across his chest. He opened his mouth once more— most likely to spit venom— before Toby interjected, the persistent twitching seemingly having eased at your presence.
“W-well, I found these.” He gestured to the chairs, as if they were something marvellous. A flicker of a smile ghosted across Jeff’s face, noticing how you looked over the furniture in confusion.
”I… see that, Tobes. And… why do you have them?” You gave Jeff a warning glance, one that reflected the words ‘Don’t fucking start’, as much as humanly possible. In response, furrowed eyebrows raised to create an expression— one that was smug, waiting, expecting.
“Stole t-them on a mission. I-I thought we could throw a party outside— one of those, like, g-garden parties, you know?”
You grinned, side eyeing Jeff. What was wrong with that idea? Why the looks? Maybe he was just trying to get under your skin like usual, or vehemently hated the idea of being a community.
“...Oh! Sure, I’ll attend. We could grab some beers from the store, I'll make potato salad, it’ll be fun. When are you thinking?”
You and Toby were pretty close. Close enough, that it was almost always you who felt the brunt of his strange ideas, or impulsive decisions. He let himself run free in your presence, and more often than not, you indulged it with open arms.
Jeff let out a sliver of a laugh.
Toby responded.
“... R-right now.”
Expressions stalled. Thoughts ground to a halt.
He wanted to throw it right now? In the dead of night? In the cold, dark, nightmare ridden forest?
No chance.
You’d be mauled to death by Seed-eater, eviscerated by the rake, or worse, have to spend the whole time with Jeff complaining about the cold. Feet tapped the ground trying to think of an excuse, or a way to let Toby down gently.
Because Jeff was right, this was a stupid idea.
No sooner had the thought crossed your mind, did something sour begin to dwell; something that pooled in the depths of your stomach and settled like a thick venom— something vicious.
Spite.
The feeling festered, no matter how fleeting the moment was; it worked quickly, poisoning every judgement you made with precise accuracy. It only worsened, when you glanced at Jeff.
The bastard was smiling.
Smiling, because he knew you were about to agree with him.
You, whose main objective in this place centered around driving him to the depths of hell— arguing every point he made without reason, getting under his skin when things went awry, poisoning people against him— you.
And the cherry on the cake? You weren’t just about to agree with him—
You were about to prove him right.
This concept was so foreign; if you had to place money on which would come first— the rapture, or Jeff and yourself finding common ground— your bets would be on the rapture. No hesitation. You weren’t about to lose hypothetical money, either— so with a sly grin thrown his way, you turned to Toby.
“Oh, right. Well, we can’t have any beers or food, because there isn’t any, and the store is closed. But, I don’t see why that should stop us. So come on, I’ll help you get the chairs back outside.”
Jeff’s face was a picturesque mix of anger, disbelief, and embarrassment all at once. It was perfect, and you? You lived for it.
Toby smiled, excitement bubbling under his skin as he began pushing at the table almost immediately, trying to un-wedge it. You were, of course, doing this for him too. You weren’t about to let Jeff bully your best friend— no matter how stupid the idea.
Another large yawn echoed off the walls.
“Actually, I'll help in a second. I’m still shrugging off the last of my sleep.”
A lie. You just wanted to watch Jeff unravel in full view.
Toby nodded, groaning with another push to the table.
Your smile remained sweet, ‘genuine’, looking from one man to the other like there wasn’t a problem in the world.
Meanwhile, Jeff fumed.
He wasn’t the type to admit when he’d lost, nevermind accept it with open arms. In any other scenario he’d storm off, throw a calloused insult, then slam the door. He’d retreat. But not with you. Never, with you. Because you worked so hard, so damn hard, to bring out the worst in him; to take his fury and set it to a boil, all while wearing that damned innocent smile.
“Oh fuck you! You bitch. You really wanna go outside and play tea parties? Right fuckin’ now?” He laughed, callous, raising his arms with a grin. “Just fuckin’ fess up already, doll, you think it’s a stupid idea too. Admit it, come on, I know you want to”
With that said, it wasn’t as if he was guilt free. He forced your hand many a time— deep rooted insults, petty theft, ‘harmless’ pranks, often curating his own torture as a result— but the blame was never on his shoulders.
An emotionless stare was thrown his way, as if the mere act of paying attention to him was a cruel punishment. It was then followed by a phrase, and a grin.
“Admit what, Jeff?”
Then Jeff stalled, his anger festering even further. He could’ve kept it contained, too, if you hadn’t paired the words with that smug expression.
With that smile.
That damned smile.
After that, he lost all composure. The man was stepping closer now, pointing angered fingers and almost frothing at the mouth. Meanwhile Smile stood up beside him, his teeth bared and growling, mirroring his owner perfectly.
“That you’re lying. Fuck– you know damn well what i’m talking about. You’re just sayin’ that, you’re not agreeing just because—fuck— you fuckin-’,”
He cut off the mismatched sentence, taking a deep breath.
God, it was so easy to get under his skin.
Your response was the opposite: calm, composed, and soft.
“There’s nothing to admit. I just think we all need a break, and it could be a nice way to let off steam. I get along with the others, and it’s a lovely idea from Toby. So no, I'm not just saying that. I genuinely don’t see a problem here!”
You paired the phrase with an evil grin, knowing exactly what it would do to him— knowing that even though he had clocked half of your motivations perfectly, he could do nothing to prove it. Each insult lay hidden, laced perfectly between feigned ignorance and wove a tapestry only he would understand.
Even when he let out a low hum, clenching his fist tight, you still persisted.
You still pushed further.
For Toby, and yourself.
“Well, no problem other than you I suppose. No one wants to spend that much time around you, Jeff, no offence and all. But I'll put up with it, for Toby. I’m kind like that, you know?”
Truth be told, you didn’t even know why Toby himself wanted to throw this party; usually, he was standoffish to most other inhabitants, only really talking to them to relay orders or bark commands. Unless they were his friend, he purposely hid much of his bubbly personality around them, a hard lesson he came to learn many years ago. If you had to guess, it was nothing to do with the people attending, and more to do with the chairs serving a purpose.
But that didn’t matter. What did matter, was forcing Jeff into a situation he’d do anything to avoid, whilst still having your friend’s back.
Jeff was breathing deeply now, trying to hold on to any semblance of his temper. The venom tripled, forcing out a line that would make the man crumble.
“And, look, If I have to put up with a giant man child for a few hours to make my best friend happy? Then so be it.”
Although he was still in a fight with the table, Toby grinned at your words, chuckling softly.
And that was all it took for Jeff to snap.
To no-one’s surprise, the both of you ended up in an explosive and heated argument— so loud, in fact, that if Toby hadn’t woken everyone up with his earlier racket, they were definitely awake now.
That point proved to be true, as at the end of this horrible debate, the whole house stood divided on two opposing sides of the foyer.
The chairs remained in the centre.
Majority voting was the way this house worked. Although it was full of people who never even obeyed the law, the inhabitants strangely obeyed this one rule:
The majority vote is final.
They’d figured out long ago that nothing would get done if they continued to work solo, and none of them denied the fact that they were selfish, either. So this system, as flawed as it was, worked; at some point, everyone would get something out of it. They didn’t have to vote fairly— put biases aside, rationalise,— they just had to vote. The deciding factor could be as arbitrary as someone forgetting to take out the trash.
The state of this vote was troubling, however. It was a perfect split, directly down the middle, completely equal on both sides.
Jeff smirked, eyes locked intently on your form with a gaze that rivalled a burning pyre.
You started to think you’d lose, that the vote would be called a draw, that you’d have to backpedal and seek revenge another day.
That is, until Eyeless Jack entered the fray.
Your smile returned, as your rivals fell.
You delivered him organs last week—
unprompted, and free of charge.
Wearing a blank expression, he calmly walked to your side of the room.
Jeff scoffed.
And then, it was decided.
Everyone was having a garden party.
-
So there you were. Planted In the grass, shivering from the cold, and wondering whether your win against Jeff was even worth it.
Masky stood with his back turned, looking out into the forest whilst smoking a cigarette. Hoodie lingered alongside him, the two somehow silently communicating with subtle head shakes and glances.
Jack sat hunched on the grass opposite, showing nothing but a neutral expression.
Nina and Jane perched beside you on the chairs, nattering quietly about a new ‘pop figure’ coming out soon.
Clockwork lingered nearby, sharpening her knife.
Toby lounged across two chairs, using one as a footrest and gazing at the sky.
Smile slept in the centre.
Ben was texting.
And he was sitting right next to Jeff.
Who for the past thirty minutes, had been scowling at you in total silence. He sat upon one of the seats, elbows leant on his bouncing knees, fingers clasped together, eyes burning a hole through your skull. Maybe he was trying to explode your mind with his; the act wouldn’t be unusual. It was as if he were begging for you to react, to respond, to lash out at him and tell him to stop staring.
But you didn’t.
The act was instead countered with a grin.
A soft smile.
One that made Jeff tremble with rage.
Someone broke the stillness after that, evidently noticing the red-hot staring contest occurring around them despite the icy temperature.
“Hey. Tell me again, why are we out here?”
Ben spoke up, barely looking away from the phone glued to his hand.
“Because, I’m cold. And I don’t even get cold– I’m dead. So can we wrap this up, like soon? Cause, I got more interesting shit to do than this.”
The leaves rustled as if they had a response, crashing against howling winds which slithered between each tree.
Toby went to argue, before Masky turned his head, interrupting.
“No.”
His mask, lifted ever so slightly to expose flesh, glowed orange as a deep drag was pulled from his cigarette.
“Majority vote. We’re seeing it through.”
The masked man’s gaze lingered, daring Ben to respond and throwing down an imaginary gauntlet.
Yet it wasn’t him who spoke up next.
“I mean, It is pretty chilly out here. You know, like, maybe, we can change it? Or something? I know I voted for this, but, um…”
Nina. Her voice was wavering, the cold seeping through her flashy clothing and freezing down to the bone.
Jane continued the girl's sentence, picking up where she left off.
“What she means is this. We’re not opposing the vote, or questioning our stance on the matter,” She eyed Jeff, taking a shuddery breath. “But we want to reschedule. Because I know I’m not alone in feeling like my fingers are about to drop off.”
The air tightened.
She was right, she wasn’t alone—
Almost everyone let out an agreement, a nod, a hum, a scoff.
Fingertips blue, nose red, lips chapped, you let out a frost ridden breath too.
It was the middle of winter.
And you’d all been sitting out here for an hour and a half.
Masky hesitated, eyes glazing over in deep thought, the cigarette surging to life once more and providing a dull light. It seemed the man required nicotine to even breathe, let alone think. After a brief pause though the lifeline slipped from his lips and fell, crumpled underneath his boot.
Then the mask readjusted.
“Not how this works. We’re out here until Toby says it’s done.” His voice dripped with authority, each word punching through the air like a molten fist.
“---um, hello? we’ll freeze?! And—and the Rake? And Seed-eater? What about them?”
Nina again.
She was right. Those monsters lurked in the shadows, waiting for the perfect time to strike— and when they did? You’d never see it coming. They would be on their way soon.
If they weren’t here already.
As Nina’s concerns fell on deaf ears, a small sense of guilt began to blossom, flourishing the more you looked around the garden.
People were shivering.
People were cold.
People were hungry.
People were angry.
You weren’t just getting glares from Jeff anymore.
Jack now wore an expression of annoyance, his body tense and breathing labored.
Jane trembled, refusing to look at you, refusing to blame you, even though anger simmered beneath her skin.
Clockwork nestled into her coat, breaths fogging the cold air.
Masky glowered as his gaze flicked between Jeff, and you.
Hoodie sighed.
Ben glanced up from the phone, his eyes hardening.
Jeff remained the same.
Locked in his thoughts and seemingly having phantom arguments in his mind, the man barely paid attention to the world around him. That was, until he noticed the concern etched deeply into every wrinkle, the worry lining your lips, the fear clouding your eyes; the sight was relieving, like ice on a sizzling burn.
He smirked, his lips mouthing a silent phrase dripping with conceit.
“You. Lost.”
He was right.
You had.
Even though bile simmered like acid and venom seeped into every pore— he was right.
You’d lost.
Because you were ending this.
Whilst Toby had the final say, it wouldn’t take much to persuade him. All you had to do was admit you were cold, admit you were done, and that you needed to go back inside.
All you needed to do was admit Jeff was right, all along.
Everyone knew this fact too, their sly glares and pleading glances reflecting it well. It wasn’t a secret that you were close with Toby, that you had a sway over his occasional bullheadedness. Nor was it a secret that you had a deep hatred for Jeff.
It didn’t take much to connect the dots.
So, the longer time passed, the more resentment began to fester.
With a final tight lipped grin in Jeff’s direction, a voice slipped out from behind gritted, chattering teeth.
“Hey, Toby…?”
His head snapped over, ripped from a deep daydream with the stars above.
Trembling from both frustration and the cold, you closed your eyes in resignation.
“I think—”
The words got trapped in motion, as Toby launched from his seat and accidentally hurled the ‘footrest’ in the process. Then, following a grin that reached the eyes—
He became your hero.
“H-hold on a minute–” The man raised a gloved palm. “G-got something t-to say f-first.”
A harsh twitch of the left hand.
If someone knew him—really, knew him— they’d know that was his tell.
So If Toby ever wished to take up gambling as a hobby, you’d pull him out of the casino by his hair and scold him for being so stupid. Because every time a white lie escaped those damaged lips, his left hand almost always followed suit.
He spoke again.
“T-this was not as f-fun as I thought i-it would b-be.”
You raised an eyebrow, mouth falling open slightly as frozen air raced its way inside your lungs.
“L-lets head back inside.” He turned, stomping a mud crusted boot on top of the chair discarded by momentum, then puffed out his chest.
“I h-hereby, e-end this g-garden party. So s-sorry everyone! G-guess I got bored.”
And then, In the dim light, illuminated only by the small camping torch placed in the centre, you saw it.
He winked.
A faint gesture, veiled by the dim light and obscured by the tint of his goggles, meant for nobody except yourself.
You could’ve kissed him.
You could’ve run over to him, thrown your popsicle arms around his torso, and tackled him to the ground— showering him in friendly affection.
But you didn’t. Toby kept his motives quiet for a reason: to protect you from a loss in front of your rival.
So instead, with a real grin, you stood from the grass, dusted off icy speckles of dirt, and sighed.
“Alright, Toby. Well, thank you for-
“No, no, come on, tell us bitch, what were you gonna say?”
Eyes flung to Jeff, the man standing tall and huffing deeply as he paced towards his opponent.
You opened your mouth to speak, but didn’t get a chance; the sentence hung stagnant in the air, interrupted by another.
Masky held a firm hand on the man’s chest, glaring down with a stare so inhuman, it should’ve belonged to a wolf.
“Leave it. Get the fuck inside.” He growled, shoving Jeff backwards before pacing towards the house, grabbing your best friend by the hood.
“And you? You’re coming with me. We’re gonna have a little chat about what’s fucking appropriate, around here.”
While Toby was dragged away, with growls, punches, and phrases like ‘g-get the f-fuck off m-me!’, being yelled out into the wilderness for no-one to hear, you grimaced.
You’ll have to make it up to him later.
You had the power to stop this event from happening; the ability to prevent this punishment and nip it in the bud before it had a chance to flourish.
But you didn’t.
And the reason why? Stared deeply into your soul, eyes burning and raging with a fury so unrivalled, it could’ve raised the temperature enough to make the winter months masquerade as summer ones.
And while each inhabitant trekked their way back inside, taking off boots kissed with frost, breathing hot air into each hand, there you both stood.
In the frozen wasteland.
Snarling and grinning.
Even Jeff’s scars, wounds carved many years ago to form a twisted smile, gravitated to the ground from the hatred coursing through his veins.
Then, calloused, scarred, pale fingers flexed around something hidden beneath fabric. Jeff’s eyes darted to the door; he scanned the walls of the mansion, flicking across each window before finally focusing on one.
The second highest in the place, hanging just below the bosses— one which looked out onto the forest, but was too far up to see anything going on in the leaf littered undergrowth.
That one.
The one that belonged to his keeper:
Masky.
Although Jeff hated to admit it, deep down in blackened the depths of his soul, lay an undercurrent of fear— one which swept through him on days where the self righteousness keeping his head attached took a day off. One which kept him chained to this place, forever drowning, taking order after order.
The being that resided within the highest floor was the overarching cause— but Masky? Was only one level below him. Physically, and metaphorically.
He’d already been warned once.
A second time only entailed darkness.
Eyes darted back to your own, fingers and muscles tensing when they took in the sight of you once more.
In your nightshirt.
Alone.
Smiling.
Then something in his eyes… changed.
In turn the expression you wore proudly faltered, and in its place, lay fear.
It was time to wrap things up.
See, there was a line with Jeff. One that you don’t cross, one that you never even toe, unless you want to wind up dead in a ditch somewhere with nothing left but teeth to identify you.
You were approaching that line.
Fast.
The only thing keeping him tethered, was the threat that window held, and the reins the person behind it wound tightly around their weathered fist.
But that only went so far, didn’t it?
This was Jeff, after all.
He’d cut free before. Broken out of the chains, let himself loose— but then returned with his tail between his legs. Other times, his misdoings had gone undetected, and the tales of said moments lay buried with those who experienced them.
You tried to fight the nerves. Tried to keep up the charade, even as his hoodie pocket shifted with his fist, highlighting the shape of a weapon.
But no part of you forgot what he was, deep down.
A monster.
One much greater, and much scarier, than anything you could ever come close to rivalling.
However, as you turned to go back inside, moving frozen limbs in a mechanical dance towards the door, something simmered. It lurched its tentacles to your mind once more, pushing down the fear one final time; fighting every adrenal instinct and crying out in a last stand.
Spite.
Maybe you assumed you were safe.
That you hadn’t gotten as close as you thought, that there was still breathing room for a final, lasting, remark.
One look back.
Two words.
Three mistakes.
“I. Won.”
The light in Masky’s room flicked to life.
The light in Jeff’s eyes faded to a dull grey.
And that was all it took.
In an instant, he lurched forwards, grasping your wrist in a bruising grip.
You didn't even have the luxury of time to react as he stalked towards the edge of the garden, his strides quick and powerful, only looking back to revel in your fear. And revel he did, for when wide, terrified eyes met his own, it only filled him with the urge to continue; the urge to push further, just as you had so many times before.
He didn’t say anything.
Only dragged your body as if it was a corpse, one that fought against him with every ounce of strength it had left.
You didn’t say anything, either. Words were trapped, caged, by the element of surprise.
He turned his steely gaze ahead once more, stepping into the forest and pulling you through with a harsh tug.
“Keep that silence for me, bitch. I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word.”
A low whisper.
Unfortunately for him though, Jeff never got what he wanted, for his words seemed to jolt you back to the present; the reminder of who you were rippling through each and every inch of your body.
“Jeff! The fuck are you d-”
A hand, cold, rough, stifled the words penetrating dead air. Meanwhile, a blade, sharpened and wanting, found its way to soft flesh, resting firmly atop it. The tree was next— it’s harsh bark colliding with the thin cotton of your night-shirt, trapping you.
“I said, be fucking quiet. You an idiot? You wanna be fuckin’ mauled?” He hissed.
A slow shake of the head. Narrowed eyes.
“Thought so.” He looked around then, eyes dancing in the darkness for signs of life. After a tense moment, hot breath graced your ear, trickling down your neck and prickling every hair in its wake. “So shut the fuck up. You’ll have plenty of time to scream once we get there. But do us both a fuckin’ favour, and be quiet for now, got it?”
A sinister smirk.
A nod.
A palpitation.
Then a shiver of disgust.
He moved his hands, leading a now silent, but resisting corpse further into the dense woodland. All the while, you begged to ignore the feeling; to overlook the way your heart rate increased the moment he neared, put aside the fact your chest instinctively leant towards his as if it was born to do so. You pleaded with a phantom god, to tune out the faint sense of desire born only from a single spark.
Because it was wrong.
Because you were scared.
Because you hated him.
Even more so as he tugged your arm harshly, a low hum of satisfaction leaving his mouth in a muted tone.
You refused to acknowledge it any further.
Instead, eagle eyes scanned the surroundings, watching for any sense of movement that was out of the ordinary.
Jeff stalked ahead, your wrist clasped tightly between his fingers with a stinging grip, tugging as if you were a dog on a leash.
You had a good idea of where he was taking you.
The safe house.
Nestled deep in the centre of the woods, this place was a refuge for those caught in this treacherous landscape after the sun had escaped into the horizon; a place to hide out until morning from the hellish monsters that prowled beyond its doors. This was the intended purpose, of course, but it was used for other things too:
When people wanted to be alone,
When people wanted to talk without having eavesdroppers,
When people wanted to fight,
When people wanted to fuck.
You swallowed, almost tripping over a thick root.
Jeff spent a lot of his time in the little cabin, mostly when things had gotten too much back at the house, or he had landed himself in a messy situation with the higher ups. From your place on the second floor, which looked out into the thick forest, it was often you caught him stalking out into the dreadful environment, whiskey bottle in hand.
You grilled him about it.
Countless times.
Asked him why, why he went there alone to drown his sorrows, why he skulked off in the middle of the night.
He obviously refused to answer.
But you had a feeling.
A feeling then, and a feeling now—
You were going to find out.
You were right.
The cabin emerged slowly out of the thicket, surrounded by bushels of leaves.
Jeff, wasting no time, paced towards it, hauling your body up the decaying steps and onto the decking.
Then, with one large push, the door flung open.
A shove had you staggering inside.
He followed,
turned,
then bolted the door shut.
And there you both stood, treading water in an ocean of darkness, broken only by sporadic rays of moonlight dripping through the clouded, dusty windows.
One foot tread backwards, mirrored by one stepping forward.
Hearts raced. Pulses quickened. A mirror of reactions, yet both for different reasons.
“J-Jeff. What the fuck are you doing?”
You didn’t know whether it was the cold, finally managing to get through to an adrenalised body, or the terror, coursing through each vein and rooting you to the ground—- but the words came out stuttered. Forced. Scared.
He only chuckled.
“Something I should’ve done a long fuckin’ time ago.”
The floorboards creaked.
Further away to where you last remembered Jeff standing.
“…Masky will find out, you know. They all will. And Toby… Toby won’t forgive you.”
Picking out which feeling was most overwhelming became impossible. Thoughts raced, emotions ranged, flipping between fear, anger, resentment… and something else.
Jeff hesitated. Another long creak echoed against the wooden walls, his next step drawn out, as if to haunt you further.
“You don’t think I thought of that?” He smiled; It was audible. “There’s a fuckin’ reason I waited until Mr.Perfect was in his room.”
“What?’
A ruthless growl of a laugh.
“You think he pays any attention to the shit going on outside, when he’s away in his room of personal torture? Nah-“
Another step forwards.
Another creak.
He was close now.
“The guy’s too wrapped up in self pity. Drowning in bottles of pills, looking over photo albums, you know— that sorta stuff. Wouldn’t even occur to him to look outside. Not when he’s alone.”
You shrunk away, feet hitting the opposing wall with a thunk.
You were trapped.
Cornered.
Alone.
And all at once the realisation dawned,
This was why Jeff liked the cabin.
Because It was isolated.
Quiet.
Hidden.
The idea of anyone coming to the rescue, slipped away with the howling winds.
“And, Toby?…”
A knife shot out, splitting the wood beside your head as it brought with it your aggressor, hand strained around the hilt. On the opposite side, his nails dug into the panels.
“Now, who the fuck is gonna tell him, princess?’
The knife was retrieved with ease, and instead traversed the length of the wall, before resting underneath your chin.
Jeff tilted it upright, forcing you to look at him.
Spit turned to ash.
You couldn’t see him. But he made sure you knew he was there.
Looking down. Enjoying it.
“Well? Come on, use your words, who?”
“… Fuck you.”
The words ran free before you could stop them. And with a short grunt, he pressed the tip of the knife further into your skin.
“Don’t fuckin’ start.” A drawn out sigh. “Fine. Since you’re too fuckin’ stupid to string a damn sentence together, I’ll answer for you.”
He leant closer then, chest pressed against chest with a suffocating force, lips gracing your ear.
“No one. Not me, and sure as shit, not you. No one will tell him. No one… will ever fuckin’ know.”
His breath lingered in short, sporadic pants. It was as if he still held back a monster, one that beat mercilessly upon his castle walls and yowled before the gates.
One he was failing to contain.
Jeff’s fingers trembled around the hilt of the knife.
What followed was a moment of quiet. A silent pause in the charged atmosphere, where the creaks and groans of the outside world seemed nothing more than an exit melody.
Thoughts once cast out by adrenaline cut through once again, unfortunately taking refuge in the stillness.
You fought them.
Because they were wrong.
Because it was him—
And he was about to kill you.
Fighting could’ve worked, if you’d had a weapon. But left forgotten on the night shelf, your knife remained a taunting reminder of the fact you’d rushed outside without a second thought— save for one.
The thought of embarrassing Jeff.
And look at all the good that it did you now.
You couldn’t take him without a weapon, either; In one on one combat, he beat you every time— and he had an advantage.
It was over.
You were going to die.
You swallowed, the knife’s edge moving as your jaw hardened.
The faint flame of desire, the one that trembled in the winds of his closeness, grew brighter. It swallowed the initial match, almost burning down to the pale fingertips which held it.
You put it aside.
“I fucking hate you.”
He smiled, retreating slightly, only to run his cold fingertips through your hair. Then in one swift motion he grabbed a fistful, eliciting a sharp whine. Jeff chuckled lowly, a sound more akin to a growl than a laugh.
“Good. Because I fuckin’ hate you too.”
Your sudden twisted smile met him in a standoff. Fight or flight, you supposed.
“So, so what’s your plan, huh? Kill me, leave my body outside, tell the others I’d been eaten by seed-eater? Lie and say you were too far away to help? Or is that excuse too overused by now? Whatever it is, fucking hurry up and get on with it.”
Jeff’s hand retreated, instead finding your wrist and pressing it against the wood.
With one sentence, everything changed.
“Who said anything about killing?”
His breathing, rugged and unkempt, slowed; his words once controlled and calm, sounded staggered and strained.
“…what?”
There it was again. That silence. That pressure.
The match, now burnt entirely, still held a flame; It simmered for a while longer, before the hand that held it tight let go.
And from there it fell into a pit.
A pit filled with years of stockpiled fuel, waiting for something to ignite it.
A pit filled with venom.
In a mere moment everything caught alight, creating a blaze so intense it took over every thought and feeling. It controlled each action, like you were a puppet on a string.
With your one free hand, you threw it around Jeff’s neck and dragged him close, lips crashing into his with a starved hunger. He groaned before dropping his knife in surprise, deciding instead to rest a callous hand around your neck.
He pushed you back, smiling as you both took in a breath.
“Turns out you’re not as fuckin’ stupid as you look.”
It was an insult. But you didn’t care. Thoughts had long escaped you, now all that remained was hatred and desire, mixed into a perfect cocktail.
“Yeah?” You hummed.
“Yeah.” He replied.
A beat of silence followed.
Then, as if no time had passed, his lips met yours once more.
He hummed between gasps, strong hands feeling around your waist, lifting you from the ground and pushing you further against the wall. Legs then curled around his abdomen instinctively, a stark heat boiling in your core.
“Don’t get it twisted. I still-“ a gasp followed, as he bit down on your lip. “-I still fucking hate you.”
You felt the grin as it crept upon his face.
“Good. You should. Wanna know why?” ***
His body shook as he tore away from you, chuckling whilst you dropped to the floor.
Wincing, glaring, eyes holding a feverish hunger, you responded.
“Why?”
He crouched low, retrieving the knife that had clattered to the ground in surprise, then brought it to your chin.
“Because… you’re not off the fuckin’ hook just yet.”
Blood raced through each vein. Meanwhile, Jeff moved closer, his calloused hands finding their way underneath your thin nightshirt and coming to rest on your underwear. With a soft but firm caress, he had your legs trembling.
“What do you mean off the hoo-“
A weaponised hand clasped over your mouth, whilst the other pressed firmly on your clit.
“You think that because you’re gonna open your pretty legs for me, I’ll let you off, just like that? You really think your pussy is good enough for that, bitch?”
Eyes pleading, chest heaving, you whimpered.
You fucking whimpered.
Because everything within you had been turned on its head.
He laughed in response, callous, cold, cruel, before freeing your mouth.
Then with a snarl, he cut away your underwear.
The cold air was a shock as it hit your pussy, now slick with your own arousal. But Jeff wasted no time in letting his hand explore it, his other dropping the knife and slithering up to tangle in messy strands of hair.
“No. It’s not good enough.” He grinned, leaning closer. “But it sure as shit makes it easier to forgive.” You glared at him, body tensing as you tried to fight the embarrassment. His next sentence did nothing to alleviate it, either. ”Jesus you’re fuckin’ soaked.” He purred, fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your messy cunt. “And you’re supposed to hate me. How fuckin’ embarrassing.”
“S-shut the fuck up” You whined, angry, humiliated, twitching.
He merely scoffed, grinning at your words and leaning close, hot breath leaving shivers in its wake.
“Watch your fuckin’ tone.”
You eyed him. Body betraying each hateful thought with a jolt, only furthering your want for more.
“Here’s how it’s gonna work, sweetheart.”
His hand slowly trailed towards your entrance, bringing your slick with it.
“I’m going to teach you a lesson,” He teased then, keeping a thumb trained on your clit whilst letting two fingers caress your folds. Hands gripped his hoodie, body shuddering.
“I’m gonna show you exactly how it feels,” A sharp breath. A whine. Fingers barely slipping into your warmth. “When you fuck with me. When you drive me to the damn edge,” His grip on your hair tightened, only amplifying the desperate need for him to go deeper. “And then fuckin’ smile about it.”
Your warmth takes his fingers to the hilt.
And as he begins to move, harsh and rough, you become a moaning, whining, mess; the pleasure was overwhelming, even from just his hands working in tandem. Then came the bites, fierce, harsh, unforgiving, leaving teeth marks trickling with blood. You could do nothing more than cry into the chest of his hoodie whilst he cradled you on the ground, lurching over you like a predator feasting on its hard earned prey.
“You should be counting yourself lucky” He growled, his voice low, sadistic, enjoying every second of your unravelment.
“A lot of fuckers have done way less,” he let out a shaky huff, his own arousal culminating in his jeans, amplified by the slick coating his fingertips. “And come out of it way worse.”
The words elicited a spike of fear, yet that only amplified the experience.
Your self control was long gone. Your body thrummed with excitement, grinding into his fingers and milking them for all their worth.
He laughed, releasing his grip on your scalp to grope harshly at your clothed tits. “So I guess being a whore worked out, huh?”
Deep down, a part of you wanted to lash out at him, to spit in his face, to tell him to go fuck himself— all because he called you a whore.
But you couldn’t.
Because you enjoyed it far too much.
As soon as the words left his mouth, your back arched, moans catching in your throat and turning into nothing but silence. In turn, his hands moved faster, desperate, frantic, forcing an orgasm to the surface quicker than anyone could have imagined.
He grinned. “Really? That fast? Pathetic”
He increased the already mind numbing pace. Nails reached up, digging into his neck, and with a growl he shook them off. The pressure suddenly building within was too much to bear, so overwhelming and begging to be let out.
“Jeff, wait, I’m-“
“you’re…? Go on, say it. I wanna hear it. Beg me, and I might let you.”
Your face flushes red, heart pounding in your chest as the moans become too fast and frantic to be consistent.
“Please, I’m going to come, please let me co-“
Then everything stopped.
His fingers retreated.
His body moved away.
And what they left behind, was a trembling pathetic mess shuddering on the floor of the cabin. Gasps, stuttered words, sounds of confusion, all escaped your mouth within a matter of seconds as you grasped at him.
Jeff started to laugh, before uttering a lone phrase.
‘You to take me to the fuckin’ edge… and then smile about it.”
His laugh continued. Even as you pushed against him, angry fists beating down on his chest but garnering no reaction at all, he cackled.
Then in an instant, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Hands grasped at your throat, and as you struggled to breathe, pussy throbbing from the lack of touch, he leant close.
“That’s, what it fuckin’ feels like,”
He let you gasp for air a moment longer.
“When you’re a bitch. I want you to remember this, every fuckin time you decide to test me. Every time you say something, do something, cause something, and then smile— remember this moment. Got it babe?”
A frantic nod. Gasps for air. A low hum.
“Good. Now stand the fuck up.”
You stood, choking, gulping down oxygen like a lunatic.
Jeff stumbled somewhere in the darkness, obviously knowing the layout by heart, before a beam of light finally battled against the shadows. A small camping torch sat on the nearby table, silhouetting Jeff as he faced it. The table creaked as the man turned around, then leant against the wood.
“Come h-…”
Jeff hesitated for a moment, drinking in the sight of you bathed in low light, desperate, wanting, broken. It fuelled the fire in him; the very same fire that had brought you both here in the first place. His cock throbbed with want, with need. Jeff turned away from you again, barely managing to contain himself.
“C’mere, now.” He spat.
But you didn’t listen. Instead, your eyes remained glued to something highlighted by the blue tinge of the camping torch.
His knife. Laid forgotten on the ground.
Eyes floated towards Jeff slowly as you moved.
Then his appearance fully took hold; he looked as freaky as he normally did, sure— but the way his back rose and fell, the trembling of his hand, the sweat gracing his neck, his strained grunts— all painted a picture of something so desirable that it only cemented your want for him.
But this was not going to happen in the way he pictured.
Not now,
Not after that.
You didn’t know where the new-found confidence came from—- whether it was the frustration of a denied orgasm, or the false confidence of obtaining a weapon, or maybe you just remembered who you were.
You weren’t some helpless girl, who bowed to his every whim. You were here for a reason. You lived here, for a reason.
He was a monster, sure. A terrifying one, at that.
But so were you.
“Hey, are you fuckin’ listening? I said come here. Don’t make me fuckin’ ask-“
The words were cut off. Trapped, by the feeling of his own knife pressed harshly against his neck. Your words came next, whispered over his shoulder, hot breath just gracing his ear.
“I’ve got a better idea.”
He shuddered. He could get out of this, he thought—- but not without damage; not without ending up in Jack’s care. He’d win, but at what cost?
Not to mention part of him wanted to see where this went, where your little attack would lead.
His cock strained against his jeans, the material clinging to his legs and almost suffocating him.
The man raised his pale hands, slowly.
“What the fuck are you doing.” He stated, low, shuddery.
You smirk, knees trembling with anticipation, heart racing.
“You’re not the only one here, who has fucking issues.” You press the knife harder into his neck before continuing. “You’ve shown me how you feel, now it’s my turn to show you.”
Jeff paused, his hands lowering, shoulders slumping as breaths escaped in quick succession.
He could end this. He could. He was far stronger than you.
But he didn’t want to.
Because he couldn’t deny the ache in his groin that was growing more and more pertinent by the second; the way it throbbed, leaking with excitement. He couldn’t deny the way his heart rate has spiked, nor the way his fingers flexed in anticipation.
He couldn’t ignore the fact he still wanted you.
Like this.
He’d let the scene play out for now, pride battling with internal instincts that screamed for him to be the one on top—- for him to be the one with power. But he’d let you get your way, then take back control when you were least expecting it.
Atleast, that’s what he told himself.
“Lie down.” You spat, ripping him from an internal monologue.
He smiled then, letting out a nervous hum of laughter.
Your eyes, heavy with lust, stalked him as he retreated from the table, steadily treading over to the tattered couch nearby— all the while, you kept his knife trained against skin. Your core throbbed, wanting, begging for more, needing to be touched once again; the feeling only worsening when he sat down, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed a deep red.
You kept the knife still, yet hopped effortlessly over the back of the couch, crawling over to his lap. You said nothing. Instead, simply straddled his thighs with your own, pressing the weapon harder into his skin as you neared.
“Take them off, Jeff.”
The man stalled. His heart raced. His expression faltered, but slowly, nervously, he shifted. Lifting you up with ease as you sat on his hips, he shuffled down his Jeans and freed his length, before resting on the couch again.
He should’ve had something to say. Something to bite back against your tone. But nothing was coming to mind.
He only stared at you.
With a mixture of awe, and absolute hatred. Admiration and arousal; disdain and frustration.
“Now.” You uttered, tracing your free hand down his face, watching his expressions react to the touch. Meanwhile, slowly, you shifted, hovering over the bare length which almost reached his navel. Gently you ground against it, liquid arousal coating it entirely as his back arched in response—- calloused hands grasping at the cushions beside him with a groan.
“Here’s how it’s going to work”
The words were a mockery of his, and with a cruel smile, you brought a cold thumb to his lips, jutting it inside and capturing his jaw between your fingertips. His eyes grew wide as you kept his lips parted.
His inner conflict spiralled.
He’ll take back control soon, right?
Because he fucking hated you, as much as you hated him.
He wanted to destroy you.
So why was he continuing to let you steal the power from him?
You pulled him close by his Jaw.
“I’m going to show you,” You ground hard against his length then, eliciting a shuddery moan, and panting gasps. The feeling was immense, overwhelming, and after a soft series of breaths, you spoke again.“I’m going to show you exactly why I hate you. Why I grew to hate you.” You grinned, letting go of his jaw and capturing him in a rough kiss, hand flying to tangled strands of hair and grabbing them in a fistful.
He whined into it.
Jeff the fucking killer, whined into your kiss.
You couldn’t hide the grin that jumped into your features after the soft noise escaped his lips.
He couldn’t hide the shame he felt, his anger bubbling beneath the surface, subdued by a want for more. His hand reached out, grasping your hips with an inhuman strength— then pushed you down further against cock, his hips jutting, swallows strained.
You pulled back, grasping his cheeks in a firm grip.
“You don’t move until I fucking tell you to move, got it?”
He stared, wide eyed.
His emotions failed to make sense; he wanted to kill you—- now more than ever.
But instead, he nodded.
You smirked, yet your own heat was becoming equally as overwhelming. With a shuddery breath, you raised from his hips, lining him against your entrance.
But you wouldn’t let him inside. Not yet.
Not until he begged.
You lingered there.
“When you first arrived here,” You begin pushing down slightly, as his chest jerks. “I wanted nothing more than to get along with you. Remember that?”
This time Jeff actually had something to say.
”Yeah, you were pathetic. Even brought me a damn-“ He interrupts himself with a sharp gasp, followed by a whimper. You’d shifted away slightly. It worked in getting him to shut up.
His face crumples, beet red.
”Yeah. It was. And you only made it worse.” Your own legs were failing you now, begging to give in, begging to lower yourself and chase a much needed release. But you persisted, your slick pooling on him. Your breath hitched. “You never stopped. You took my kindness, and you tortured me with it, forever harassing me, never giving up,” You grabbed a fistful of his hoodie, bringing him near. “And do you remember what you said, Jeff? When I came to talk to you about it. When I wanted it all to stop.”
Jeff swallowed. His dick twitched.
He did.
The implication of it hit him no sooner, knowing what was about to happen. His face twisted into what can only be described as pure dread.
He struggled, yet you kept him caged with one flick of your hips.
“You said that I needed to beg. To get down on the floor, and beg. Beg for you to stop.”
Jeff shook his head, his chest heaving.
He couldn’t beg. He wouldn’t beg.
But when you let go of his hoodie, letting a hand fall beneath your legs to appease the lewd need for him, he caved.
He didn’t know why. But he caved.
“S-so.” You grinned, letting breathy moans escape into the tense atmosphere.
“Beg. Beg, and I’ll sit down.”
His response was quick. It surprised even him, as the words left his lips without so much as a second thought.
“God fuckin’ dammit, please, sit down, holy fuck-“
“Louder.” You interrupted him, a sadistic chuckle paired with the phrase. “Fucking scream it.”
His voice, choked up, followed soon after— much louder than last time.
“S-sit the fuck down, please, I’m damn fuckin’ beggin’, god, sit the fuck down. Plea-“
And with a devilish grin, you finally obliged, his thick girth sinking into your warmth and trapping any sense of sound escaping the man’s lips.
It was damn near euphoric.
The two of you let out shuddery whines, gasps, your free hand falling to his chest as your grasp around the knife trembled. Jeff was still almost silent, the only noise present in the short gasps that escaped his lips; he could feel everything, the way you clenched around him, the way your legs shook, the way your head rolled back as you began to move. The man clasped his weathered hands to your hips, letting out an almost disbelieving whine after each bounce.
Meanwhile, you were losing control. After every rock forwards, each harsh slap of your ass against his thighs, each time his dick hit that sweet spot over and over and over again— your will to keep your head held high was beginning to falter. So much so that after a short while you leaned forwards, threading a hand down to your clit as you rocked against him. Then you rested your head against his. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he lifted a trembling hand, running it through your hair and grasping it tightly.
“H-hey, bitch,” He uttered, his throat letting out a low groan. “Your little act is starting to slip.” Although the growing urge to submit to your whims remained—confusingly—- in tact, one fact proved true:
This was Jeff.
And you were never going to have him under complete control.
Not in a million years.
His psyche just couldn’t handle it.
The defiant words were paired with a low chuckle. His hazy eyes scanned your face for a response, an indication that he was in trouble, but he found nothing. Nothing, except that is, for a weak point.
You were already losing yourself.
You should’ve grabbed him by his hair, whispered in his ear that if he ever spoke out of turn again? You’d stop. But instead:
“F-fuck you,”
The words were bitter. Intertwined between moans which only became louder, hips which only moved faster.
As if awakened by the phrase, something started to creep up on Jeff, something that had been temporarily subdued by his need to be inside you so desperately.
Anger.
Fuelled by the words that were spoken to him, the position he was in, the way you made him act, even for a short time.
The way you made him feel weak.
He’d given up control voluntarily, sure— but enough was enough.
He gripped your thigh with one hand, teeth gritted and breaths escaping in rugged gasps, then used all of his force to thrust up into you; his other still tangled deeply in strands of hair. Your grip on the knife loosened, as a knot in the pit of your stomach began to tighten, an unbearable heat brimming at the surface.
You tried to regain control at least a little— pressing your free hand to his chest, but he merely fought through it, forcing you to give in. The man continued to relentlessly abuse your insides, grinning as he felt the knife loosen from his throat, tumbling to the ground and clattering against the wooden panels.
He figured he’d let you finish this time.
And you did. Coming so hard against him that it left your body a trembling, shaking mess— slick pooling on his stomach as your thighs clenched around his, head aimed at the sky. He grinned, watching you with heavy lidded eyes, his sinister intent surging the moment you came down from your high.
You lifted your hands to your face, taking deep breaths.
Then paused.
Slowly, you lowered them, staring at the man beneath you— realising something.
You’d dropped the knife.
He grinned.
In an instant, he lifted you from his thighs, cock slipping out of you and hitting his stomach with a slap. Then he carried you towards the table, throwing you down against it with a clatter and grabbing a fistful of hair, pulling your face up to meet his.
“Playtime’s fuckin’ over.”
He didn’t take long to line up again, and you— too fucked out and swimming in a post orgasm haze— did nothing to fight him. Not even when he grabbed an arm, twisting it behind your back and holding it there, whilst burying himself to the hilt.
The pace wasn’t soft, gentle, no, the moment he felt you clench around him, it was full speed ahead; animalistic grunts, curses under his breath, like a feral monster chasing nothing but his own release. It didn’t take long before your body writhed underneath him; it took every thrust with a sharp moan, raised its legs to hook around the backs of his thighs, surged with excitement.
Your rational thought had been cast to the wind. Because the feeling was more than overwhelming.
It was almost addictive.
He dropped your hair then, in favour of slapping your ass, and before you knew that familiar tension began to build; he seemed to notice, almost cackling as he belted out a laugh.
“Hates me so much, but wants to come twice on my cock? Startin’ to think you’re full of shit, whore.”
He matched it with another deep thrust, grunting as he grabbed your hip with a free hand, the other still pressing you firmly into the table.
You said nothing, only glancing at him with clouded eyes, mouth open wide and gasping for air.
He grinned.
“Beg.”
The word slipped out through staggered breaths. Yet were too fucked out to acknowledge them.
“Beg.” He spat, firmer, matching it with a harsh smack.
You did just that.
You begged for him to let you finish, screaming his name over, and over, and over, free-hand grasping at the panels of the table.
He snarled, satisfied.
“Cum then, slut.”
Then, for the second time, you were coming— and all he could do was laugh. Laugh as you shook, as you milked against his cock as it drove into you, as you gasped for air. He soon stopped; twitching as you rode through your high, shuddering when he felt himself nearing his own release. He let go of your wrist to grip you by the back of the neck, pulling you upright then hooked an arm around it in a chokehold.
Your eyes rolled, letting out sharp, desperate, whines as he grasped at your tits.
“Fuck,” Jeff rasped, groaning into your shoulder before biting down harshly.
You cried out.
Only for it to send Jeff completely over the edge, his body tensing, his arm flexing and choking out any form of air. His hips jutted to chase his fleeting orgasm, as he filled you in entirety, the hot liquid already escaping down your thighs.
You both remained for a moment, his arms loosened, his chin rested by your neck.
A heart beat passed.
Breaths slowed to a halt.
Then, the air was still.
The gravity of what you had just done hit you both like a ten tonne truck, mowing over any sense of life in the room.
It only brought with it a thick sense of dread.
Jeff was the first to move. Silent, hesitant, pulling out of you with a crude ‘pop’ before treading over to the couch. Clothing shuffled as he grabbed his jeans from the ground.
You had yet to shift, eyes glassy and clouded over, staring at a distant point on the wall; even though your lips spoke, it’s as if you weren’t even saying the words.
“Nobody hears about this Jeff.” You swallow. “No-one.”
A moment of silence passes, before Jeff responds.
“Yeah, I know. Not one fuckin’ soul.”
-
Over the next week, everyone could tell something had changed.
The house was now eerily quiet; the violent arguments that once adorned its halls in excess now simply ceased to exist. There were still chitters, still disagreements, still conversations which got loud—- but they weren’t one sided screaming matches. They weren’t altercations which ended in one party being dragged off screaming, whilst the other stood there smiling.
They weren’t between you and Jeff.
Toby was the first to notice something was up, and you had expected no less from him.
It started with the subtleties; First, you couldn’t give him a straight answer on what took you so long to get inside that night. Second, every time Jeff passed by in the hall, Toby looked at you expectantly, faltering when the man passed you both without a hitch on multiple occasions. Third, the moment you sat amongst Jeff and the others at the dining table a few days later; not a single foul word was said between either of you.
It all came to a head, when Jeff took your seat on the couch.
Toby knew the perpetrator was in for a rough time then; witnessing time and time again the passive aggressive, sweet-sounding, psychological remarks that would roll off your tongue in quick succession whenever it had happened before.
Yet,
When you entered the room…
Jeff moved.
He said nothing. He rose from his seat, cleared his throat, then sat somewhere else.
You didn’t acknowledge him either. Instead, you flopped down into the seat that was previously being kept warm, then closed your eyes.
And that is what alerted the others.
That’s when they knew for sure, something had changed— but nobody could figure out exactly what. Hushed conversations followed your form everywhere, hiding behind closed doors and happening when they thought nobody could hear.
“Those two confuse me, Jane. One minute they’re at each other's throats, the next? They’re strangers.”
”Maybe they came to an agreement, Jack. Or maybe they got bored of tormenting each other. As you know, Nina and I had a feud with him for many years, and after a while, the aggression became exhausting. That doesn’t mean their feelings have lessened, though. Ours haven’t.”
Each time you heard their twisted theories, it only made the fear of being found out fester; only made your ears hypersensitive to the sound of whispers. Your heart stopped the time Ben hit the nail on the head.
”Maybe they hate fucked. I dunno. I’ve seen it works.”
“No, y-you’ve ‘seen’, it works, in f-fucking p-porn. It d-doesn’t work like t-that in r-reality.”
Luckily, he’s a known pervert, so nobody took him seriously.
Toby pulled you aside on every free moment he had, to poke holes in your lies. But you wouldn’t let up, no matter how hard he tried.
Besides, by the time he’d even gotten to that stage, you’d long since figured out an alibi.
“I don’t know where Jeff went, why would I care? I went to the safe house, I needed some time alone. When I got there, I fell asleep after getting cosy. Then, I came back.”
You heard through the grape-vine that Jeff said he went for a walk; he could fend for himself in the woods, so the excuse was plausible. You hadn’t spoken to him about it directly though, In fact, you hadn’t spoken to him at all since that night—-
Until now.
A lit cigarette dances between your fingertips, blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders, as you sit on a garden chair.
Jeff leans back into a different seat, fingers tapping away at the metal as smoke curls into his mouth.
An empty pack of Marlboro reds lies discarded nearby.
You’d come out here to smoke, to get away from the whispers that wouldn’t cease inside the house.
He’d come out here before you, to stare at the sky.
And now, after sharing the last pack of cigs you own over brief small talk, you sit here, silently.
Together.
The quiet lingers for a good while. The trees groan in discontent.
Then, Jeff stands.
He tosses an extinguished cig to the ground.
He rolls his shoulders.
Then slowly walks to the edge of the forest…
and stops.
He turns his head.
You meet his gaze, the blanket slowly falling from your shoulders as you come to a stand.
You see, throughout this past week, there has been something else happening in your mind; a realisation.
You hate the stares, the theories, the whispers— the fear of being found out.
But not…
Jeff.
Because since that night, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him; fingers delve between your thighs each time you get into bed, imagining it happening all over again, frame by frame.
Notes: Reader is a useless little horndog sorry. There's a few paragraphs that could be interpreted as dubcon but I make it expressly clear that she consents. I watched Scream again a couple days ago and this was the result eheheh. Also I didn't edit this so like, sorry if it's rough.
Wordcount: 3.8k
Minors DNI! (I'm serious, ageless blogs will be blocked)
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
You were home alone. At least, you thought you were.
An old horror movie was playing on your T.V. The killer had just been unmasked, his white shirt drenched in his own blood, dark hair falling over his eyes. He cleaned the red fluid from his hand, slowly sliding his finger out from between his lips.
Your own fingers brushed against the space between your legs, over your pajama pants, lightly pressing into the soft, covered flesh. You were teasing out a growing heat with every push against your sensitive nerves.
The killer on your screen dragged the blade of his knife down the heroine’s chest. The flat metal glinted as it slowly made its way down her sternum, threatening to split her flesh. He barked orders at the girl with a wide, cocky grin.
You slipped two fingers under your waistband. The sensation of skin on your lower abdomen sent a shudder through your stomach and down to your pussy, which pulsed impatiently. Your hand trailed down and parted your lips, gently placing two fingers right above your clit. “Mmph~” You bit back a moan at the zap of pleasure.
The killer on your screen was raving, storming from room to room, tearing up cushions and knocking over tables. The girl had escaped, and he was after her like a hungry dog chasing its prey. You fantasized that this fictional man would bring that same ferocity to your bed, shoving your face into the pillows, slamming into you without regard for anything but his own animalistic desires.
Your two fingers rubbed the slick skin above your hole in circles, rolling the warm nub of sparks between them. You hitched your legs up and allowed your fingers further down, coating them in the warm fluid that escaped your entrance.
The killer outside your window was watching this, cock in hand. Hidden in the moonless night, you couldn’t see him if you looked right out your window, but he could see every inch of you bathed in the glow of your bedside lamp. He saw the flutter of your hand beneath the flannel, thumping up and down, and tried to match his own strokes with it. He saw what you were getting yourself off to; knives, blood, and murder. It took all of his self-control not to climb through that window and fulfill all of these fantasies you clearly had.
The movie killer had found his victim, slamming her into a wall with a grip on her neck. Your own hand floated up to your throat, wrapping around it. A soft gasp escaped your lips and your eyes rolled back into your head. Jeff wanted to show you what it really felt like when it was someone else’s hand; when there was real force behind it. You made a soft, whining sound in your desperation, that almost sounded like a plea, and the last of his restraint chipped away.
Your phone rang.
You paused your movie with a groan and pulled your hand out of your pants, wiping it on the fabric quickly. “Hello?” You answered as you picked up.
“Hiya, sunshine.” The man’s voice was husky and low.
“What can I do for you?”
A raspy chuckle came through the line. “What can you do for me, huh? You seem eager to please.” Those last words came out in a slow, mocking hiss, and you could hear the grin in his voice.
A blush spread across your cheeks and you fumbled over your words. “Wh- Ah, no, I meant-”
“Well, you could start by telling me what you’re wearing.”
“Um…” Flustered, you couldn’t even manage a sentence. Silence filled the call for a moment.
“What’s wrong, sunshine, don’t want to play?” His rumbling voice caused a wave of heat to sweep across your neck and ears. Your neglected clit was buzzing for attention.
“P-pajama pants… And a T-shirt.” You squeaked out. You felt humiliated having admitted this to a stranger on the phone, but your heart was racing.
“Good girl,” the man purred, and your pussy clenched. Your lip trembled as you closed your eyes and tilted your head back. “Why don’t you take those pants off, though.”
You considered what you were doing for a moment; following perverted orders from a strange man on the phone. Waves of heat and desire washed over your body, clouding your brain, begging you to be obedient. You ached to plunge your hand back in between your thighs and give your sore cunt some friction. There’s no harm in playing along, you thought. You shimmied your pants down and off your legs, tossing them to your floor. “Ok,” you breathed, “I did it.”
“Hmm,” a pleased hum. “Now, are you in the mood for another game?”
Your breath hitched in anticipation. “What is it?”
“If I guess what color underwear you’re wearing correctly, you have to give me a reward,” Jeff said into the phone, staring right at you.
You pulled your now-bare legs up to your chest nervously. “What kind of reward?”
“Nuh-uh, sunshine. I’ll tell you the reward after I earn it.”
I could always just say no if it’s something freaky, you rationalized. But you decided to make it harder on him. You slid your panties off and dropped them next to your pants. The cool rush of air against your exposed skin caused goosebumps to rise across your thighs. Have fun guessing colors, you thought. “Ok.”
Jeff had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. What was that, he thought, an attempt to outsmart me? He almost felt bad for having you play a game that was so clearly rigged against you. Almost, but not quite, because he knew that deep down, you wanted to lose; to be at a stranger’s mercy. “Hmm,” he grinned. “Someone like you? Someone who would actually spend their time talking to some creep on the phone, desperate for something to get off to? You’re such a dirty little slut, I bet you’re not wearing any at all.”
A pang of shame shot through you, and your hand flew down to your pussy, unable to wait another minute. “Aahn~” An embarrassing whine escaped your throat, and a whole new wave of humiliation hit you as soon as you realized he heard it.
“God, are you masturbating right now?” A broken laugh rang over the phone. “How pathetic are you? I was right. You are just a filthy, needy whore.”
“Mm… Stop…” you whimpered, face red and tears pricking your eyes. But the fingers pumping in and out of your hole told him that you were drinking up every remark. The pad of your palm rubbed against your clit with every thrust as your fingers hooked into the soft, fleshy wall inside of you, pressing against your g-spot. You knew that your breaths were coming in shallow and fast, reverberating through the phone, but you were beyond being self-conscious now.
“No, you stop.” The man’s voice suddenly became urgent. “Remove your hand.”
You froze and did as you were told with a squeak, mourning the pressure you had built up that was now dissipating. Your clitoris throbbed at the lack of promised release. “P-please,” you stuttered pathetically.
“I got the question right, didn’t I? So it’s time for my reward.”
“Anything,” you said. You rubbed your thighs together, desperately grasping at any ounce of friction.
“Open your window.”
Your heart shot up to your throat and your head snapped to your window. “What?”
“Open. Your. Window.” He slowly enunciated every word.
“Who are you?” You sat up. It was hard to think. His words gave you a jolt, but it still felt like there was a condensed ball of flames in your lower stomach.
“Oh no, sunshine” he laughed, “you’ll never get to know that. You see your sleeping mask on your nightstand?”
You tore your eyes from the window for a moment to grab the mask off your table before returning your gaze to it. “Mhmm.”
Jeff spoke with as much honey as his damaged voice could manage. “You are either going to put that on and come open the window, or I’m going to hang up and end this whole game.”
You stared at the crumpled mask in your fist, heart hammering against your ribcage. What could happen? The thought of a stranger climbing through your window and pinning you down, filling you up and speaking in his low, gruff voice right into your ear… A cord wound itself in your abdomen and tugged you out of your bed. Feeling almost as if you weren’t in control of your own body, you pulled the mask over your eyes and shuffled to your window by memory alone, unlocking it and pushing it open before taking a few steps back.
You stood there for a few agonizing seconds as nothing happened. No sound, no movement, just the cool night breeze gliding across your tingling skin. You dipped your head for a moment as you realized that this could have been a prank. How likely was it that some stranger would have your address and phone number? Then, there was a shuffle of denim and a thud of feet dropping onto the floor. You could feel his presence in front of you. You reached your arms out blindly, trying to find him, but were only met with air before his own hand caught your chin. He tilted your head up and spoke. “You look so much prettier without that pane of glass between us.” His low, gravelly voice was even more alluring without the haze of static on your phone.
The floor beneath you felt like it was falling away and your legs wobbled. You opened your mouth, searching for words, but couldn’t find any. His scent filled the space between the two of you; whiskey, cigarettes and… copper? You longed to pull off your blindfold and get a look at the man in front of you, but you didn’t know what would happen if you disobeyed him. His thumb traced the line of your jaw before retreating from you altogether. Without intending to, you leaned forward in an effort to keep his hand on you.
“Horror movies, huh?” You felt the air stir as the stranger whisked past you. There was the soft squeak of springs as he took his seat on the edge of your bed.
“What?” You turned, trying to face him despite not being able to see.
“You’re watching horror movies to get off,” he laughed. “You must really be a freak.” You lowered your head and hugged your torso. A gust blew in from the open window behind you, sending cold air between your legs and reminding you that you were standing half naked. You suddenly felt very small, imagining his eyes on your flesh, like a mouse backed into a corner. “Come here.” His low voice interrupted your thoughts.
With weak legs, you took a few steps to your bed, bumping your knee into his. You gingerly reached out again, your fingers brushing against long, sleek hair. His hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it down onto his shoulder. “Straddle me.”
You obeyed, climbing onto him the best you could, going by feeling alone. His rough jeans rubbed against your thighs. The sensation of your legs being spread apart by his own sent a shiver up your spine. You hovered slightly above his lap, conscious of the mess between your legs.
Without warning, his fingers slid between your lips. You let out a shocked yelp at the sudden touch. Your head lolled forward, falling into the crook of his neck as your body folded. “Jesus, sunshine. Look at how fucking wet you are,” he hissed into your ear. His fingers slid into your hole with ease, rough and thick. Your arms fell from his shoulders, wrapping around his neck, and another embarrassing moan rang from your throat. He hooked his fingers, pressing them into the warm wall of flesh inside of you. Your mind was blank and fuzzy, all of your senses numb except for the pleasure building at his fingertips. Your clit felt like a live wire, every brush of his palm against it sending shocks through your stomach. You were panting and mewling into his ear, your hips grinding down into his hand, trying to match his thrusts.
“Are you close?” He asked.
“Mhmm.” You nodded your head yes, unable to form any actual words.
“How close?”
“I-I’m about to-” Your words were cut short as he quickly removed his fingers from you. You hissed at the sudden lack of touch, teetering on the brink of an orgasm. Your hips bucked down reflexively, frantic for anything to rub against. Jeff opened his legs so that you couldn’t use them, spreading yours further apart and causing you to lose your balance, your upper body crashing against his completely. You rutted against the air to no avail, curses spilling from your lips and tears welling in your eyes.
“Aw, sweetheart, did you think you were the only one getting any attention tonight?” There was the sound of a zipper and a rustle of fabric beneath your shaking body. You understood immediately, and it only spurred you on more. You were flooded with shame, unable to stop your hips spastically and pitifully humping against nothing at all, melting atop this cool and collected stranger. The urge to cry in embarrassment was overshadowed only by the urge for release.
“Stop moving,” the man commanded. “You look like a fucking dog with no self control.” You tensed your body, trying to be still, but tremors still reverberated throughout you. “Are you a dog?” He grabbed a fist of your hair and pulled your face up to his, firm but not yanking. “Are you just a horny little bitch?” You wailed in response, mouth hanging open, unable to even think of forming a sentence. This was almost too much. There was a beat, your legs quivering and on fire, but no longer moving, before he spoke again, voice low. “I asked you a question.”
Oh my god. He actually expected you to answer him. You felt so vulnerable, not even knowing what he looked like. You heard the sound of a drop hitting the floor beneath you and your face crumpled into a pout. You were literally dripping. “Y-yes.” You eeked out.
“Yes what?”
You groaned. This was mortifying, but you needed him to keep touching you. “Yes I’m just a… h-horny little bitch…” You whispered.
“What? I can’t hear you if you whisper, sunshine.”
The tears spilled from your eyes and you swallowed a lump in your throat. “I’m just a horny little bitch,” you stated clearly.
You were rewarded with something stiff and thick smacking against your pubic bone. You gasped as Jeff pulled you closer to him, closing his legs. “That’s my good girl,” he said, leaning back. He took his cock and ran the tip of it between your lips, teasing it back and forth slowly. Once again, you were accumulating pressure, and after two incomplete attempts in the last hour, it only took seconds to bring your sensitive cunt back to the precipice. “Do you know what good girls get?” He positioned himself right at your entrance, pressing in slightly, threatening to breach into you.
“Hahh~?” Your voice came out in a thin, shrill tone. It took all of your restraint not to grind down and plunge him into you.
He whipped his cock up and out of your heat, grazing against your engorged clit. You grit your teeth and sucked in air. “You get to rub yourself against me.” He pulled you down so that your pussy was pressed against the shaft of his cock. You shuddered.
“I-I thought-” you mumbled.
“Hmm?” His cock twitched against you.
“I thought…”
“Oh, did you think I was going to fuck you?” He let out a cruel, hoarse cackle. “Oh, you really are a little slut, aren’t you?” You flushed, and your body jerked against his, relishing in the friction. “I’ll tell you what, sunshine. Since you’ve been such a good girl for me, if you keep rubbing against me like a needy, mindless little fucktoy, and making those cute little noises, and begging me to put my cock in you, I’ll think about it.”
Your body responded to his words, rocking against him desperately. “P-please,” you sputtered. The slick flesh of your cunt slid against him, over and over, covering his dick in the warm, messy fluids you were secreting. A tiny amount of it pooled in the dips of his hip bones as his cock periodically pulsed up onto you. You swore you could hear him let out a sigh as you rubbed up and down the length of him.
“Is that all? I’m gonna need more than that, sunshine,” he encouraged. His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh.
“P-p-please f-fuck me…” Your clit was on fire but your pussy was aching to be filled. “P-please put your c-cock in me.” Your hands tangled into his hair as your body rolled back and forth like an angry tide. “Please… Please fill m-me up.” Something snapped in your stomach and you realized with a jolt that you were beyond the point of return. Your pleas shifted. “Please let me cum. Please. Please. Please I need- Please!” You begged with urgency.
“Cum,” the man ordered, and the knot of heat in your stomach shattered. Waves of pleasure and relief washed over your body, down to the tips of your toes. Your head fell back and you released a long, faltering note. You collapsed against the man, your body trembling with aftershocks as your sensitive clit still pressed against his throbbing cock.
Jeff pushed you to the side and onto your bed with a growl, his cocky facade slipping. In a moment he was on top of you, pinning your legs up, again pressing his cock against your tender entrance. “Do you still want me to fill you up?”
You didn’t know if you could handle more after that, but god, did you want to try. “Mhmm,” you nodded, blindly reaching to wrap your arms around him. You wheezed as he slammed into you, his sheer girth stretching you open, giving you no time to get accustomed to him. There wasn’t a moment to catch your breath as he craned over you, pounding into you again and again, rubbing the sore walls of your cunt. The glow of your last orgasm had barely begun to fade before the same heat was building in your stomach. Your clit began to sting with any brush against it, the amount of stimulation morphing the pleasure into a sharp, dizzying pain. You cried out, more tears slipping down your face, but despite this, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, demanding more.
You clung to him with all of your limbs while your headboard repeatedly smacked against the wall behind you. Your face was buried into the crook of his neck, eyes rolling back into your head. He muttered curses into your ear. You could do nothing but wail against the unrelenting barrage of sensation you were receiving.
Jeff lifted himself up slightly, and you looked up, realizing the mask had been pushed up and off of your eyes. You could see him, his white hoodie, his black hair, and that ghoulish cut-up smile of his. You recognized him instantly, fear shooting through your body and mixing in your stomach with the orgasm that was building.
His eyes were glazed with lust, but snapped up when he realized you were looking at him. He didn’t hesitate at the look of horror on your face, plastering a grin on his own as he continued fucking you into the bed.
“What’s wrong, sunshine? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He cooed, pinning your arms above your head with one hand.
Despite your understanding, you were barely able to form a thought, pain and pleasure clouding over any rational part of your brain. The heat in your stomach was threatening to burst. “You-... You’re…”
“I’m what?” With his other hand, he stroked the side of your face, laughing at how you flinched and leaned into it at the same time. “I’m the best lay you’ve ever had?”
“Jeff,” you mumbled. “I’ve seen… on the news…” You felt like a puppet, unable to think or protest against the man whose cock was pumping in and out of you, stirring your insides and turning you into a useless, mindless doll. There was no strength in your limbs, except for your legs which refused to loosen their grip around the man’s hips, pulling him deeper into you.
“Aw, and I thought we were having so much fun… Do you want me to stop?” With that, he suddenly pulled out of you and sat completely still.
Your body responded before your mind could, desperately trying to reel him back in. “No~” you moaned involuntarily. Your legs struggled to pull him towards you, your pussy clamping down on nothing at the sudden emptiness. Your pinned arms struggled weakly against his own, trying to reach for him, grab him, anything.
He looked down at you with cold, smiling eyes. “Tell me you want it.”
“I need it,” you breathed.
“That’s all I want to hear, baby.” At once he was back inside of you, immersing your entire body in a blanket of ecstasy. Your hips ground upwards against him, not wanting to give him a chance to leave again. After a few more thrusts, you came.
This time, there was no breaking, just ripples of euphoria that rolled through you. You let out a whining sigh. The walls of your cunt squeezed around his throbbing cock and he groaned. With one last push, he laid his head against yours and his hips stuttered. A hoarse moan escaped from his own throat as he spilled into you.
You laid like that for a moment, both of you utterly spent. His cock occasionally twitched in you, keeping his seed from leaking out. You could barely open your heavy eyelids, and your limbs felt like jelly. You took deep breaths, inhaling the scent of cigarettes and shampoo that clung to his hair.
Finally, he pulled out of you. You barely held on to consciousness as he shuffled around your room, pulling his pants back on. He leaned in close to your ear and purred, “whenever you want to see me again, just leave your window open.” With that, he pulled your sleeping mask back down, over your eyes, and left you unmoving on your bed, his cum dripping between your legs. You considered it while drifting off to sleep. In fact, you thought, I’ll probably rarely ever close it again.
i love you vampire themed media i love you metaphor for queerness i love you blood aesthetic i love you gothic architecture i love you coffin beds i love you cross necklaces i love you canine teeth i love you intimacy hidden in violence i love you vampires
jacobvanloon
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
