Jeff 7 years later: Difference between revisions

 

Jeff stirred. It was near pitch black. He vaguely smelled a smoldering, musty smell. He felt like he hadn’t smelled anything but blood for so long now. Something about that bloody smell brought him a high that was like nothing else. After all these years, maybe he had conditioned himself to go into hysterics when he smelled it.

Jeff was sleeping in a tattered, abandoned bed in an abandoned building in New York. Now that he could smell things other than blood, he felt overwhelmed. That constant high he had felt for so long had suddenly waned, and now all he wanted to do was vomit. He vaguely recalls the day before.

 

 

Jeff gleefully stabbed his knife through the old man’s gut in the alleyway. He laughed as he once again said “go to sleep!” How many times had he said it now?

“I’m not going to sleep! I’m going to be dead!” the old man said in hysterics.He crumpled to the ground, wildly grabbing at his intestines as they began to protrude from the hole in his gut. He desperately used what energy he had left to crawl back from Jeff. But it wasn’t long until he backed into a wall. Jeff grinned with glee. Should he let his victim bleed out? Or should he finish the job? But before Jeff could decide, he suddenly felt an incredible force against his body. A car ripped through the alleyway and ploughed right into Jeff. In just a brief moment, Jeff flew through the alley and slammed his head and back into the alley wall.

“I thought I was invincible” He thought to himself. But his body had gone limp and slumped down, hitting the ground with a ferocious crack.

 

 

The woman grabbed Jeff’s slumped body by the shoulders and shook him madly, slamming his head against the wall. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!” the woman screamed. “WHY DO THIS?! WHY DO THIS?!” She continued to bellow and shriek as she shook him furiously. Jeff’s first instinct was to stab her too, but all he could do was lie there, his paralysed body still in shock. He had to do something to react. He tried to say what he had said so many times, but only managed an incoherent muffled ‘goh too… sleehhh”

“WE DIE!” She shrieked. “WE DIE.”

The woman finally stopped shaking him as she heard the old man groan again. Jeff watched, slumped against the wall, his head and body battered. The woman lay the man on is side as she furiously pulled out a bandage and began wrapping his gut up. By the time she was done, the man’s groans had stopped and he had gone silent.

Jeff had never stayed this long with his victims before. It was strange feeling. The woman began weeping as she desperately listened for a breath from the old man. Jeff watched her turn him on his back and begin CPR, desperately pushing her hands against his chest to simulate his heart.

 

Jeff watched the woman do this for what felt like hours. In between, she would fumble with her mobile on the 911 emergency hotline. She explained that the old man had no ID and was probably homeless. The emergency told her he wouldn’t have the money or insurance, and said “he’s just a bum. Let him go.” Eventually, she was hung up on. After what felt like hours of her compressing his chest and giving him breaths, she slumped over his lifeless body, exhausted.

 

Jeffrey turned over in the musty bed. He felt his face, his white pasty skin was completely hair-free. He had always thought it looked cool. Normally this was the time of night he’d go out and find his next victim. But at this point, the police had been watching him murder people for years now. And lately, they had been getting very good at predicting where he would strike next. The “Jeff Unit” task force was already investigating the murder and the crashed car from last night. He was still in searing agony from being hit by the car anyway. And his vision still was seeing stars from his head trauma. “Why are you doing this?” He found himself repeating. Why was he doing this? Immediately, he thought of his old bullies Randy, Keith and Troy. They wrecked his face. He hates them so much.

 

He didn’t want to be kind. But he also didn’t want to go murder strangers right now. He was just done. He was tired of murdering people. He had never thought he’d live to see his 20th birthday yesterday. He’d long assumed he’d have been shot and killed by police by now.

Jeff walked out with a pamphlet, leaving the shopkeeper breathing a sigh of relief as he left..

 

“My team and I will do the best we can.”

 

He smiled as he handed me a mirror. He seemed relatively pleased with the results.

 

I dropped the mirror as I clutched my head. The voices roared in my head. I took a deep breath and waited. I did not act upon this intense urge. Even thinking about the smell of blood made me feel like vomiting.

“Sir, are you alright?” the doctor asked, checking my pulse.

The yells in my head slowly turned to loud voices, then those voices slowly turned to whispers. Whispers I didn’t have to pay as much attention to. I could think a little more clearly.

 

Eventually, I took my head out of my hands and looked at the doctor. “.... Thank you.”

 

 

 

The soup was coming to boil. The kitchen smelled meaty and like spilled gravy.. It was a relentlessly cold night in Canada and I had been on my shift for hours. I saw that Bill was snoring at the counter. I noticed a few beggars were gingerly entering the door, seemingly uncertain of our kitchen. Bill hadn’t slept much last night.

I didn’t like to talk much. Nothing I’d said for the past 7 years had felt like it’d done anything but lead to people being hurt. But I would talk when I absolutely needed to.

I can never undo everything I’ve done in the past. And I can never be redeemed for who I was. But in my new life, I’m going to try while I can to make people a little less miserable. I don’t claim what I’m doing is morally “good” or “bad.” I’m doing this now because it lets me feel at peace. And now, that’s enough for me.

 

Yes. Yes it is. Have a nice day.