Jeff 7 years later: Difference between revisions
m
no edit summary
mNo edit summary |
mNo edit summary |
||
Line 55:
You want to look like -that?-” the doctor pointed at the old picture Jeff had gave him. It was a picture of him on his 13th birthday. “Sir, this is a boy.”
“I know!” Jeff snapped. “What would he look like at 20? Make me that!”The doctor studied the photo, then looked up at Jeff. He seemed to be realizing just how long Jeff had a burnt white face. “.. Sir, I’ve only seen 1st degree burns as bad as yours two other times in my 30 year plastic surgery history” the doctor said. Despite Jeff’s anger and frustration, the doctor remained calm.▼
“I know!” Jeff snapped. “What would he look like at 20? Make me that!”
▲
'''Many hours later:'''
“Okay, you can open your eyes”
Light streamed into my vision as the bandages were peeled from my eyes.
The doctor seemed calm. As though he’d seen this sort of thing lots. His record says he’s been doing plastic surgery to burn victms for over 30 years so I guess this is normal for him. I thought I would always look terrifying to everyone. I traced my fingers along where my bloody scarred lip and cheek used to be. When I had decided
He smiled as he handed me a mirror. He seemed relatively pleased with the results.
My skin was no longer bleachy white but I instead my skin looked more flesh-colored. Just more pale than most people. There was a bit of a plastic look to it but at least I no longer looked like a kabuki dancer. They even had tried to re-do my eyelashes. I felt a mixture of anger, relief, and calm. I didn’t know how to feel, but I couldn’t stop looking at myself in the mirror. I felt real.I spent a few moments transfixed to the alien looking back at me in the mirror. I had eyebrows, a nose, and my mouth looked plasticky, but I actually had lips again. With pale skin covering my old acts of self-mutilation.The voice at the back of my head suddenly spoke up like a roaring yell. “No police will recognise you now! Now you can sneak up and kill anyone you want again! No one knows who you are!”
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 shakedly looked
The doctor extended a hand to me. I slowly and hesitantly brought a hand up to meet his hand. This was the first hand I had shaken in 7 years. It felt kind of nice.
Line 77 ⟶ 84:
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 left the soup to simmer and walked over the counter. I rubbed Bill’s shoulder and said “wake up!”
He stirred and realised where he was. With a jolt, Bill frantically stood back up, nodded me a quick thanks and greeted the visitors.
I went back to the kitchen to finish cooking the soup. Even if I didn’t talk to people, I could still cook meals and bring them out. And doing that seemed to make people less miserable. Some drifters and beggars even said thanks. I sometimes even got a grateful grin from people, even if it meant they had to show their often broken teeth. I guess it meant
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
▲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.
▲'''The end??'''
'''The End'''
▲Yes. Yes it is. Have a nice day.
[[Category:Jeff the Killer]]
| |||