Skulking around in a deserted alley with nothing to do, Jeff stopped. The feeling came upon him as if he had been hit by a train, he needed to kill, he needed to kill. It was no longer just a feeling that he wanted to fulfill, it was now a necessary part of his life. He couldn’t go more than forty-eight hours without spilling blood. The longer he went without it, the more the victim needed to suffer…. it had been a week and a half since he killed last. He could wait no longer, walking out of the alley he saw a diner. It was around Halloween, no one would question his presence… or his face. He assumed that there would be a phone book in a diner, despite being in a relatively populated area the diner seemed to have a country air around it. Stumbling into the diner, almost physically sick because of the feeling, he could slaughter every single person in the diner right now. His hand fell to the knife in his sweatshirt pocket, his fingers tracing the edge of the knife he had used to murder so many people over the past three years, the knife that was so amazingly sharp. But he reminded himself that he would have to kill them all quickly; he would still need to satisfy the feeling. His hand leaving the edge of the knife, he stumbled over to the payphone; sure enough there was a phone book in the bottom. He knew an abandoned warehouse that one of his father’s more… exotic friends used for storage, it would have everything he needed. Now he just needed to find someone that lived close enough to it, searching for multiple minutes he happened upon someone who resided about five minutes from the warehouse. Victor Amsco, he dropped the book and was out of the diner before anyone could reprimand him for doing so. He was about a three minute run from this man’s home. Beginning the constant sprint that he had become used to, one thought entered his mind “Why?” he shrugged it off, not knowing what had caused it. Upon reaching the man’s home he realized that the walls were flat, he wouldn’t be able to climb them. Kicking his foot he disturbed the doormat, underneath was a key, he almost laughed aloud at the fact that someone could be as stupid as this man. “He deserves to die,” he thought to himself. Unlocking the front door with the key, he found an almost empty and bare house; he would have to remember its location for any future events. He found the man almost passed out from drunkenness on the couch. There was no struggle, he simply put the man on his shoulders and began the run to the warehouse. Upon arriving, he set the man down, it was time to find what he needed. Rummaging throughout the shelves memories came back, memories of his father, of good times when he didn’t need to kill. Again, he shook it off, dismissing the thought as a result of his not killing anyone for a week or so. Finding what he was looking for, a container of hydrochloric acid (he was looking for a power saw but for some reason came upon this) and a metal folding chair. Now he set about looking for mousetraps, he knew that they would be there, he had help set them. After he had found everything he needed he looked for one more thing, a mirror.
The man regained consciousness in a metal chair in the middle of a warehouse; he saw a hunched figure walking slowly toward him. He attributed this to the fact that him and his friends had done a ridiculous amount of drugs the night previously and that he was just dreaming. There was a metal table with bindings next to him, the strange figure transferred him to that and bound his wrists. He was now regaining awareness, realizing that the bindings hurt and that this wasn’t a dream. The stranger was messing around with what seemed to be a mousetrap arming it and putting it by the man’s hand. “Oh good,” the man remarked “You’re awake”. Pushing the man’s hand onto the mousetrap it snapped onto one of his fingers, breaking it. A scream of pain leapt from the man, fully awakening him to reality. The strange figure continued to do this to all of his fingers, until all of the bones in his fingers were dust. “I’m Jeff,” the strange figure said softly, pulling a pair of pliers out of his pocket and focusing on them. In a violent flurry of movement the figure, Jeff, used the pliers to pull out every single one of his finger nails. “You might not have bones, but you have nerves,” Jeff remarked calmly as he slowly pulled out the last finger nail.
Credit To – Zebula Eisch