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Pastra's Jeff the Killer

Chapter 1: Jay Douglas

Rain poured down on Carpenter’s Landing relentlessly. It was one of the worst storms the town had seen in years, and it showed no signs of stopping. Lightning flashed throughout the sky in massive bursts, with booming thunder following soon after. 

Following yet another long night of drinking alone in his dingy apartment, Jay Douglas tried to sleep despite the storm. Long black curtains covered his window to shield his eyes from the bright flashes that came and went, but he was left defenseless to the explosive sounds that always followed. His digital clock struck two in the morning when one such sound woke him from his deep sleep.

The thunder was louder than before, reverberating through his entire room so loudly he could feel it shaking. The sound startled him awake, shooting up from his bed and swinging out his arms in such a fashion that it knocked over an empty bottle that sat on the nightstand next to him. It fell to the ground loudly, hitting first against the lamp that sat next to it and then rattling against the floorboards, aggravating the hangover he could already feel coming on. 

“Aaaw fuck,” he mumbled to himself as he put his hand to his forehead and stared at the clock next to him. The pain in his head came in short, stinging bursts. It felt like at any moment it might split open. As his hand touched his forehead he could also feel the cold sweat that had collected there. 

That was when he felt the draft. He slowly looked around his room, trying to identify the source of the mild breeze that brushed across his body. The window remained closed, the black curtain over it maintaining its stillness. The old, dusty fan he kept in the far right corner of his room was turned off, just as he left it-

He jumped suddenly at the sight of a dark silhouette in the corner of his room. Quickly, he turned his body over on its side, turning on the lamp next to him. It illuminated the room in an instant, revealing the shadow to be nothing more than the pile of dirty laundry he had let sit there for well over a week now.

“God damnit,” he said to himself, letting out a weak, sarcastic chuckle as he continued to observe his surroundings. The lamp helped him identify the origin of the breeze, with his sights finally locking on the left side of his room. The door was left ajar, slowly pushing open as if something had made contact with it.

This was odd. Jay lived alone and he could have sworn that he closed the door behind him when he got home from work that night. He threw the thin blankets he was covering himself with off his bed, getting up to investigate. He nearly tripped over the bottle left on the floor as he made his way towards the door, cursing to himself as he struggled to regain balance. 

As he made his way to the door, he grabbed ahold of it to stop its movement, peering out into the darkness of his apartment to see what could have caused it to be left open. He turned to the left, being greeted only by the darkness of the hallways before him, then to the right, staring into his living room.

That was when he noticed something else that seemed off. The window to his living room was left wide open, allowing the rain to pour in all over his furniture. The wind pushed around more bottles left on the floor, being heard clinking together faintly.

Jay opened the door fully and made his way out of the room, stopping for a moment to lean against the wall and once again grab at his forehead. The longer he was awake the worse the throbbing in his head got. It felt like someone was grabbing at his brain and squeezing, a sensation that was nearly enough to make him vomit.

He stumbled his way to the window, making an effort not to trip over any of the miscellaneous bottles left about or his coffee table that sat right next to it, covered in burnt cigarette butts and ash. The carpet he had under his couch was drenched, combining with the frigid winds coming through the window to make Jay feel as though he were freezing. He shivered as he used all the energy he had to slam the window closed, and then he stood there for a moment.

Did I open the window when I came home…? He thought to himself, trying and failing to recollect the events that transpired only hours before. Jay came home in a drunken state, barely even able to walk through the door as he made his way to bed. Nights like this were common for him, it was just his way of working through the day to day life that was Carptenter’s Landing. The town wasn’t kind to him, nor the majority of people that made the mistake of calling it home. Sometimes it was easier just to spend the night drinking, hoping you’d forget everything the next morning.

Eventually Jay decided that it was for the best that he just go back to bed, not worrying about whatever it was he got up to hours before. His headache wasn’t going away for a while and the last thing he wanted was to stay awake any longer for it to get worse.

He mustered up the strength to make the short trek back to his room, nearly falling over at one point and using the wall for support. As he arrived there, he practically collapsed onto his bed, not even being bothered to pull his blanket back over himself. Jay tried to drift back to sleep, but that was when he noticed something else that was odd. A smell that now permeated through his room.

Burnt cigarettes. He knew that smell better than any, and it was strong. Not even bothering to open his eyes again, he felt around his bed blindly to see if maybe he had left any out in the open. Nothing. Perhaps if he were completely sober or in less of a tired state, he would have given the smell more thought. But the grogginess of sleep was washing over him once more, and the accompanying headache now felt like a hammer continuously hitting against the front of his skull.

All Jay wanted was to sleep, and so despite his suspicions he soon drifted off once more. He was found dead the next morning.

Chapter 2: Samuel Morgan

The storm from the night prior persisted into the early hours of the morning when Samuel Morgan got the call. Another victim of the Ghost Stalker, found dead in his apartment on Cable Crescent. He was barely awake, shaking off the grogginess as he assured his partner over the phone that he would be there soon. He slowly shuffled his way out of bed, making an effort not to wake his wife who was still fast asleep. 

Samuel made his way to the washroom, inspecting himself in the mirror to see if he was presentable enough to go to the crime scene as he was. The many sleepless nights were not kind to him. His already wrinkled face now had the addition of dark bags that hung low beneath his eyes. His mustache was unkempt, with new gray hairs flecked in alongside the brown. The same could be seen from his hair, with what was left of it shifting to a similar shade from age and stress.

“Good enough,” He mumbled to himself, making no attempt to tidy his appearance before getting ready. He simply slipped into his uniform from the day prior, grabbed whatever quick breakfast meal was left in the fridge for him, and stepped out the door before his wife could wake.

The storm had somehow gotten worse than it was during the night. The sky was stained a deep shade of gray, bringing down cascades of dark water which flooded the streets like a river. Driving to the crime scene was a nightmare in that weather. Samuel had to take several detours due to his usual route being blocked off from flooding, turning a ten minute drive into twenty. By the time he finally got there, paramedics were seen carrying the body out of the dilapidated apartment complex on a large stretcher.

Samuel could see his partner, Norman Keller, waiting outside for him. The kid looked shaken up, as if this were his first crime scene all over again. He nervously paced back and forth in the pouring rain, letting it soak his uniform and drench his black hair that he kept slicked back to keep it out of his eyes.

Lighting a cigarette, Samuel stepped out of his car to do the same song and dance he was used to by now. The moment Norman saw him approaching he immediately broke free from the dissociated trance he was in, calling out to Samuel before he had even gotten across the street.

“What the hell took ya so long?!” He yelled, his arms folding into his chest. Samuel completely ignored this remark as he made his way towards his partner. Up close he could now see that Norman was visibly shaking, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or whatever happened before he’d arrived. Norman went to provide the details of the murder, but got distracted the moment he got a good, proper look at Samuel.

He pulled him aside, keeping his hand on his shoulder as he whispered to him. “Sam, I thought you told your wife you’d quit?” Norman pointed at the cigarette in Samuel’s mouth. The older cop rolled his eyes at the comment, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and stamping it on the ground.

“Norman, does that really matter right now?” Samuel said as he turned back towards the apartment, staring up at the sorry state it was in. The complex, just like every other building on Cable Crescent, looked like it should have been abandoned years ago. The building was one giant, soulless block of concrete with windows shoddily implemented into the sides of it to give the illusion of a proper living space. “Just give me the details, same as the others?” His gaze never broke from the building as he spoke.

Norman shook his head and lightly facepalmed, embarrassed that he even let himself get distracted from what was at hand. “Oh, r-right… Yeah, same as all the others. Caucasian, male, brunette, early twenties. Was found at around five in the morning by his sister who came by to check on ‘em. Poor girl found ‘em in his bed with his throat slashed.” Norman let out a long, exasperated sigh as he finished explaining.

“And what about family? Were you able to get in contact with anyone else?” Samuel asked, continuing the conversation as if he’d had it hundreds of times before.

“Only family we are currently aware of is the sister. No parents we can contact and we’re lookin’ into any friends who may have known ‘em.” Norman said as he now walked in front of Samuel, trying to grab his attention. “It’s definitely our guy. Matches his whole MO to a tee.”

“Witnesses?” Samuel responded, folding his arms as he slowly met his partner’s gaze.

“Nope… Nothing new that can ‘elp us find our guy. Just another victim to add to the list.” As Norman replied, Samuel went to speak but was interrupted as his partner suddenly piped up again, oddly excitedly. “B-but, that doesn’t mean we aren’t getting closa’!”

Samuel looked at Norman confused, raising one of his bushy eyebrows as he spoke. “Uh, yeah Norman… That is exactly what that means,” he said sarcastically.

Norman immediately continued, not letting Samuel’s snide remark stop him. “No no no you don’t get what I mean. See, last night after you went home, I started doin’ a bit of detective work myself! And after a couple hours a’ diggin’ into some old reports and talkin’ to some people, I think we might be able to figure out who our guy is!”

Samuel was surprised by the sudden conviction of his usually immature partner, but also took what he was saying with a grain of salt. Norman was by all intents and purposes, still a rookie. He made reckless decisions that Samuel usually had to clean up after, so hearing this didn’t inspire the awe that Norman had hoped. He tilted his head, waiting for Norman to continue.

“Now I can tell from yer expression that y’skeptical. But trust me, I got somethin’ good here! Last night after you left I got a call from someone claimin’ they had a run in with our guy!” as Norman explained his process he began to pace around in the rain like before, “I talked to them about it and the account they gave me sounded really oddly familiar. Like I’d heard the story before.”

“Please get on with it.” Samuel grumbled as he rubbed his hand against his head.

“I was goin’ to! Ya can’t rush me ‘ere!” Norman responded, raising his voice slightly and moving his hands in an exaggerated fashion. It took him a moment to regain his train of thought before he could continue. “Anyways, I realized after talkin’ to the guy why it sounded so familiar. Couple a guys few months back reported some really similar encounters, and what do ya know, when I decided to do a background check, all a’ these guys had the same description as our killer’s victims. Caucasian, male, brunette, early twenties.”

As he finished explaining, he stopped in his tracks completely, holding his arms in grandiose fashion, waiting for his partner’s approval. Samuel did see the merit in Norman’s research, but also couldn’t help but find himself questioning it. 

“Interesting…” He said quietly, putting his hand to his chin, lost in thought. “And what makes you think this wasn’t a coincidence? Do you have any way of proving these peoples’ stories line up with our killer?”

“Nope!” Norman said with an odd amount of confidence. “And that, my friend, is why I asked them all to come to the station today!”

“You what?” Samuel asked, now more confused than ever. “Why would you ask these people to come to the station with no proof they are even involved in this? You’re just working on a hunch!” As he spoke Samuel sounded more and more exhausted with Norman’s reckless actions, now rubbing his hand against his head as if to fight off a headache.

“Sam, buddy, look. Here’s how I see it. Right now, a hunch is the best thing we have ta’ work with. We’ve got a maniac on the loose and not a single lead as to who he could be. I figured that we could give this a shot! Let these people tell their stories, see if what they describe lines up with our guy, and if so that might give us the info we need!” Norman explained, waving his hands in all different directions as he spoke. 

There was a long pause as Samuel considered what his partner was saying. He ultimately let out a long sigh as he agreed to play along. “Fine. We’ll go to the station and see what they can tell us. But Norman, this better not be a waste of our time-” 

“It won’t be, trust me! I got a good feelin’ about this!” Norman cut off Samuel, already heading back to his car. As he swung the door open he waved to Samuel, shouting to him from a distance. “I’ll see ya back at the station! Don’t be late this time!” And with that he drove off, splashing water from the street everywhere.

Samuel soon followed his partner to the Carpenter’s Landing Police Department, pulling over on the side of the road and stepping out of his car. As he made his way inside he was greeted by Norman, who took him to where the three men were waiting to give their testimonies. Before they entered the room, Samuel voiced some concerns with his partner.

“They haven’t spoken with each other have they? The men you called? I don’t want their stories getting mixed up with each other.” He spoke sternly, making sure Norman understood what he was talking about.

“No they haven’t! Each of ‘em only arrived a little bit ago, and they’re just waitin’ at the front desk to give their testimonies. None of their stories ‘er gonna be jumbled up with each other, it’ll be fine!” Norman reassured his partner, gesturing with his hands for him to calm down. “Now if you wanna wait in there,” he pointed towards the small room they stood in front of, the window revealing an empty white room with a table in the middle, “I can go get our first guy.”

Samuel didn’t say anything else. He simply opened the door and stepped foot into the interview room to await the first of the three witnesses. A few minutes passed by in silence, with Samuel reconsidering even bothering with this when he could be investigating any other leads regarding their killer. Before he could decide to just get up and leave though, Norman arrived with the first of their witnesses.

The man who walked in with him was a tall, larger fellow with brown stubble and a large black hoodie. His head was clean shaven and he had a friendly look to him. He and Samuel shook hands before he took a seat at the table across from the officers. 

“Sam, this here is Bruce Macdonald!” Norman introduced the man now sitting with them, who gave a small, awkward wave in response. 

“I’m told, Bruce, that you had a run in with somebody who may be the guy we are currently looking for. What can you tell us about that night? We want all the details you can provide.” Samuel made sure to speak in a softer tone than his usual speaking voice, to try and make Bruce as comfortable as possible.

“Well uh… I guess I better start with what my buddies and I were doing before anything happened…” Bruce said, trailing off as he began to explain his account of what happened the night he came face to face with death.

Chapter 3: Bruce Macdonald

A couple months ago myself and a few friends went on a week long bender, traveling around the city and getting up to no good. It was something I did far more often than I liked to admit. My buddy Jay in particular enabled this behavior in me, convinced me there was nothing else to do in this city and he needed friends to keep him company while he spiraled out of control.

I don’t remember much from the bender. Most of the time they were just a blur until I would inevitably get dropped off at home, sober up, and then get ready to go on another. What I do remember clear as day though, was the night I was dropped off at my apartment. It was a stormy night like this one, rain flooded the streets so badly that Jay could barely keep his shitbox of a car on the road. Felt like a miracle when he dropped me off at my apartment late that night.

I stumbled my way up the stairs to my floor, tripping over my own feet as I got to the door. I remember being so shitfaced drunk that I could barely even grab a hold of my keys to open the door, only to find out that I had made the stupid mistake of leaving it completely unlocked. I started cursing to myself the second I realized how badly I’d messed up, storming into my house and immediately checking to see if anything was stolen.

I lived in a bad part of town, if you didn’t lock your doors someone was sure to take advantage of that the moment you stepped out of the house. My brother a while back had his whole place robbed just like that. Bunch of guys showed up when he wasn’t around and took practically everything valuable that wasn’t nailed to the floor.

I remember I looked my whole apartment up and down, checking for anything that could have been taken. I looked through my drawers, opened every closet, hell I even looked through my fridge to make sure they didn’t take any food. Maybe it was because I was so intoxicated at the time that everything was kind of a blur, but I remember being shocked to find that to my knowledge, nothing was stolen.

Maybe it was because I didn’t have anything worth stealing, maybe it was because I was just lucky, but either way the panic slowly faded from my system and all I could think about after was food. I wanted to sober up at least a little bit before I headed to bed that night.

I opened my fridge again, grabbing whatever miscellaneous items were in there to make the worst sandwich known to man, when suddenly all the lights inside of it went dark. I knew exactly what that meant, going over to the main light switch to my apartment and flicking it up and down. No lights.

The part of town I lived in was known for having shitty electricity so it was no surprise that the storm took out the power. I just let out an exhausted sigh and continued throwing together my “delicious” mustard and cheese sandwich, ate it surprisingly fast for how awful it tasted, and made my way to bed. 

I was quick to fall asleep. The rain outside was oddly soothing and the alcohol running through my system had me feeling tired already. I would have slept like a log that night if not for the stench that woke me up only hours later.

It was three in the morning when I shot awake, sitting up in my bed in a cold sweat. The smell filled my entire room. The rancid smell of burnt cigarettes and gasoline. At first I thought there had somehow been a fire, but when I frantically looked around the room it was too dark to be able to see anything. I blindly felt around the nightstand next to me for my phone, turning on the flashlight with what little battery it had left.

That was when I saw something that I still remember clear as day, even in the dark of my room, even despite the grogginess and intoxication I was fighting off at the time. A hand. A hand that for but a moment was revealed sticking out from under my bed. A hand which quickly retreated back into the darkness the moment the light of my flashlight revealed it. I froze there for a moment, staring down at the floor in a surreal form of terror I had never felt before.

I couldn’t tell if the man under my bed knew I had seen him or not, but regardless I pretended I hadn’t. I moved the light around my room with trembling hands as I tried to identify anything else that was wrong. Nothing. The smell was coming from him, it had to be.

I tried my hardest to think of what to do in the situation. I had to get out of that room but I didn’t want the intruder to know I was aware of his presence. Best I could think to do was play it off like I had woken up needing to use the washroom. I slowly shuffled my way to the foot of my bed, letting out a fake, tired yawn, and spoke under my breath something along the lines of “man I gotta piss.”

I then tried to stand up and make my way towards the door, using my phone’s flashlight to ensure I didn’t trip over anything in the dark. As I grabbed onto the doorknob, carefully turning it so as to not look as though I was in a rush, I heard something that made my blood run cold. The sound of shuffling behind me, and a raspy, whispering voice that spoke to me from under my bed.

“Where are you going?” He said to me, as I quickly turned around with the flashlight to reveal the source of the sound. The man was now climbing out from under my bed, struggling to pull himself out as his eyes locked onto mine. In that moment I could make out all the ghastly details of his face.

He was pale, pale as a ghost. His skin looked like rough leather, and a disgusting, unnatural smile crept across his face all the way up to his eyes. It looked so painful, almost like his true smile stopped at a certain point and roughly transitioned into large, infected wounds that held the shape of it. His eyes were no better. Wide and bloodshot, with dark black rings stained around them. Hair clung to his head in patches, with what was there being long, black, greasy strands that went down to his shoulders. As he struggled to pull himself out from under my bed I could see what he was wearing. A filthy white hoodie, covered in what looked like dirt and dried, dark blood. 

My phone battery died mere seconds after revealing the man, giving me only a brief glance at him before I was left to fend for myself in complete and total darkness. My fight or flight response kicked in. I let out a horrible scream, throwing my door open and sprinting through my apartment as fast as my weak legs to take me. I ran into my living room, tripping over the side of my couch and falling to the floor in the pitch black darkness.

I lied there for a moment, trying to regain my composure when I heard the sound of wet footsteps closing in behind me. That gave me enough adrenaline to get back up, booking it for the door and slamming it closed behind me.

I remember running down the halls of my apartment, slamming on the doors of my neighbors and screaming for help. Eventually one of them opened their door, a guy about my age who tried to calm me down. He asked what was wrong and I told him that someone had broken into my home. His face went pale, and he beckoned me inside, pulling out his cell phone to call the police.

It wasn’t long before officers arrived and searched the entire premises. They couldn’t find any intruders. It seemed like the man had slipped out in the time it took for them to get there. They asked me a couple of questions, finding empty beer bottles and tobacco around my house. I assured them that he was there, and that I had no idea who he was.

After that night I was paranoid. I never left the house and kept everything locked at all times. I remember my buddy Jay tried calling me to go out but I kept ignoring him, scared that if I left that man would find a way back into my house while I was away. Eventually he stopped talking to me, choosing to continue our destructive habits alone.

Months later I ended up going to rehab. The whole experience kinda scared me straight in a weird way. Seeing someone like that in my house, being that close to potentially dying, it put the state of my life into perspective in a way I never thought it would. Anytime I think about going back to my old habits now, whether it be weed or alcohol, I just think about that face staring at me from the dark and it makes me think twice. I just hope my buddy is doing alright now without me.

Anyways, the reason I came in here to talk to you two is because I’ve been hearing about the murders going on. About how this guy shows up at night and kills people in their sleep. Every time I hear someone bring it up I just can’t help but think it’s the same guy I saw that night. I hope my story helps make finding him easier. Nobody should have to go through what I did that night.

With his story finished, Bruce Macdonald let out a long, exhausted sigh. Samuel could see a great deal of relief all over the man’s face, and for a moment he broke from his “tough cop” demeanor to give him a soft smile. Norman looked over at Samuel with concern, his eyes wide since the mention of who the two assumed to be Jay Douglas. Samuel met his partner’s gaze knowingly, quietly shaking his head and hoping that Norman would get the hint not to tell the man in front of them what happened to his friend.

“Thank you, Bruce.” Samuel said with a light nod. “Your story helps us a lot with this investigation. And don’t worry, we promise that this man will be caught.”

Bruce gave Samuel the same soft smile as Norman stood to escort him out of the room. As Bruce made his way down the hall, he passed someone who appeared to be making their way to the same room he was interviewed. A smaller individual, with a skinnier build and dark bags under their eyes. Their brown hair was cut short and they wore a worn out t-shirt and jeans.

As the two passed one another, Bruce gave a small wave to the stranger. They simply passed him by with no regard, and walked into the interview room to give their own testimony.

Chapter 4: Ashley Carter

My name is Ashley Carter. I was born and raised in Carptenter’s Landing, unfortunately. Life wasn’t exactly easy for me growing up. My older brother was a deadbeat and my parents both ended up leaving us at some point when I was still young, so I had to spend the better part of my life putting up with that day by day.

I tried not to let those experiences bring me down a similar path though, you know? I saw what it brought my brother and I wanted to be better. That was why instead of getting into drugs and alcohol like every other person who lives here I tried to make the best of my situation. I did well in school, saved what little money I had, and I have been studying law at the Tremblay Community College for the last couple years now. If all goes well, I’ll be out of this town as soon as I graduate.

All that to say, my story actually started at my college campus. I was up late one night working on a project. I was studying the Woods family homicide that happened a couple years back, and completely lost track of time. The sun was setting by the time I’d noticed how long I was there. Looking at the time, I figured I’d worked hard enough and could make my way home to spend the rest of the night relaxing.

I lived close to campus, only about ten minutes away at the longest, so usually I just chose to walk instead of taking the bus or driving. That night was no different. I must’ve been halfway to my house by the time the street lights began turning on one by one around me. Each of them flickered to life pathetically, with some of them glowing dully and others burning out completely as I passed them by. 

It was as these lights began to illuminate the streets that I  noticed him following me. This guy in a white hoodie who walked on the sidewalk parallel to me. I didn’t see him until one of the lights above revealed him walking at an equal pace to mine. At first I didn’t pay him any mind. I saw plenty of guys like him on my walks home and some of them had even approached me before asking for things like spare change.

That was why I wasn’t as alarmed as I should have been when he began to make his way to my side of the sidewalk. I saw him take a sharp turn onto the middle of the street, keeping his hands in his pockets and his head low. With the closer look I now had at the guy I could see he was also wearing a white medical mask over his face that concealed most of his features. I was a bit worried by his quick approach, but rather than running or making a scene I simply called out to him.

“Hey! Can I help you man?” I shouted. The words caused him to freeze up completely, like a deer in headlights. He stood there in the middle of the street for a few seconds, until slowly tilting his head up to meet my gaze. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. I couldn’t tell if he looked high or completely insane. 

The moment we made eye contact his demeanor shifted into something completely different. Instead of quickly approaching like before, he now slowly and methodically advanced towards me with his entire body hunched over. With each step he put all of his weight onto one of his feet, and the entire time he never broke eye contact with me. Any time I would step back or move suddenly in any way, he would freeze up momentarily and begin sizing me up like a predator stalking its prey.

At this point I was thoroughly freaked out. I didn’t know what the guy wanted, and nobody was out there that night that could see what was going on. I started weighing my options. I worried that if I stayed there he would try to mug me or something, but I also feared that if I suddenly ran away he would give chase. 

You may think I am an idiot for deciding to do so, but in the moment I just decided to stand my ground and find out what this guy wanted from me. He continued his slow, animal-like advances until he was standing about three feet from me, still remaining in the middle of the road.

With how close he was, I could catch the scent of something burnt coming off of him. Like scorched hair and oil. It was foul and almost made me gag. I tried stepping back from him, folding my arms and trying to keep my distance. He stared at me like a curious child, tilting his head and eyeing me up with those wide, bloodshot eyes. I went to speak to him again, but he cut me off as he spoke in a low, raspy whisper.

“I finally found you.” He murmured. There was this shaky, excitement in his tone that freaked me out even more than I already was.

“W-what are you talking about? I don’t know you, man.” I responded, taking another step away from him. I had never seen this guy in my entire life, to this day I have no idea what he was talking about. But he persisted, and seemed almost offended by what I’d said to him.

“Y-yes, you do. How could you not recognize me? Is it because of the mask?” He continued to whisper, his voice trembling. As he spoke, he pulled one of his dirty hands from his pocket and removed the medical mask covering his face. I gagged at the sight of him.

His face was pale and covered in thick, yellow blisters that went along his cheeks and mouth, which was contorted into an uncomfortable, red smile. Yellow, crooked teeth lined his sore ridden mouth, and I could see bits of blood running from his gums all the way down his lip and chin. He had long, black greasy hair which ran down to his shoulders and partially over his face, now obscuring his large, bloodshot eyes. He looked like someone had splashed his face with acid.

When he saw my visceral reaction to his face, that bloody smile of his somehow grew wider, now stretching ear to ear. It looked so painful. I continued to walk backwards, raising my hand in front of me to keep the distance between us. I could barely speak when I choked the words “stay back” out of my mouth. He let out this small, childish giggle as if he enjoyed every second of our encounter.

“Oh come on now. That’s no way to look at your brother. What would mom and dad think?” He asked me, his voice now raising as he began advancing towards me again with that same hunched posture. I had no idea what he was talking about. This man was not my brother, I had never seen him before.

Before I had time to question him about this though, he pulled his other hand from his sweater pocket, revealing a used hunting knife that was covered in dried, crusty blood. He raised it towards me, tilting his head with that same childlike demeanor he’d previously shown, but before he could swing it at me I turned and ran down the street faster than I had ever run in my entire life. 

I could hear him give chase behind me, gaining on me as I bolted down the road. I screamed for help but nobody came, just as I’d feared. I was alone out there while that maniac hunted me down.

The one thing that kept me going aside from the adrenaline pumping through my veins was the promise that I could get to my house if I just kept running. It was closeby, I knew the route and it was only a couple minutes away when walking. If I just kept going at the pace I was, I would make it before he caught up to me. 

I continued to run, never once looking behind me. My throat burned with a searing pain, I could feel my legs giving way, but I kept going until I arrived at my house. As I made my way up the steps of the front porch, I swung the door open, turning to look behind me only to see…. Nothing.

He was completely gone. That didn’t stop me from running into my house, slamming the door behind me and locking it as quickly as I could. Not long after I called the police and reported the entire thing. I was told that they would look for the man who attacked me, but it didn’t seem like anything had come from it. 

I never did see him again, but I have spent every single night after fearing that I will. I refuse to stay on campus during those late hours anymore, only ever leaving on the community buses where I know large groups of people will be gathered. At night I never feel safe anymore. Any small sound I may hear makes me jump out of my own skin, and I always see that hideous face staring back at me when I close my eyes to sleep at night.

If the person you’re looking for is the same guy who attacked me that night, I hope to god you catch him. Not just to stop these murders, but to give me some peace of mind. I don’t want to spend every day of my life looking over my shoulder, thinking some boogeyman is hiding in the dark.

Samuel could see that Ashley was shaking as they finished their testimony. The poor kid was scared out of their mind, even when recounting an old story. He tried to the best of his ability to give them some form of comfort, leaning forward on the table with his elbows as he spoke.

“Ashley. I promise you, my partner and I will find this man. You don’t have to be afraid of him, I’ll make sure of it.” He said solemnly. Ashley seemed to calm down upon hearing those words. The shaking stopped and he took a long, deep breath.

“Thank you,” was all Ashley said in response as they pushed their chair out and left the room before Norman could even see them out.

Ashley left the police department soon after, going out to the front desk just as the next witness stood from his chair. The man was tall and built. He had long, fluffy brown hair and very distinguished, chiseled features. As Ashley tried to pass him by, the man spoke to them.

“You saw him too, right?” He said, grabbing Ashley’s attention. Ashley turned to the man, staring up at him and meeting his eyes. Despite how large the man was, when Ashley looked into his eyes they saw the same fear they’d felt, and knew they had both encountered the same boogeyman.

“Yeah, I did.” Ashley muttered before catching themself. “But they’ll catch him. I know they will.” With that, Ashley turned and left the building, letting the man make his way to the interview room to give his own testimony.

Chapter 5: Jonathan West

Every year my wife, Sherry, and I made an effort to get out of town one way or another once the summer rolled around. Our trips were never anything extravagant, usually just heading one city over to visit some family or taking a short hike, but they were enough for the two of us. Life here was hard, and any excuse we had to get away from it all for a little bit was good enough for us.

This year was no different. About a month back we planned out this big hiking trip in a forest near town. We would hike along whatever path we could, taking in all the sights of nature, and then when we were done we’d set up camp for the night and just enjoy each others’ company by the campfire.

I remember how excited the two of us were when we finally made that drive. We were joking along with each other, Sherry excitedly pointing to everywhere she wanted to visit on this map that she brought along, all the while the concrete pillars of Carpenter’s Landing got smaller and smaller in our rear view mirror. It was going to be perfect. At least that’s what we thought.

By the time we arrived at the forest clearing, the sun was already setting. We’d left late in the day, wanting to spend our first night relaxing far from the polluted air and bright lights that poisoned our lives day by day. A quiet night in the wilderness, holding each other close as the warmth of the fire flickered calmly.

We parked our car close to the forest entrance, unpacking what felt like hundreds of supplies for every situation. My wife is a worrier, she would usually plan ahead for every possible issue we’d come across no matter how small. I wasn’t exactly complaining about it, but it certainly made that first night far more exhausting than we’d ever planned.

We lugged our gear along a dirt path left behind for hikers like ourselves, making an effort to avoid any branches or shrubbery that would make us topple over and drop everything along the forest floor. Even with the path we took the forest was dense. Large oak trees surrounded us around every corner, with shrubs and other plantlife huddled beneath them, making the forest a nightmare to navigate without a map on hand. 

Combine that with the darkness that was quickly overtaking the woods, and we could barely make out where we were going. Only reason we found the clearing we were looking for was because Sherry lit the way with this large flashlight she brought, making sure to guide me as I did most of the heavy lifting with our gear.

When we got to the clearing, I immediately got to work setting up this cheap little tent we brought while my wife gathered wood and set up a fire for us. As soon as both of us were done with our tedious tasks, we both collapsed by the fire and just laid there for a while. If the story ended here then I would have remembered it as being a perfect night. Sure the trek was difficult but it was well worth it just to have those few short moments of quiet. Laying by the fire, staring up at the stars through the trees, holding the love of my life in my arms. 

But of course, it didn’t stay that way for long. As the two of us laid there, enjoying the calm sounds of the fire, the silence was suddenly broken by a loud, shrill scream being heard deep within the forest. It was a single scream, sounded like a young man. It echoed out loudly before the woods returned to that same silence we grew accustomed to in an instant. I remember Sherry and I just stared at each other for a moment in shock, clearly trying to make heads or tails of what we’d just heard.

And then another scream shattered the quiet once more, this one sounding more strained and painful than before, until abruptly stopping just as quickly as it began. Silence once more. At this point Sherry was freaking out in my arms, trembling and begging for us to leave. I tried to calm her down to no avail, when we heard another sound, this one closer than the screams ever were. The sound of soft footsteps closing in on our campsite. 

I wasted no time ushering Sherry into the tent the moment I heard the sound. We had no idea what was out there, and I wasn’t about to find out standing out in the open. We sat in that tent in near perfect silence, my wife shaking in my arms and me trying my hardest to keep both of us calm. 

The footsteps grew nearer and nearer until they were right outside our tent, and then they suddenly stopped. The fire outside illuminated the figure, casting its shadow overtop the translucent tent and revealing to us what it was. A man. A tall man that looked to be wearing baggy clothes, now just standing outside the tent like a statue. I could hear him start mumbling something to himself out there, and his shadow began swaying back and forth.

He stood out there for what felt like an eternity, whispering to nobody like he was in some kind of catatonic state. Eventually I had enough of it. I rummaged around in our tent for some kind of weapon, settling on a hunting knife we had brought. As I went to open the tent, Sherry grabbed at my shirt sleeve, mouthing the words “no” to me over and over, but I assured her I would be ok, and slowly unzipped the tent to get a better look at the man outside.

I peered my head out of the small entrance I created, just enough to be able to see him. He was facing away from our tent, staring deeply into the campfire as he continued his quiet rambling. He wore a large, baggy white hoodie and black cargo pants. The hoodie was filthy, covered in all kinds of dirt, grime, and most strikingly, what looked like blood. The same blood could be seen running through his dark hair and all over his hands which tightly clutched his shoulders as if he were cold.

The light from the fire reflected off the blood stains, creating a glare which told me it was fresh. My mind began to race with all the horrible implications of his appearance. What were those screams we heard? Did he… did he kill someone before arriving here? Before I had long to think about it, I caught something the man said while transfixed by the fire. Something I could actually make out between the gibberish he was speaking in.

“There’s…” he said in his raspy, shrill voice, “There’s been a fire… Get- get mom and dad….” I had no idea what he was talking about, but hearing him speak properly was enough to snap me out of the confused state I was in and step out of the tent, now holding the hunting knife in my right hand for him to see.

“Hey!” I said to him sternly. “What the fuck do you want?” I tried to make myself as imposing as possible to this man despite my fear. I puffed out my chest and spoke as confidently as I could, but even then it was clear that the encounter had me shaken up.

When he heard my words his head suddenly snapped in my direction, making immediate eye contact with me. One look at his face was enough for all my fake bravado to shatter. 

He looked burnt, badly burnt. His face was scarred and misshapen, with a large burn mark creeping up his cheek towards his left eye which looked to be blind. At first glance it looked like half of a large, painful smile. He was missing almost all of his hair on the left side of his head as well, with what was still there barely clinging to his scalp in small black patches. The other side of his face would have looked fine by comparison, if not for the blood that covered it almost completely.

I stepped back at the sight of him, my heart sinking to my stomach and my breaths becoming sporadic. The moment he saw me a flash of recognition suddenly appeared on his face, breaking him free from the strange trance he was in.

“Is that you?” He asked me in an excited voice. “I can’t believe you’re here! I finally found you!” As he said those words to me, he opened his arms and began to slowly walk towards me, his hands and arms still dripping with that fresh, thick blood. I didn’t know what he wanted or who he thought I was, but I wasn’t having any of it. I took one step back and firmly planted my feet into the dirt, pointing the hunting knife at him as I shouted.

“Get the hell away from me you freak! You take one step closer and I’ll kill you!” That time I meant it. I was not about to let this guy get anywhere close to me or my wife, no matter how scared I was. The moment he heard those words something about his demeanor changed. He looked shocked, his eyes going wide and bloodshot and his arms slowly lowering.

“H-how could you say that to me…?” He whispered, tears beginning to roll down his face. That was when I saw him reach into his pocket and pull out an old box cutter, covered in the same blood as his hands and sweater. He suddenly hunched forward, and lunged at me faster than I ever could have expected from a man his size. He tackled me to the ground, raising the box cutter above his head and preparing to swing down at me. In that instant I acted fast, stabbing him in the side of the torso with the hunting knife and kicking him off of me as he screamed in pain.

He barreled backwards into the campfire, his hoodie catching on fire as he tried to regain his composure. I screamed for Sherry to run, and soon after her and I were bolting through the dark forest together, tripping over branches and shrubbery but continuing forward regardless. That moment, running through the dark of the woods, knowing that maniac may be trailing behind us, was the most scared I have ever been in my entire life.

My mind was racing, my eyes darted in every direction, mistaking the shapes of the oak trees around us for the man. It felt like a miracle when we saw the moonlight piercing through the trees, revealing the forest exit to us. We got to our car, and I frantically rummaged through my pockets trying to get my hands on the keys. I constantly checked behind myself, making sure he didn’t follow us. The man was nowhere to be seen.

When I got my hands on the keys, I opened the doors to our car and next thing you know my wife and I floored it out of there. I remember that ride home so vividly. The sobbing, the arguing about what to do next, the questioning about who that man was and what he wanted, it was the worst night of my entire life.

After we got home I called the cops and reported the whole thing. I remember I was told that they’d check the forest out to try and find any bodies, but I don’t think anything came of it. Ever since then things have been different between my wife and I. I’ve tried to help her work through what we experienced, but she’s become so paranoid ever since that she barely even wants to leave the house. It’s gotten especially bad now that word has gotten out about “The Ghost Stalker” or whatever else people are calling him. She is absolutely convinced the guy we saw that night and the killer you’re looking for are the same guy.

That’s why I am here. I hope that by telling you this, maybe you’ll be able to piece things together and catch him. I want that more than anything, for the victims, and so Sherry doesn’t have to be afraid to leave the house anymore. I just wanna see her happy again. 

As Jonathan finished giving his account, tears ran down his face and his head hung low. Norman glanced over at his partner, clearly unequipped to deal with this kind of situation. Samuel caught his glance, taking in a deep breath before saying “don’t worry Jonathan, we will catch him. No matter what, I promise you we will.”

Jonathan lifted his head to look at Samuel, sniffling and saying “thank you” before standing up and getting ready to leave. “Will that be all? I gotta make sure I get home before Sherry starts to worry.” He asked, pointing to the door. Samuel and Norman both nodded, and Jonathan left with newfound hope that the man who attacked him and his wife that night would be brought to justice.

Chapter 6: Norman Keller

With all the witnesses having provided their testimonies, Norman and Samuel were left in the interview room to stew over everything they were told. The accounts of each witness only left them with more questions about their killer than when they began. Samuel sat at the table, his head resting in his hands as he pondered every possibility. Meanwhile, Norman paced back and forth, talking out loud to himself much to his partner’s dismay.

“So we can at least agree they all encountered the same guy, right? I-I mean, the descriptions were a bit off but… But they were close enough that there is no way this wasn’t the same guy, right?” Norman asked, taking a brief pause from his pacing and turning to Samuel for reassurance. Samuel simply let out an affirmative grunt, nodding his head slowly.

“The stories had more in common than just his appearance too.” Samuel added, now resting his hands on the table and leaning back in his chair. “This stalker behaves just like our killer does. Follows his victims at night, chooses them wisely too it seems-” before Samuel could finish his sentence, Norman cut him off, thinking aloud once more.

“Yeah what is up with that?! Guy acted like those last two witnesses were part of his family or somethin’, and he clearly wasn’t just toyin’ with ‘em either! No, no he really believed it from the way they explained it.” Norman began making large gestures with his hands, as if trying to paint a picture in the air to illustrate his point and failing.

“I noticed that too. Makes the patterns with his victims make more sense when we look at it that way. Perhaps he is looking for one specific person he can’t find? Someone who matches the victim’s descriptions that he could mistaken them for. A family member, or a close friend?” Samuel continued, now sharing his thoughts more closely with his partner as they worked things out. 

“An’ what about all that mention of fire? First two guys said that he reeked of oil or burnt cigarettes or whatever, and the third guy mentioned that fire. What is that guys’ deal with…” Before Norman could finish his thought, he suddenly paused, a flash of recognition appearing on his face as his eyes widened. “Hold on, w-wait a minute!” 

Samuel stared at his partner confused, raising one of his eyebrows as he waited with baited breath to hear him continue. He gestured towards him, twirling his hand as he said “well come on now, spit it out!”

“W-what was it that Ashley person said they were studyin’ at the Tremblay Community College?” Norman said quickly, pointing at his partner and waiting for him to answer like he was on some kind of bizarre game show. Samuel pondered it for a moment, playing out the story in his mind again before he remembered, chiming in.

“The Woods family homicide? Why does that matter?” Samuel folded his arms, confused but willing to hear out whatever it was Norman would say.

“Ok ok, so. I remember a few years back when that murder happened. Was treated like a big deal back here at the station. I didn’t get to investigate it or nothin’ since I was new, but a lot of the other guys ‘round here let me in on some of the little details of it.” Norman explained, beginning to walk in circles as he explained, keeping eye contact with the floor. “Apparently some kid named Jeffrey and his family moved to Carpenter’s Landing after this big fire at their old place. This Jeffrey kid was bad news Sam, a real black sheep in the family. I was told he completely snapped after being bullied by a couple a’ kids and tried to kill his whole family.”

Samuel never spoke up, letting his partner explain. He normally hated it when Norman went on these massive tangents, but for once he really felt like he was going somewhere. He could tell from confidence in his partner’s voice.

“Either way, long story short, Jeffrey ended up killin’ his mom, but his younger brotha’ Liu ended up gettin’ away! By the time police arrived, they found gasoline cans in Jeff’s closet, but he was nowhere to be seen. They looked for ‘em for a while, but it was like he vanished completely!” Norman suddenly stopped in his tracks, waiting for Samuel’s thoughts.

“So let me get this straight. You think that-” Samuel tried to humor his partner, but paid the price as he was interrupted once more.

“That Jeffrey Woods might be our guy, and he wants to finish the job by findin’ and killin’ his brotha’ once and for all!” Norman held his head high as the words came out of his mouth. Samuel had never seen him so proud.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Norman, but how can we be so sure? I mean, you’re assuming a lot here.” Samuel said, trying not to burst his partner’s bubble completely while also being the more realistic of the two.

“Oh come on don’t give me that, Sam! Think about it! The obsession with family, the burning smell, the fire, it all adds up too well! If our guy really is Jeffrey Woods, we’d be catching the Ghost Stalker and we’d be solving a cold case, it’d be two bird with one stone!” Norman was trying now more than ever to convince Samuel of his logic. He had no proof yet, only vague theories, but deep down he knew he was onto something with this. Samuel could see that, and despite his skepticism he relented.

“Fine, I’ll play along. I’ll do some digging on this and see what I can find about it.” Samuel responded, a light smile across his face as he folded his arms. He could see the joy on Norman’s face when he agreed. This was the first time that Norman did most of the heavy lifting in a case like this, and Samuel could tell that he was living for every second of it.

“A-alrighty then! I-I’ll start doing some research myself then! See what I can find!” Norman said excitedly, and the two left the room to begin their own respective detective work.

A few hours passed at the station, with Norman conducting his own research on one of the six communal computers left at the office for times like this. He was completely absorbed in his work, typing away and looking into every document he could find pertaining to the Woods family homicide, when he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder. He quickly turned around to see Samuel standing next to him, a large file in his hand.

“So, I did some digging like you asked.” Samuel said, placing the file on the desk next to Norman. “And I think you’re gonna like what I found.” Samuel gestured to the file, nodding his head as if he waited for Norman to open it.

Norman excitedly flipped the file open, instantly being greeted to something that gave him all the confirmation he needed about his theory. A photo of  Liu Woods. The boy looked to be in about his twenties. He had long brown hair that went down to his shoulders, and sported a pair of square glasses overtop his large, brown eyes. 

“Sam, he looks just like ‘em! I told you I was onto somethin’!” Norman looked up at Samuel, expecting another one of his remarks, but only saw his partner staring down at him, arms folded with a large grin across his face.

“You sure did. Good work kid, this is the best lead we’ve had yet. I did some extra digging on this Liu kid. Turns out after the murders took place he went to live with his aunt for a while, and moved into an apartment in town once he was old enough for it. I’ve got an address.” Samuel said, the smile he had never fading from his face. It wasn’t often that Norman saw his partner so proud of his deductive skills. It made him more excited about the revelation than he ever was before.

“Well what the hell are we waitin’ for then?” Norman replied in a hurry, grabbing his coat and putting it on clumsily as he stepped out the door to their car. Samuel followed slowly behind, letting out a chuckle and shaking his head at his partner’s excitement.

As the two of them stepped into their car, they noticed that the rain outside was finally coming to a stop after hours of relentlessly flooding the streets. The water now weakly ran down the pavement, finding its way into whatever pothole it could and draining away to nothing in small whirlpools. The car ride passed in an excited quiet, with the two officers believing themselves to have found a lead that would bring them one step closer to stopping the killings of the Ghost Stalker once and for all.

The car ride eventually came to a stop as they arrived at their destination. A large apartment complex located on Great Mandy Street. The apartment was like most other buildings the two had seen in Carpenter’s Landing, a great pillar of old, worn stone that tried its hardest to imitate the comfortable living spaces seen in other cities. Graffiti lined the walls at the side of the building, depicting many colorful pieces of imagery that starkly contrasted the deep grays that made up the entire town.

The two officers stepped out of their vehicle quietly, staring up at the building as Samuel pulled out a note he left for himself to remember which room they were going to. And so, they walked together to the apartment complex, ready to talk with the person who may bring them one step closer to catching their killer.

Chapter 7: Liu Woods

Liu Woods woke from another restless sleep to the sound of knocking at his door. He didn’t know what time it was, but could tell from the sunlight attempting to peek through his curtains that he was awake too early. He slowly sat up in his mattress, trying his hardest to keep himself awake as he listened intently. The knocking continued, with three more heavy slams coming to his door. 

Liu scrambled off of the mattress he kept on the floor, trampling over several empty wrappers and bottles that had amassed around it. To keep his balance, he leaned against the rickety wooden door of his closet before standing up straight. He reached under his yellow, stained pillow and pulled out a small switchblade he had kept under it for safekeeping. He stared at the knife for a moment, clutching it so tightly he could feel his hand trembling. He came for me during the day he thought to himself, playing out every single possibility of what would happen the moment he opened the door.

He stayed like that for a while, only breaking from the trance when the sounds of the door knocking outside returned quickly and loudly. Struggling to get to his feet, Liu slowly crept across his dingy apartment with the knife behind his back. As he arrived at the door, he put his back to it and gazed out the peephole, only to see two officers standing outside.

The officer who appeared to be the one knocking was an older man. His face was square and rugged, with large bags drooping beneath his eyes and a poorly maintained mustache across his top lip, littered with gray hairs that showed his age. 

The officer next to him looked like a child by comparison. He was thin and clean shaven, his large blue eyes showing a youthful enthusiasm that his older partner lacked. He had longer, black hair which looked to be slicked back.

When Liu got a good look at the officers, he let out a long sigh of relief, putting the knife on his kitchen island and speaking to them from the other side of the door.

“H-hello? Who is out there?” He said in a weak, scared voice. There was a pause outside, with the two officers being heard saying something to each other quietly. Liu couldn’t quite make out what they were discussing before the older man spoke up.

“We’re with the CLPD. We’re here to ask you a few questions about your brother.” The officer said in a stern voice. The mention of his brother filled Liu with dread. He caught himself shaking again, and began taking long, deep breaths in four second intervals to try and calm himself down. Eventually he built up the courage to reply.

“Y-you finally found him?” Liu asked, barely able to hide his own excitement at the possibility the nightmare he was living through would be over. There was a long pause outside again, with the officers being heard speaking amongst themselves once more before the younger man spoke up.

“No, we haven’t found ‘em, that’s actually why we’re here. We were hopin’ you could help us.” He replied. Liu was now confused. He thought he’d told the police everything they’d needed to know years ago about his brother. Why were they back now? What could they possibly need to know? The questions sent his mind racing, fixating on every tiny detail that could be missing until one of the voices from outside interrupted his mental spiral.

“Are you still there?” The older man said, starting to sound concerned. Liu snapped out of it, and pulled the door open a small crack, showing himself to the officers. The moment the door opened he could see the sudden looks of shock that were displayed across their faces. The officers’ eyes went wide and Liu swore he saw the younger one’s jaw drop at the sight of him. It was the first time anyone had seen him in a while. Liu rarely left home, and in those countless hours he spent laying around, waiting for his brothers’ return he barely took care of himself. 

His long brown hair was matted and greasy, his eyes drooped down with deep, purple bags hanging low beneath them from the countless nights spent awake, and he wore the same green t-shirt for countless nights on end, not even mustering the mental strength needed to change. It was no wonder the two officers looked so shocked. 

The older cop was the first of the two to actually speak up, with his younger partner still trying to find the words. He simply asked for the two of them to come inside, to which Liu agreed, opening the door completely. Their shocked reactions to Liu’s appearance extended to that of his home, which with the lights on looked nothing like a proper living space.

The apartment was practically empty, with barely any furniture in sight aside from a worn out, used couch that looked like a hand me down of a hand me down. The floor was covered in all sorts of garbage and unwashed laundry, all of which the two officers made an effort not to step over in a strange attempt to be courteous. 

Liu turned over to them, awkwardly grabbing onto his left arm and saying “sorry about the mess,” in an almost sarcastic tone before taking a seat on his couch. The entire couch let out a loud creaking sound, as if the sudden weight put onto it would cause the entire thing to shatter. The two officers looked around for any kind of chairs they could seat themselves with, and upon noticing that the couch was their only option, chose to continue standing as they spoke to Liu. The older officer spoke first, properly introducing himself.

“Liu Woods, my name is Samuel Morgan. This here is my partner Norman Keller,” The younger one, Norman, gave a small, sad wave as his name was mentioned. “We’re sorry to disturb uh… Whatever it is you have going on here, but we were hoping to ask you a few questions about your brother.”

Liu looked up at Samuel, and asked him “I thought I already told your guys everything years ago. You promised me you’d find him, and then you told me time and time again that you were still looking. What more could you possibly have to ask?” As Liu asked the question, he saw the two officers shoot each other concerned glances before Norman spoke up.

“You uh, haven’t been keepin’ up with the news at all, have you?” Norman asked, scratching at the back of his head and avoiding eye contact. Liu looked confused between the two officers. He had no idea what they were trying to imply. He’d spent months isolating himself, only ever leaving his home when it was absolutely necessary. The fear of being followed was too great. In that time he barely kept up with anything, viewing it all as a distraction that could let his guard down.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, feeling the shaking sensation flush over his entire body once more. “W-what’s happened?”

There was another pause where the officers looked at each other as if quietly deciding who would break the news, before Samuel continued.

“There’s been a string of murders that have taken place over the last month, Liu. All men who have a similar description to yourself. My partner and I have strong suspicions that the culprit is your brother, Jeffrey Woods.”

Anxiety flooded through Liu’s body at the mere mention of his name. His legs curled into his chest, and he began violently hyperventilating there on the couch. The two officers walked forward, trying their hardest to calm Liu down, but at that moment he couldn’t even hear them. Their voices turned to white noise and Liu’s vision became blurred. Jeff is back. people are dying. It’s all my fault. Why? Why did I have to survive, if I’d just died that night then none of this would have-

Liu’s thoughts were interrupted as Samuel grabbed him by the shoulders, bringing him back to his senses. “Hey,” He said in a surprisingly soft, concerned voice, “You’re going to be ok. We’ll protect you. If this killer is your brother we promise we’ll-” Samuel tried to continue to reassure Liu, but was cut off.

“How did you find them?” Liu asked, staring down at the ground as he spoke. “The victims. How were they killed?”

“They were all killed in the middle a’ the night.” Norman said, “most found with their throats slashed. We spoke to a couple a’ witnesses, all of ‘em claimed our guy was a pale man in a white, dirty sweater with a big smile.”

Liu turned his gaze to Norman before responding in a near whisper “It’s him.”

Samuel tried to continue the discussion, with Liu’s simple response now peaking his interest even further. “That description matches your brother? You are sure.”

“I’m sure.” Liu doubled down, turning his gaze back to Samuel, his eyes now wide and piercing. Samuel took his hands off Liu’s shoulder and took a step back, now seating himself on the cleanest spot of the floor he could find. He leaned forward, trying to make sure that Liu paid very close attention to what he said next.

“Now listen, and listen well. If your brother really is our culprit, the only way we’re gonna catch him is if we know what he wants. We need to know everything you can tell us, Liu. Don’t spare a single detail.” Samuel explained. The room went quiet after that, with the two officers now waiting for Liu’s reply. Liu deliberated for a while over the request. The last time he trusted the police to find Jeff the case went cold for years. He’d spent all that time living in constant fear that someday his brother would come back. Fear he was forced to live in because they couldn't help him.

But today could be different. If Jeff is still out there for a fact, if he is actively hurting people, this could’ve been his opportunity to finally see an end to it. If he just trusted these two, he could finally begin to feel like his old self.

“Fine,” he finally said, making his decision. But there was a condition, something Liu needed the officers to follow through with no matter what. “But make me a promise.”

Norman was the first to step forward, replying before his partner could even consider the request. “Anythin’! Whatever you want, we’ll make it happen so long as you tell us what we need ta’ know!” 

“Promise me you’ll kill him.” The words that came out of Liu’s mouth sounded hollow and empty. Not an ounce of emotion or compassion could be felt. The two officers didn’t know how to respond at first, merely sitting in the tense silence that came from the request. It was Samuel who spoke up this time, giving Liu exactly what he asked for.

“We promise.” He said hesitantly. Norman looked down to him with a questioning stare. It was clear the two didn’t see eye to eye, but so long as Liu was given a promise from one of them he didn’t care.

“Ok then. I’ll tell you everything.”

Chapter 8: Liu Woods Continued

Life was hard for Jeff and I after the fire. In a single night it took everything from us. Our home, our belongings… Our father. When the house went ablaze he was the first to act, escorting all of us out of there before the flames completely consumed the building. But Jeff didn’t come out with us. A piece of debris had landed on him, crushing his left leg and trapping him inside . If it wasn’t for our father running in to save him, we would have lost Jeff that night. He had just enough time to lift the wooden plank that crushed Jeff before the entire house came down on him.

Jeff survived barely, but he was never the same after. His entire body was covered in third degree burns, especially his face. Months of reconstructive surgery barely did enough to get him looking like his old self. His entire face was covered in scar tissue, with the nerves around his mouth being so severely damaged he could barely even open it. His left eye had gone completely blind, having this milky white appearance to it, and what was left of his hair hung to his scalp in long black patches.

It took a while for us to figure out what our next step was. Our mother, Margaret, barely made enough to make ends meet, and Jeff was just starting college while I was finishing up highschool. We couldn’t afford a home like the one we had before, at least not on our own. We ended up moving to Carpenter’s Landing as a solution to that problem. Our aunt Marcy owned a plot of land here and offered to give it to us in light of everything that happened. She thought it was the least she could do after losing her brother, y’know?

We weren’t picky about the offer either. Afterall beggars can’t be choosers, and despite everything we heard about this place we thought it would be a fresh start for us. A chance to get away from the lives we had before. A chance to move on.

On our very first day in Carpenter’s Landing we got a good look at the new place we’d be living in. A small, rundown bungalow that hadn’t been lived in for years. By the time we stepped foot in there the paint was peeling off the walls and it looked like some druggies used it as a crack den. Burnt cigarette butts and broken glass littered the floor, and some of the windows had to be boarded up. Only reason we were there to see it in that state was because our mom wanted to help Aunt Marcy clean the place up before we moved in. 

Since they didn’t want us getting in the way, and mom wasn’t comfortable having her two teenage sons spending the whole day cleaning up used drugs and broken glass, she gave us some spending money and let us explore the whole town. I remember being super excited about the whole thing. After everything we’d gone through it felt wonderful just to get out and explore somewhere new. Jeff on the other hand was very apprehensive about the whole thing. Ever since his accident he was scared to go out in public, especially somewhere that no one knew him. He became much more reserved, often wearing this large, white sweater with the hood up at all times to hide his face.

I assured him that things would be ok, and he tagged along with me despite his worries. We spent that whole day riding around town on our shitty little bikes, taking in all the scenery we could. Every gray building, every dingy alley, every rundown gas station. We didn’t care where we were going, anywhere was good enough. At the end of the day, we stopped our sight seeing tour at this small convenience store downtown. I wanted to get some snacks for later that night and Jeff tagged along, waiting for me at the back of the store where nobody could see him.

That was where we had our first run in with this guy named Randy and his two buddies, Troy and Keith. Randy was the textbook definition of a generic bully. Guy dressed in this black leather jacket with ripped jeans and what looked like some kind of death metal shirt underneath. His long, brown hair was slicked back with gel, and his ears were covered in all kinds of piercings. 

The two guys with him, Troy and Keith, had a similar vibe to them. Troy was a bigger guy who wore a large, red sweater and had this short stubble all over his face. Keith was a shorter, scrawnier kid. He wore large, baggy black clothes and had a rough buzzcut that nearly went down to the scalp.

When we met these guys they were causing a ruckus in the store. Apparently the cashier caught one of them trying to sneak out a pack of cigarettes, and Randy didn’t take well to being told off. After they were done arguing, Randy eventually found it in himself to pay the ten bucks that was owed and he and his guys stormed out of the store.

When I went up to pay I was told that apparently that kind of thing was the usual for Randy and his gang. They were a bunch of troublemakers that were well known in town, bullying whoever they could and causing problems wherever they went. Apparently Randy always got away with it cause his dad was an officer at the time. I paid the cashier a little bit extra for the trouble, and as I was getting ready to walk out with Jeff I noticed out the store’s window that the three of them had decided to hang around outside to smoke. 

I asked Jeff to put his hood up and avoid being seen by them, and he agreed. If these guys were as bad as I was told, there was no way in hell I was about to let them see my brother and validate all his fears of leaving the house. Fate would have a different plan for us though, because as soon as we left the store Randy in particular took notice of us. 

He called out to us, bringing attention to his two lackeys that followed him around. “Hey, don’t think I’ve ever seen you two around here before,” he said, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground and stamping it out before approaching us. I remember I tried to be the one to hold a conversation with Randy, all the while Jeff nervously stood by our bikes facing away from him.

I tried to be polite, introducing myself and Jeff to Randy, but he was the kinda guy who didn’t care about that. To him we were just fresh meat to be picked on, and he particularly took an interest with Jeff.

“Why the hell won’t your brother look at me when I’m talkin’ to ‘em? Doesn’t he got any manners?” Randy asked, walking towards us with his hands in his pockets all the while Troy and Keith laughed at us behind him. During the whole conversation I would shoot these occasional glances over at Jeff to see how he was doing. 

He was shaking, staring at the ground with this wide eyed, empty stare like a deer in headlights. In his left hand was this lighter he carried around from back when he was smoking, one of his only possessions that survived the house fire. He would occasionally pull it out when he was stressed or nervous, fidgeting with the cap of it. That’s what he was doing when Randy grabbed a hold of his shoulder and turned him around, making him face him by force.

The three bullies all took turns giving their own shocked, disgusted reactions to Jeff’s appearance. Randy in particular had the strongest reaction of them all, stepping back in momentary horror which quickly devolved into mocking laughter.

“Man! No wonder you couldn’t look at me! What the fuck happened to you man?” Randy sounded amused as he asked the question, with Keith and Troy rudely laughing behind him as if to follow suit.

Before anyone could continue I spoke for Jeff, desperate to defend my brother from the situation that was now unfolding. 

“Th-there was a fire… Our old place, it burnt down. We were lucky that Jeff made it out alive!” I yelled in defiance, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Lucky?” Randy rebutted, “That’s what “lucky” looks like to you?” He pointed at Jeff, who now appeared to be boiling with rage. He clenched his open hand into a tight fist, and I saw his eyes go bloodshot.

“If I were you, I would have much preferred that fire take me out instead of making me look like some kind of-” Before Randy could even finish his insult, Jeff swung at him, hitting him cleanly across his face with a hefty punch. Randy reeled back and I immediately ran for Jeff, grabbing at his shoulders and trying to pull him back.

The whole thing turned to chaos after that, with the three guys jumping on Jeff and I, leading to this massive brawl right outside the convenience store parking lot. Whole thing got broken up when I noticed the cashier calling the cops from inside the store. I yelled that to the rest of the guys, and before I knew it Randy and his lackeys were out of there in an instant. 

Fortunately Jeff and I weren’t badly hurt by the whole thing, with only a few minor cuts and bruises being left where we were hit. When we got back to the new house that night our mom was of course concerned about the whole thing, but we just made up some lie about getting into an accident with our bikes instead of telling her what really happened. Our mom tended to worry a lot after the fire and we didn’t want her to stress too much about our new life here on our first day.

A month passed, and while our new house was properly renovated to allow us to live there decently comfortably, things did not get much easier for Jeff. He told me that Randy and his gang were relentless, especially after he started his college semester with them. They were harassing Jeff at practically every opportunity they got, with it getting so bad that one night Jeff went as far as to show me several knife wounds he had supposedly gotten from them attacking him off campus. 

He wouldn’t let me tell anyone about the bullying. He told me that it would only make mom want to get the police involved, and with the connections Randy had it would only make things worse. So I kept quiet about the whole thing, no matter how much it pained me to see my brother suffering like he did.

With all that in mind, I really should have seen the warning signs when Randy went missing only a month into our semester. I remember it as clear as day. His face was plastered on every telephone pole in town, news broadcasts were talking about it everywhere, and it was the talk of my school for weeks. If I knew then what I know now, I like to think that I would have suspected Jeff right away. But back then I just couldn’t fathom the possibility of it. After we lost our dad Jeff was the only person left in my life that I had felt like I was really close to. We still had our mom, yeah, but her and I were never particularly close by comparison.

That and I just didn’t have any reason to believe Jeff did it, y’know? Sure Randy and his guys bullied him, but Randy was also involved in some bad crowds of people. You could come up with any number of stories about what happened to him and people probably would have bought it at the time. So yeah, despite my mild suspicions of something being wrong, I buried those feelings and convinced myself it had to be someone else’s doing.

The same could not be said however for Troy and Keith, who only seemed to get worse after Randy’s death. I remember those two continued to go after Jeff long after, with the bullying going from cruel mockery to that of vengeful harassment.  Jeff told me they practically chased him down the halls of his school, calling him a murderer and yelling things like “we know what you did Woods,” any opportunity they got.

The harassment got so bad that Jeff started to completely isolate himself, missing countless days of classes and terrifying our mother. She tried to talk to him about it, but he was completely unresponsive, leading to her asking me to try and get through to him. I went to his room one night when our mom had already gone to sleep, and pushed his door open just a crack to see if he was still awake. Before I even saw him, I noticed the state that his room was in.

It looked terrible. Cardboard boxes from our move were still scattered about, their contents all over the floor in large, messy piles. Clothing, school supplies, old posters and figurines, everything cluttered the room like it had been thrown around violently. And then I noticed the smell. The entire room smelt foul, like burnt cigarettes and something else I couldn’t identify. The smell and sight of the room were so vile that I nearly missed Jeff himself, who I finally noticed at the foot of his bed, facing away from the door.

In the dark I didn’t know what it was he was doing at first, until I saw the brief flickering of his lighter burning the end of a cigarette. He would light the cigarette, staring at it for a short time like he was in some kind of trance, and then instead of smoking it like I expected he would roll up the sleeve of his white sweater and put it out on his own arm. I was so shocked by what I was watching that I just stood there in silence, mouth agape.

And that was when I heard him mumble something under his breath, something that made my heart sink to my stomach. He said in his raspy, strained voice, “Why was dad the only one who had to die…” 

The words didn’t sound right coming out of his mouth. They were empty, no, they were angry. He sounded livid as he continued to light those cigarettes, bringing them to his arm and leaving a new, disgusting burn scar where they were put out. I couldn’t bear to watch or listen anymore, so I flung the door open.

“Jeff, how could you say that!” I exclaimed. I didn’t even realize until I had entered the room that tears were streaming down my face. I must have looked like a mess. Jeff quickly turned to look at me, this look of horror plastered across his face once he realized that I had heard him. 

“Liu.. It’s, uh… It’s not what-” He tried quickly to explain himself to me but I wouldn’t let him.

“Do you know how much you mean to me? To mom? How could you go and say things like that about yourself, Jeff? I need you here, more than I have ever needed anyone! Living here I have never felt so alone, so isolated from everyone else. It was never the same without dad, you are the one thing keeping me sane right now.” I could barely keep myself together as the words flooded out of my mouth. I could see the terror on Jeff’s face slowly fade to a calmer expression as I explained myself to him, and for a little bit there was a tense silence between us as he carefully chose what to say next. I remember what he said to me as clear as day.

“I’m sorry, Liu, it’s just been hard. You and mom, I know you both lost dad too, but you… You haven’t had to deal with things like I have. You haven’t had to deal with being bullied every single day. You haven’t been accused of murder. And you don’t have to wake up every morning and see someone completely different staring back at you in the mirror. I’m sorry.” He avoided eye contact with me as he spoke, keeping his eyes trained on his lighter. He was fidgeting with it again. I could tell that what he said was something he had been bottling up for quite some time, and having to say it to me at all must have been stressful. 

I figured a change of scenery would help. He was cooped up in his room for multiple days on end and I figured some fresh air would help him.

“Do you remember when we used to sneak out at night back in middle school?” I asked him, changing the tone of our conversation drastically. He looked up at me shocked, tilting his head as he responded.

“Uh, yeah…?” He responded, humoring me.

“Well, mom is asleep right now and you and I are still up, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking!” I continued, making my way to the door and gesturing to it with my hands. 

Jeff stared at me like I was a moron, eventually rolling his eyes and getting out of bed. He knew I wasn’t about to take no for an answer, and I feel like he was also just playing along so that I wouldn’t continue worrying about him throughout the night. Regardless of why he agreed, Jeff and I snuck out that night and went around town on our bikes, making a point of sight seeing and traveling to places we’d never seen before.

I remember the rest of that night like it was yesterday. The bright city lights all around us, illuminating the streets like they were their own little suns, the massive buildings turned dark, towering silhouettes, and that cold night breeze that blew past us as we rode through the streets as fast as we wanted. 

If the night had ended right then and there, I feel like things could have been perfect. That was one of the few moments where it really felt like Jeff and I had properly bonded as brothers again. But of course, no good thing lasts forever, and our night very quickly took a turn for the worst as we realized we were being followed.

We’d stopped a couple streets from our house after making some laps around our neighborhood. I remember we’d stopped right by a stop sign on an intersection, with there being a light drizzle that signaled for us to start making our way back. Right as we were getting ready to leave though, a familiar pair of voices yelled out to us.

I quickly turned to look behind us, seeing Troy and Keith approaching. I almost didn’t recognize them at first. They’d looked so different from when we encountered them at the gas station. They both looked like they hadn’t slept in days, with Keith’s outfit looking filthy and Troy’s stubble having become a complete, poorly kept beard.

“Hey!” Troy shouted at us. “What you doin’ out here so late, Woods? Lookin’ for more victims?” When Troy spoke there was this growl to his voice. He sounded pissed, beyond pissed. He and Keith continued to approach, with Jeff and I not knowing how to respond or what to do. That was when we saw Troy reach into his pocket, and pull out a small switchblade he’d kept hidden there. 

The moment Jeff and I saw him unveil the blade, we tried to ride off on our bikes but the two guys were close enough that they were able to catch up and pull us off. There was a struggle between us, but it quickly stopped the moment I saw that Troy had the knife to Jeff's throat. I fell to my knees with Keith still firmly wrapping his arm around my throat, and I began to panic.

“P-please. Please don’t hurt him. He didn’t do anything to you.” I pleaded, terrified of what Troy was planning. My begging only seemed to make him angrier as he pulled Jeff in closer to him. Jeff struggled for a moment, kicking his feet and grabbing at Troy’s arm which held him in place, but quickly stopped once the blade made contact with his neck. 

“Didn’t do anything? Is that what he told you?” Troy said, staring at me with eyes that looked more like a wild animal’s than a man’s. He then turned his attention towards Jeff. “Why don’t you tell your little brother, Jeff? Why don’t you tell him what you did?”

Jeff never looked at Troy, instead continuing to stare at me the entire time even as he spoke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jeff responded, which only made Troy bring the knife closer. Now the faintest bit of blood could be seen running down Jeff’s neck as the knife broke skin. Jeff had no reaction.

“Bullshit! If you won’t tell him Jeff, then I will.” Troy shouted, now pointing the knife at me. “Your older brother never told you what he got up to at night, did he? Well Randy sure told us. Before he died, Randy went to Keith and I and told us that this freak was stalking him. Said he caught him off the corner of his eye, following him outside of school. He was scared, man, and we had never seen Randy scared. He even told us a couple nights before he died that he saw your brother here standing outside his house!” 

I didn’t know what to make of what they were telling me, they sounded insane. Here they were in the middle of the night, probably stalking us, pointing a knife at my brother and accusing him of killing Randy? I couldn’t believe it, no, I REFUSED to believe it. Troy continued though, and as he did I could see the panic setting into Jeff’s eyes.

“We didn’t believe him at the time. We thought that he was messin’ with us or somethin’. But then, a couple days later he goes missin’ and we have no idea where he could have gone. If we’d just listened to ‘em, maybe he’d still be here. If we’d just listened, then this freak could be behind bars right now! But we didn’t, and now we gotta make up for it.” As he said that, Troy pointed the knife at Jeff once more who began kicking his feet and struggling again. He looked terrified. 

“Ok ok it’s true!” Jeff shouted at a volume I didn’t even think possible. “I killed him, I killed Randy. But I wasn’t stalking him! It was self defense, Liu! He attacked me in an alley when I was just trying to go home! He pulled a knife on me and tried to kill me! I only got away because I wrestled it out of his hands and stabbed him with it!” I had never heard Jeff speak that way before, even before the accident. His voice was shrill and shaken, his eyes large and dilated. 

“Self defense my ass!” Keith chimed in, “If it was self defense, then why did you run? Why didn’t they find Randy, huh?” 

“Because I was scared! I knew Randy’s dad was an officer, I didn’t think anyone would believe me! So I hid the body and I ran away!” Jeff blurted out, keeping his eyes trained on me. Despite the fact that Troy was the one threatening his life, the entire time it felt more like Jeff was trying to convince me of his innocence than anyone else out there that night. I just sat in silence, I didn’t know what to do or what to think anymore. Troy answered for me though, the look of fury never leaving his face.

“You can say whatever you want, freak, but I don’t believe you.” He said. His voice sounded calmer than before, almost a whisper, but the rage never left it. I don’t know what he was planning on doing to Jeff, but I never got to find out as police sirens could be heard quickly approaching. 

Turns out one of our neighbors saw what was going on from inside her house and she decided to call the police before anyone could get hurt. An officer quickly arrived on scene and broke up the entire thing before Troy or Keith could do anything. Everything after that passed by in a blur. Troy and Keith were arrested right then and there, and the entire time they were escorted to the car they were kicking and screaming all kinds of insults and profanity at us. Once they were taken care of, an officer stuck by to ask some questions to Jeff and I about what happened.

He asked why the two of them attacked us, and Jeff froze up completely. I could see the fear written all over his expression. He probably thought I was going to tell the officer what the other two had told me. But truth be told, I believed him. Maybe it was my naivety, or the desperation in his voice when he confessed to me, but I really, truly believed that if my brother had killed Randy, it was for a good reason.

And so I lied to the officer. Told him nothing about Jeff’s confession, about the truth of Randy’s disappearance. That night was the first night in months where I felt like I had my brother back, and I was not about to lose him again because of some massive misunderstanding. I told the officer a half truth, explaining that Troy and Keith were friends with Randy and that they blamed my brother for the disappearances. When he pressed further, all I said was that they used to bully Jeff, and convinced themselves it was his fault when Randy disappeared. 

The officer seemed to like my answers. He nodded along as I explained things, paying close attention to the words I chose, and eventually he seemed satisfied. He let us off with a warning about going out at night, and asked if he could come back in the morning to ask us some additional questions about the two bullies. Once I agreed, the officer simply tipped his hat to us and we were let go. 

I thought it was a miracle, the two of us being sent home like that after I had told such a massive lie, but I think Jeff saw things differently. Maybe it was the demeanor of the officer, perhaps his own paranoia, but Jeff was convinced that the officer was onto us. That the “additional questions” he wanted to ask in the morning had nothing to do with the bullies, but rather Jeff’s involvement in Randy’s disappearance. 

The ride home after that felt like I was walking on eggshells. I didn’t dare speak to Jeff. He was unusually quiet, even for himself, and the entire time we rode our bikes he simply stared ahead. He never looked at me, nor do I even think he was looking at the road. He just stared ahead into nothing.

When we arrived at home he stormed inside, with no regard for our sleeping mother who may be startled awake by him. I was worried, I’d never seen my brother like that, so I followed him as he made his way towards his room. What followed next was the single most horrifying moment of my entire life. 

He slammed open the door to his room, made his way inside, and began what I could only describe as an adult temper tantrum. He grabbed a hold of whatever he could get his hands on and began violently throwing them around his room, thrashing about in a near feral rage. I don’t think he was even aware of me being there to see it, he just continued doing so until he got a hold of one box in particular, which he violently threw against the wall. The contents of the box spilled out on the floor, revealing more clothing and school supplies which were haphazardly stored in it. Among this pile of random, innocuous items however, I heard something that instantly drew my attention to the floor, and made Jeff completely stop in his place.

The sound of metal rattling against the wooden floor. I looked down, and saw that buried underneath the clothing and supplies which were stored inside that box was a small switchblade, which looked to be covered in dried, crusty blood. My mind began to race at the sight of it. I had no idea why my brother would have kept Randy’s knife in our house, so poorly hidden underneath all his untouched clothing and supplies. 

“Jeff, why would you keep Randy’s knife?” I asked, and I turned my gaze from the knife to him, desperate for an answer. What I saw staring back at me was someone completely different from my brother. He stood in the center of the room, completely frozen in place, with a hollow, soulless stare I had never seen from my brother- no, from a person before. His eyes were opened unnaturally wide, almost looking as if something was forcing them to stay open. He didn’t blink, and the pupil of his right eye was so dilated that it almost made his entire eye look black.

That stare told me more than any words ever could. It told me that in this moment of weakness that Jeff had shown me something I never wanted to see, and the thought of that brought me a greater terror than anything else. I began to question him further, desperate for an answer, desperate for anything he could say to put my panicked mind to rest.

“Jeff, why did you keep this knife?” He continued to stare. “J-Jeff, this was Randy’s knife, right?” He continued to stare. “Jeff…” I was so overwhelmed I could barely get the words out, “Jeff… Those cuts on your body. Randy didn’t give them to you, did he?” He continued to stare.

At that point I didn’t even know who it was I was talking to anymore. I turned a blind eye to my suspicions for so long, but right there, in the middle of that dark room, was someone I didn’t even recognize as my brother anymore. For a brief moment, while I stood there in complete shock and terror, I could see his demeanor change to that of something inhuman. He hunched forward, and looked as though he was going to advance towards me before our mother’s tired voice could be heard from behind me.

“Boys, what’s wrong?” She asked. It was clear from the way she was rubbing her eyes and the way she spoke that we had just woken her from her sleep. Jeff never once looked away from me, not even reacting to the sound of our mother’s voice. He just continued moving towards me like some kind of animal, taking large exaggerated footsteps.

I ran out of Jeff’s room, and tried to usher our mom out of the house before I could even explain what was going on. I didn’t know what was wrong with Jeff, but there was no way I was going to spend the night in that house after what I saw. Our mother, however, stopped me dead in my tracks and demanded an explanation about what was wrong. I couldn’t offer much. I was in such a panicked state that I trampled over my own words. All I managed to muster up was “Something is wrong with Jeff,” before I noticed him standing in the darkness of the hallway behind us. He held the switchblade in his hand, and remained motionless, waiting for what our mom or I would do next.

When our mom saw him, she didn’t recognize the danger her and I were in. She tried to reason with him.

“Jeff, honey, what’s wrong? Why are you holding that knife?” She asked. I remember from the way she spoke, she sounded more concerned than afraid. I don’t think she ever imagined her own son could do anything to harm her, so in that moment, despite how it looked, she didn’t see any danger to herself. 

Jeff never responded. He simply remained frozen in place. Our mother continued trying to get through to him. I tried stopping her, but she refused to listen to my warnings. She didn’t see what I saw, she didn’t know what I knew. All she knew was that something was wrong with her son, and despite everything she wanted nothing more than to help him. And so she marched forward into what would become her own demise.

The moment she took a step forward, reaching for Jeff, he suddenly sprang into action at a speed I never thought possible for someone like him. He quickly wrestled her to the ground, overpowering her completely. Once she was down, Jeff knelt down on top of her, holding the switchblade over his head with both hands.

She pleaded with him in her last moments, yelling things like “Why are you doing this,” and “What could I have done, Jeff,” but her questions fell on deaf ears. Before she was even able to finish her thought, Jeff plunged the switchblade deep into the side of her throat. Thick, dark blood ran down the blade, pooling on the floor beneath her and slowly creeping towards me. I stood there in stunned terror.

What I saw in front of me didn’t feel real. Earlier that night was the happiest I’d been in months. It felt like I’d finally had my brother back, and the two of us could be the carefree kids we were back before our lives fell apart. And now, on that same night, I saw the man I considered my brother knelt down, knife in hand, waiting for his own mother to drown in her own blood.

The worst part of it all too, was that he didn’t even have the decency to look at her while he did it. The entire time our mother laid there, pleading to see even a semblance of the person Jeff was to her, he was looking at me. He stared at me with that same empty, soulless look I saw only moments prior. As if to tell me that somehow, by some twisted logic, what I was watching unfold before me was my fault.

When the life finally left our mother’s eyes and the gurgling and coughing came to a stop, Jeff clumsily attempted to pull the knife from her throat. He was met with a surprising amount of resistance. He’d lodged it so far in there that it took multiple, strong tugs to pull it out, so much so that when he finally did it caused him to stumble backwards for a moment. Then he began advancing towards me once more.

He moved in that same, alien way I saw in his bedroom. He slowly inched his way towards me, taking long exaggerated steps, only stopping briefly when I would show any sudden movements. I was so shocked by what I had just seen that my legs turned to jelly, and I crumbled to the floor. As I pathetically attempted to crawl away from Jeff, I desperately tried to say something, anything that would make him explain to me why he was doing this. 

The only thing I could muster was the word “why?” which I choked out between my tears. It was enough to make him stop, as if the very question offended him. He then said something that changed everything for me.

“Why..?” He replied sarcastically, his eyes twitching. “Because you ruined everything, Liu.” He knelt down next to me as he spoke, blocking the exit to the house with his body. “You just had to survive that night, didn’t you? You just had to smell the fire. You just had to wake mom and dad. All those months of planning, ruined. It would have been perfect, Liu, we all could have died together. But no. You and mom survived, and I was stuck like this.” 

It was then that I understood the true depths of what my brother was. As I sat mere feet away from my own mother’s corpse, Jeff crouched over top of me, it finally dawned on me why this was all happening. I’d spent so long trying to pin a reason on it. To find what the inciting incident was, the moment that bent my brother’s life out of shape. But there never was one. It wasn’t the bullies, it wasn’t our dad, it wasn’t the fire. It was Jeff. It was always Jeff. I was living with a monster wearing human skin for my whole life, and only when it was too late did I finally realize it.

He continued his depraved rant, as if he’d rehearsed it for months on end. “Do you know what it’s like? To spend every single day trapped in a shell of your own body, being babied by the people you couldn’t kill? Do you understand how humiliating that is? It’s like there really is a god up there, mocking me for my failure. Well, I didn’t plan on failing this time. I spent months thinking about that night, what I could have done differently, how much it hurt. Reliving that pain, even in the smallest of ways, helped me figure it out though.

It was going to be perfect, Liu. But you ruined it again. You just had to keep babying me. You just had to be such a shitty liar. You made me do this. You made me act early, and sloppily. That’s ok though. This is still going to be the happiest night of my life! Oh if I could smile right now, Liu, I’d be grinning ear to ear!” 

After he finished his rant, he stood again and wrapped his arms around himself in pure ecstasy, rocking back and forth. Over and over again he said to himself “if only I could smile, if only I could smile,” before he suddenly stopped, a look of realization plastered all over his face. He glanced down at the knife in his hand, our mother’s fresh blood still trickling off of it, then he glanced back at me before saying, “I can smile.”

That was when he took the knife to his own face, and I was forced to watch him crudely carve a disgusting smile of blood across it. He was clumsy with the knife, tugging across each of his cheeks like a child carving a pumpkin. There were moments where he’d stop, gagging and coughing on his own blood, but he continued regardless until a vile, painful smile stretched across his face, ear to ear.

The sight of such a horrific act of self mutilation was enough for me to break free from the shocked trance I was in. I sprinted in the opposite direction of Jeff, towards the hall where our bedrooms were. Jeff gave me a head start, distracted by the euphoria of his new face, and I took that opportunity to run into his room. Jeff’s room was the first one you would see when entering the hallway, and I believed that if I hid in there I could find something, anything to defend myself with.

I flung the door open, nearly trampled over all of the miscellaneous items strewn about on the floor, and made my way into his closet to hide. At that point I could hear him beginning to walk around the house again, calling out my name in a voice that barely sounded human. 

I began to frantically look around the dark closet, pushing aside whatever clothing or boxes were in my way. That was when I noticed the smell again. That same stench I smelt earlier that night when I’d walked into Jeff’s room. I thought it was just the smell of the cigarettes before, but inside that closet it was much stronger. I pushed aside more unclean laundry, hoping to discover the origin of the smell, when I found it buried deep within a corner of the closet. Multiple, small cans of gasoline which were neatly hidden away. Around them were several boxes of matches, as well as some burnt out cigarette butts. 

The sight and smell of them were enough to make me gag, a sound that I feared revealed my hiding place to Jeff. I needed to be quick, to find something, anything that I could use to fight back once he found me. I kept searching until I got my hands on his old backpack, opening it and looking through whatever supplies he kept in there. I found old notebooks, unopened packs of cigarettes, and what ended up catching my attention, what looked to be a box cutter.

I took the box cutter out, opening it and turning to the closet door to wait for Jeff’s arrival. What I was greeted with however, was something from my worst nightmares. Jeff was already there, standing at the entrance to the closet, the door opened just enough that I could see one of his bloodshot eyes peering in at me from the darkness. When I saw him I let out a shrill scream, and he began laughing to himself as he flung the door open and attempted to pin me to the ground right then and there. 

I struggled against him, swinging the box cutter wildly before he overpowered me, holding down my arm with his right hand and dancing the switchblade against my face with his left. I remember how I was screaming and crying in that moment, all the while the man trying to kill me attempted to soothe me like a mother would their child.

He got right up close to me, the blood from his fresh wounds dripping onto my face causing me to gag, and said something to me that I still hear in the back of my mind every night.

“Shhhhhh, it’ll be alright, Liu. When you next wake up, we’re gonna see mom and dad again. Just go to sleep.” He then raised the switchblade over his head like he did before when he killed our mother, but right before he could swing down to finish me I kicked him off of me with all the strength I could muster, and I stabbed him in the side of the throat with the box cutter. 

As soon as I’d done that, I made a mad dash for the door to our home, running out into the night and screaming for someone, anyone to help me. I never bothered to check if Jeff was alive or still following me, I just ran and ran until my legs gave way and one of our neighbors found me. 

The police were called soon after. They went to our old home to investigate and found no signs of Jeff anywhere. I was told that they would find him. That he would be brought to justice. But two years have passed and Jeff was never caught. I’ve spent those two years living in constant fear that he will return and find me. I’ve begun sleeping during the day, I don’t talk to anybody, I sleep with a knife beneath my pillow. It seemed like all you officers moved on from finding my brother, but I never could. And now you come to my doorstep, telling me that he could be back and he’s killing people that look just like me. Now we’re all suffering because he wasn’t caught.

When Liu finished his story, the entire room fell dreadfully quiet. The two officers clearly didn’t know what to say, simply taking in all the details and trying to process them. Samuel was the first to speak, making what Liu saw as a weak attempt at reassurance.

“Liu, I’m sorry we never found your brother. I promise you though, no matter what, that we will find him. You won’t have to live like this anymore. You won’t have to be afraid of him coming back. Soon, all of that will be over.” The two officers stood after that, asking Liu if he had anything else to tell them. He simply shook his head, and not long after they made their way out. 

Liu wanted to believe what Samuel had to say. It was clear the man cared. But after two years of Jeff having never been found, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Once the two men were gone from his house, the tiredness hit Liu all at once. He was woken after only two hours of sleep, and he had no intentions of waiting until nightfall to get his rest.

He made his way back to his room, peeking around the dark corners of his apartment one last time before opening the door to his bedroom and stepping back inside. He laid down on his old, yellowed mattress, tossing and turning as he tried his hardest to force himself back to sleep. But try as he might, he just couldn’t do it. Something just didn’t feel right.

After twenty minutes of failed attempts to force himself to sleep, Liu finally sat up in his bed and surveyed his room. He knew something was wrong but he just couldn’t pinpoint it.  He scanned his surroundings, obsessively looking for anything that could be out of place, and that was when he noticed it. The detail that he was subconsciously aware of, but didn’t take direct note of until that very moment. A mild draft that lightly pushed against his curtains. Liu always kept his windows closed. 

He tried to shuffle out of bed, immediately digging around under his pillow to grab his switchblade only to realize he had left it in the kitchen when the officers had visited. He ran over to the window, slamming it closed, when he heard something behind him. The slow, high pitched sound of a door creaking. Liu turned to see the origin of the sound, and was met with his worst fear come true.

There, peering through the small crack left by the opening of his closet door, was an eye. A bloodshot eye that stared at him from the darkness. A voice muttered in a hushed, perverted whisper, “You found me.” 

Chapter 9: Jeff the Killer

Jeff waited impatiently inside of his brother’s closet. He could hear the officers pestering Liu with question after question, completely unaware that the man they were looking for was a mere room away from them. 

They had led Jeff to his brother’s apartment. They had no idea that he was still there at the scene of his last crime. The corpse of his latest victim was still fresh, another fake Liu to add to the pile. Jeff knew if he’d followed the officers they could bring him to the real one with time. He was well aware of his own notoriety, and used it to his advantage.

He laid in wait, watching from the darkness as the two officers speculated over his murders. Apparently the fake Liu’s that got away started talking, and with that they would give the officers the lead they needed. To some this would seem like a set back, but to Jeff, this was his perfect opportunity. Those fake Lius would lead Jeff right to the real one, and they didn’t even realize it.

When he’d arrived at the apartment complex, Jeff could barely contain his own excitement. There, standing before him inside his own concrete coffin, was the brother he’d been searching for. After two painful years of hiding in the darkness, planning his next move, finally it would all come to an end.

Jeff made quick work climbing in through the window to the real Liu’s bedroom. He was lucky the officers arrived when they did. It gave him the distraction he needed to slink inside. He made his way into his brother’s closet with ease, and simply waited for the moment the officers would leave. 

As he listened through the walls intently, Jeff could hear his brother’s account of the night he failed once again to accomplish his life’s work. The very thought of it drove him mad. Jeff began fidgeting with his lighter once more, the images of beautiful burning flames dancing through his mind as he attempted to calm himself. What he would give right here, right now, to see this entire building up in flames. But he couldn’t afford something so grand, not this time.

Liu had evaded him twice now, and Jeff’s obsession with completing what he started began to eat away at him. Those fake Lius didn’t help either. They popped up around every corner, fake Liu after fake Liu, purposefully put there to throw Jeff off his brother’s trail. How selfish could he be? To sacrifice so many people just so he could live a little longer. 

He fidgeted with the lighter more, and gritted his teeth at the thought. How selfish, he repeated over and over in his mind. The thoughts nearly consumed him completely, until he was snapped out of it by what sounded like the officers finally taking their leave. Jeff could hear the door shut behind them, and soon enough his brother stumbled into the room and laid in bed.

Finally Jeff thought. His life’s work was now mere feet away from him and Liu didn’t even realize it. The excitement felt like a raging fire within Jeff’s chest. His palms sweat, his heart pounded, his eyes burned as tears of joy formed around them. But he had to contain himself. He had to wait. Wait until Liu had fallen asleep. 

But that moment never came. Jeff watched for what felt like hours as his brother tossed and turned in bed. And then he watched as he slowly sat up, glancing around the room as if something was off. Jeff was confused. What could possibly have tipped his brother off? He was completely silent, and fought off his urges to show himself right then and there for the sake of subtlety. What could it have possibly been?

Jeff deliberated over this question, until Liu, unbeknownst to himself, answered it for him. The window. Jeff was so eager to get into the house that he never closed the window. This was an oversight he’d made before, his own eagerness often being his worst enemy. How could he have done this now? How could he have made such a simple mistake when he was so close to perfection?

As his brother rose from bed to close the window, Jeff could see him looking around for something that seemingly wasn’t there. A weapon? Did his brother bring a weapon? A sharp pain suddenly jolted throughout the side of Jeff’s throat, memories from that night forcing their way back into his mind. The rage began to boil in the deepest pit of his stomach once more. He could barely control it this time, opening the closet door but a crack as his brother went to close the window.

The door let out a small, shrill, creak, and Jeff saw Liu freeze up. His cover was blown, no matter how hard he tried to recover from this. Now was his time to act. He could see Liu slowly turn to meet his gaze, and for the first time in two years, Jeff could see the terror in the real Liu’s face again. 

“You found me,” he said, barely able to contain his own excitement. This was it. The moment where everything would come to an end. The moment he’d waited so long for. Jeff slowly crept out of the closet to meet his brother face to face, and without a moment of hesitation he saw Liu fling open the door to his bedroom and run out of his room. 

Jeff gave chase, giving his brother a head start before pursuing him into the kitchen where he saw him standing over the island. Jeff turned him around, and a struggle broke out between the two. Liu put up a good fight, but Jeff was always stronger, and soon enough he had his brother pinned down in a similar manner to when they’d last seen each other two years ago. Jeff laughed to himself as Liu attempted in vain to shove his brother off of him. He pulled out the box cutter that Liu had stabbed him with all that time ago, and he raised it over his head, ready to finally end this once and for all. But something distracted him before he could swing down. The light glint of metal in Liu’s hand. A knife? When did he get his hands on that knife?

In a panic Jeff tried to finish the job, swinging down at his brother’s throat all the while Liu attempted to stab his brother with the switchblade he had concealed. When the blades connected with flesh, there was a long, drawn out silence.

That day, only one of the two brothers walked away alive.

[luxybearstudio]

The Shadow of The Hare

SPOOKY MONTH BE UPON YE

[luxybearstudio]

perfect new meme template just dropped

[luxybearstudio]

02

My friend showed me more on this site today! She also got me some cool markers :3 (drawing with them at the end) Is it normal to almost pull an all nighter just scrolling on here? Also I finally cleaned and organized my desk! hopefully I'll actually use it. theres so many places in this house that I still need to clean and organize. It's kinda weird to be living in the house I was born in, especially after so long. Theres a lot of rooms that I don't know what to do with, theres even an attic and a basement! i guess its nice to have a place of my own where i only have to worry about utilities... I looked at rent prices out of curiosity and MY GOD I am quite fortunate. Had a weird dream last night, probably need to go to bed earlier :)

[luxybearstudio]

01

Hello, a friend showed me this website after hearing that I've never really had a social media before! I thought that this might be a good place to kind of get my thoughts and emotions down somewhere OTHER than my college sketchbooks. (My teachers are getting a touch concerned)

I guess a good place to start is an introduction! My name is Lux Rivera, I am 19 years old, I live in my birth families old home in Colorado and am currently going to collage for Art and Design. Other then that I enjoy photography, nature, drawing, and retro style games music and media! Think care-bears and generation 3 my little pony. Oh! and I have Adhd and some other neurological issues that i am currently working through :) if you care about that kind of thing.

uhh heres a doodle I did in art history I guess :3 (i really like these face things my friend showed me!)

[luxybearstudio]

I love FNAF but specifically the version of it that I invented in my head

[luxybearstudio]

[luxybearstudio]

Anyone else stare at their mutuals like 👀👀👀👀 “please dm me. You seem so cool and I wanna be friends. “

[luxybearstudio]

put a "∞" in my ask box and I'll shuffle my music player and give you my favorite lyric from the song that comes up.

[luxybearstudio]

admire folks who reblog posts which contradict eachother. exactly! keep em guessing

[luxybearstudio]

fuck people who reblog posts which contradict each other. no! be explicitly clear

[luxybearstudio]

Actually, people are good by nature and you’re a fool if you think otherwise.

[luxybearstudio]

cherry ghoap

[luxybearstudio]

Soap having to emergency fill in for a demo guy on a mission. He wasn't on demo for this one, he was needed on sniper along with Ghost and Gaz to cover price and the ground team and demo team he was leading. The goal was the blow the entire location skyhigh, but it wouldn't be an easy job. Not with the high amount of enemy soldiers, or the sheer mass and density of the building making it so that they would need to plant charges from the inside as well as the outside.

The demo guy goes down inside while soap, gaz, and ghost can't see them. They'd been keeping the outside backup at bay when price's voice fed through the radio.

"Soap. Our demo guy is KIA, need you down here NOW!"

"Aye, Sir. On my way." The urgency in the man's voice told him that they were running low on time (not that he didn't already know that. He was counting seconds. Always was.) He abandoned his sniper with little fineness, Ghost or Gaz would get it for him.

Ghost and Gaz covered him on his way down. He shucked his gloves on the way, throwing them carelessly to the ground, didn't bother going for cover, they were on a very real time limit with the fixed timer on the charges. It wasn't an ideal situation, and ordinarily they wouldn't have such a thing, but just the night before they'd caught someone tampering with the explosives. It had fucked up the wiring, and the closest to good they he could fix it was a fixed timer because he couldn't get them to communicate with the detonator anymore.

The actual inside of the building was large. Much more winding and dense than breifing said it would be. That was a problem. A big, huge, major problem. Because now they didn't have enough power to blow it all.

And it turns out to be an even bigger problem because when he got to price he realizes that the amount of explosives they had brought wasn't going to be enough in the first place.

"Shit." He hadn't been included in the demo planning, it hadn't been necessary. But now he sees that it was, because whatever calculations had been done were wrong. Even being off by .01 of anything was near fatal with the stuff they were working with.

"What? What's wrong?" Price was even more urgent now.

"There's not enough." He said, setting the first one he picked up, it was further from the last one that had been set before him than he'd have liked.

"Can you make it work?" Price says in, what soap always called, his captain voice. Soap pauses for a moment after that, running mental calculations.

"Maybe?" He wasn't entirely confident to be completely honest, "we'd have to go back and re-do all the ones that have already been set." He curses internally, mentally smiting whoever didn't include him in the demo meeting.

Price sent a soldier off to go collect the set charges, but soap only let them off with very clear instructions on how to do so.

Soap sent price and the rest of the soldiers off without him to finish collecting the data they had been looking for. He worked in silence for a while. If he was lucky (he doubts), it the soldier that price sent off came back with more charges than soap expected, he would be able to just barely make it stretch.

He wasn't so lucky. He sent the soldier after price. He flipped his radio on.

"Ghost, go to channel 2." He switches his own radio to channel 2.

"You solid, Johnny?"

"There's not enough." He was not panicking. Soap doesn't panic. And definitely not on the field. If he did it would be in the dead of night where nobody could find him.

"What's not?" Ghost was calm, solid as a rock. Soap liked that, won't deny needing a win, even if it was as small as Ghost being his normal self.

"Charges." He moves up the hall to work on the next one, "whoever did the calculations did a bang up job, there's barely enough to stretch from the original plan, and the inside is a lot bigger than we thought. Fucking bullshit."

"You weren't workin' with demo on this?" Ghost sounded confused, "I was given an optional attendance." Ah, that explained it. And- GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT.

"Nae. At this point it seems more like a big fuckin' joke that I'm nae in on, than it does a tactical operation." Soap was seething, it was like the gods had something personal against him, but he kept his head.

"Seems like they all hate you, Johnny." Ghost hummed cheekily. Soap couldn't help the chuckle he let out. Leave it up to Ghost to still be a bastard despite it all.

"Awh, c'mon, L.T. you'd never let them all hate me now would ya?"

"Well, I don't completely hate you if it make you feel better." He could hear Ghost's smirk even through the radio.

"Aye, sir, gets me all warm and fuzzy inside, I'll buy you a drink to keep in your good graces after this."

"Assuming you live."

"Assuming I live." Soap parroted

"Can you make it work?"

"No. Not unless you've got some secret magic powers I dinnae know about, sir." He grumbled.

"Not for you, sergeant." Ghost told him. Bastard.

"Bastard." He huffed, amused.

"You still workin' on it?"

"Aye, I'm gonna blow the supports. If it goes right- better hope that it does- it'll bring the whole top crashin' down." He imitated the well-loved sound of the boom and crash he was hoping for, "if the brass wants it gone though, they'll have to send someone back. Hopefully someone competent this time." He was already halfway through the charges, and that was with a generous amount of spacing that he didn't like too much, but it would do, he had to get around to the other side of the building. He glanced at the timer, seven minutesticking down, he'd have to move fast if he wanted to get out in time, his thumb flipped his comms unit to channel the main channel.

"Price, keep an eye on the time." They all had their watches set to the timer so they could keep track. He switched back to channel 2 as soon as he got an affirmative. "Ghost, mind me at the two minute mark, aye?"

"Copy that." Came the steady manc accented response.

"Ya'know what's on my bucket list, L.T.?"

"What?"

"One day I want an OP that goes smooth start to finish."

"A steep ask."

"I felt inspired." He could hear the shrug in his own voice, and there was a breathy laugh in his ear.

Usually he's excellent at keeping track of his time, but this time he was still running minor calculations to every charge he set, making sure they were in the best spot possible. Which meant that when Ghost interrupted his mutterings with a tense "two minutes, Sargeant.", he had only just started on the last quarter of the explosives he had left.

"Shit." He chewed on his lip, using precious seconds to think. He could see the stairs to the exit at the end of the hallway, maybe 200 yards away, but there was still had 6 charges left. Fuckit, no more time for thinking, his gut's never let him down so far, he trusts that it won't this time either. "You see Price? Is he out?"

He wired the charge in his hands in two paces, placed it in six, started on the next.

"Negative. I've got no visual. I need you out of that building, now, Johnny." Ghost went silent after that, but soap was too busy to worry about that.

Shit.

He was almost halfway down the hall when he placed the next charge. Three charges left. The next charge went on in seven paces. The last two went up on either side of the stairs. His lungs burned as he took the steps two at a time. A glance at his watch showed 48 seconds left. The stairs seemed to go on forever. He would not be making it to a safe distance, he'd be lucky to get out of the building.

"I've got Price, Need eyes on you, now." Ghost sounded in his ear. He had not enough air in his lungs to respond, squeezing every cell of blood of its oxygen to keep himself moving.

10 seconds, he could see the door, it was big, and green, and had one of those push bar handles.

9 seconds, his foot slipped, his knee met the unforgiving corner of concrete, and his ankle twisted.

8 seconds, he caught himself.

7 seconds, pain lit up in his ankle. He kept going

6 seconds, he'd halved the distance to the door

5, he could see himself reaching the door already

4, he had an arm out to catch the push bar

3, he made contact

2, fresh air hit his face

1, he was running. It was like every molecule knew what was coming, like every building block of space was waiting for it. He could feel the charge it in every fiber of his being.

0, he dove for the ground, tucking himself in, harms coming up over his head. He didn't even feel it before it all slammed into him like a freight train. But he knew it was coming, knew it like a sixth sense, knew it like knowing the sky was blue without even looking up.

His ears rang. He hadn't realized before. The ringing in his ears was intense, almost overwhelming. Every thing hurt when he uncurled. His fands were stiff whe he flexed them, it looked like he was piloting a robot instead of his own body, he felt it all but from a distance. The world was bathed in gray. His mouth was dry, it tasted bitter as he smacked his lips together.

Something...

There was something... wrong? Or- he needed to do something? He flexed his fingers again. The world looked frozen. Like even the trees were looking at him, whispering that he was dead. Maybe he was, he couldn't be sure. Uncoordinated movements managed to wobble himself to standing. His back. Something on his back. It hurt. But he couldn't feel it. A hand went to his throbbing, and he stumbled a few step before he collapsed. He was tired. He was breathing but he couldn't feel it in his lungs, knew his chest was moving with it though. Maybe he wasn't breathing. He couldn't feel it. He should breathe, he focused on that. But he was so tired. Maybe too tired. Maybe he didn't need to breathe all that bad. He could just.. he was.. everything hurt. He wasn't breathing, except for his moving chest. It's okay. He'll just.. close his eyes. He'll try breathing again when he woke up again. When everything hurt less. It'll hurt less.

---

It didn't hurt less when he woke up again. It hurt more. A lot more actually. He felt his mouth open with out his command, sound left but he didn't hear it. And he couldn't tell if the incessant, ear-blinding ringing was him or if the world around him had gobe silent in lieu of the ringing.

It was a moment before he realized his eyes were open. The world was still covered in gray powder. Ghost's mask comes into view, it moves like he's speaking, but he's not making any sound. Soap thinks about telling him as much, to turn on his voice, but the world hurts, or maybe he hurts, and either way, it's easier to just close his eyes.

---

A hand smacks his face, he see brown eyes first, gaz's mouth is moving.

A glimpse of green rushing past, but black invades and he lets it happen.

The next thing he blinks and there's white, swishing, lots of it. Coats he realizes. Doctor's. A lot of them. He turns his head, it saps his strength, and the last thing he sees before his eyes close are mouths moving in muted shouts.

He blinks again and he's greeted with blinding white. He's moving. Not with his own two legs. It's fast. It makes him sick. He feels frantic hands on him and then his mouth opens, he feels contents leave him. And then he's being rolled back over. It's too much. He welcomes the dark of unconsciousness again.

---

He wakes slowly, there's a thin stream of air that chills his nose, he can feel cords on him but it would take more effort than it's worth to rip them off, uncomfortable as they were. So a hospital. If it wasn't obvious that was here he was, then it could be the plastic guard rails, or that he could see the edge of a very hospital-esq desk right outside the cracked open hospital-esq door where white flourenscent hospital-esq light leaked through.

It's dark when he opens his eyes. Not terribly so, there's a window that lets in moonlight, but dark enough that his eyes don't burn. There's a figure in the corner of his eye, and when he turns it's Ghost. Slumped down, arms crossed, sleeping. He's wearing one of the balaclavas with the narly faded skull, and the eye black he usually wears looks rubbed off, but not washed off, he can still see evidence of its remains. He looks tired, sporting a twin pair of eye bags the size of a small island, and the line of his shoulders is tenser than usual. He wonders when he got familiar enough with the man to notice his "regular tenseness", but he doesn't dwell.

His throat itches with dryness like he's swallowed a bunch of cotton balls. He's fairly certain he did not do that. There's a glass of what looks like water (or some mysterious other clear liquid) on the swinging side table, he reaches for it, but his movements are uncoordinated, limbs reluctant to listen to his demands. His hand swings a little too far and it knocks the glass to the floor. He watches it shatter, cringing in anticipation of the loud sound, but the sound is muted and far away, like he's listening through a pane of plexiglass. Ghost shoots up in a panic, looking for the danger. He does a quick double take when he sees soap's eyes open, then he notices the shattered reamins of his would-be drink.

Soap can only give him an apologetic look for disturbing his sleep that he looked like he desperately needed. Ghost walks over to him, and it looks like he's talking, but it sounds muffled, again like listening through plexiglass, or like he poured thick ink into his ears. That's not good. He can feel his mouth split into a displeased look. This is very not good. Bad, even.

Ghost leans over him, one of his big hands rests on his chest, he puts a little pressure then lets off. He does it again. And again. In a steady rhythm that soap can't help but follow.

A nurse walks in, and Ghost backs off leaving soap feel a little unteathered, but he's nolonger panicking. The nurse talks but everything is underwater, and someone's poured glue in his ears. He can't help the nervous look at ghost while the nurse keeps on, ghost holds his gaze steady. And then she's gone.

Ghost tries to speak, then he pauses, holds up a finger as if to tell him to wait, and then slips out of the room.

Great. Absolutely perfect. He's gone deaf. Well, that definitely seems like that would be the sort of thing that gets labled as "career ending", a cateer that he was damn good at. Did they even complete the mission he was on? He didn't even know if it was a success. Or even if he'd gotten any one killed. He hoped not. And to top it all off, Ghost had gone. He rationalized that Ghost had clearly meant that he was coming back. And when he did, he'd explain everything. It would be fine. So fine. Completely fine. Aside from the fact that he's probably kicked from the military.

Ghost slipped back into the room, carrying a small whiteboard, and a marker. He'd wrote something on it before turning it to face soap. It was nothing long, just two words. Quick and lethal. "Burst eardrums" oh...

"Recovery?" He felt the words in his chest when he said them, but he wasn't sure how loud he was being.

"Full recovery. Few weeks" he wrote. Soap found he likes the way he wrote. It was a simple scribble.

"The mission?"

"Success. Few casualties. Demo was KIA. Few others"

It was a bitter win, but it was often best not to dwell on it.

"You look like you got run over by a minivan three times." He says with a cheeky smile. One that always gets him a long-suffering sigh. One that he could see but not hear this time.

"Not the one in the bed." Ghost scribbled, and gave him a pointed look. It only served to make his smile toothier before a yawn broke it. Either exhaustion, or pain medication, or a combination of the two wanted to make him sleep, and he wasn't inclined to agree until ghost pushed him down gently, and scribbled "sleep" in black ink.

The morning after was better. Still inky and underwater, but less panicked. Ghost had stayed as well. Gave him a long list of injuries ontop of his missing hearing.

By the end of the week his hearing had improved a bit, words no longer blended into a blur of tv static. And he's told by Ghost that the doctor said it looked like he'd be back a full hearing in the next three weeks or so.

The second week was when the boredom really hit. It he concentrated hard enough he could parse out syllables, some distinct sounds. Nothing very quiet. But the world made sound again. And he'd taken to pestering ghost to wheeling him around the halls since he wasn't allowed to leave. Not until his hearing was back, and he started on PT.

The third week wqs much the same, aside from starting physical therapy. PT sessions weren'tanythingnew to any of them, but it was always a pain in the ass. But the fourth week, he had full sign off that his hearing was back up to 100%, and he's successfully made good progress on his PT sessions, so he was getting discharged, and sent home on medical leave.

Apparently Ghost had followed right behind him, taking leave of his own. And he declared that he was taking soap to his own flat. Soap didn't much and to protest, but he did to hear the amused tone in Ghost's voice when he bickered with the man.

[luxybearstudio]

"popular Simon, loser Johnny" this and "popular Johnny, loser Simon" that.

WRONG

They were both fucking loser weird Kids, just different flavors.

Simon was the weird edgy kid who didn't talk much.

Johnny was the weird loud mouth fighter kid.

[luxybearstudio]

[luxybearstudio]

Reblog if its ok to spam you with boops