Chapter Text
The smell of spilled oil and smoke hung heavily in the air. The ever-creaking music of beaten metal rang throughout the quiet woodland. The aroma of the disaster sent nocturnal critters fleeing and flying, all held for one.
A gaunt figure lingered, perched on the embankment of the dirt-laden road, eyeing keenly at the horrific scene in the deep ditch below. The silhouette discarded a burlap hood, revealing its individuality to be that of a youthful Jonathan Crane, his light amber brown eyes almost glowing a reddish chroma in the glittering luminescence. His eerily radiant eyes never deviated from the car below him. He never glimpsed away from the sight of the body dangling on what remained of the intact windshield, impaled by the broken glass. He had dreamt of this night for an entire year, although it felt much longer than a mere 12 months.
Something deep down inside told him it was wrong- even immoral -to feel such joy at this. Though he disregarded it like an unruly child with their scolding mother. He didn’t care. He quit caring at the previous year’s Halloween.
Thoughtfully, Jonathan slid down the ditch, wanting to give himself a more distinct memory of what he had done. The more vivid the memory, the more pleasant to relive.
As he neared the totaled car, a faint whimper came from the driver’s side. He almost did a double-take, thinking the whimpering was coming from Sherry. The glass from the windshield had dug so deep into her torso and midsection that peeks of her intestines could be seen when examined close enough. The glass had shallowly disemboweled her, though Jonathan didn’t take notice. He was too focused on the pathetic whimpering, inquisitive to see if it really was Bo. The faint crying reminded him of a frightened dog.
Jonathan approached over to the driver’s window, peeking inside the concealment of the expensive vehicle. A pair of enlarged blue eyes stared back at him, the pupils were blown wide with raw terror.
The whining picked up in pitch, exhibiting more and more of Bo’s paralyzing fear. Oh, how Jonathan drank it in like a rare elixir, instantly feeling drunk with power over his long hated tormentor.
“It seems I only managed to complete half of my mission.” Jonathan muttered. He intended for both parties to die tonight, not just Sherry.
Shrugging, he figured he would have to take circumstances into his own blood-covered hands.
He reached for the back of Bo’s head, eliciting a pained groan from his victim. Taking note of the airbags not going off, Jonathan elected to use the faulty steering wheel to his personal advantage. He gripped Bo’s brunette hair, forcibly drew his head back towards the head of the seat, and with as much power as Jonathan could summon, he struck Bo’s head against the center of the steering wheel.
In between each violent onslaught, Jonathan growled out in an almost inhuman voice, “You only- have yourself- to blame- for this! ”
He gave one last forceful impact, the audible, sickening crack of Bo’s nose and bottom jaw shattering summoning for him to pause his attack. He let his iron grasp go lax, Bo’s head falling forward as he lost awareness. A consecutive stream of blood traversed down his face from his scalp, the warm liquid a lustrous silver in the white moonshine.
Now assured that his work was completed, Jonathan shifted sides of the car, advancing on Sherry’s slowly decaying corpse. Her blood that splattered against the hood, glass, and dashboard was just beginning to clot and dry. Her face was obscured from Jonathan's view, her forehead resting against the surviving shards of glass. Jonathan wrenched her head up, forcing her glazed-over green eyes to look blankly into his own. The life was drained from the beautiful green rings, replaced with chilling a thousand-yard stare. Her once supple and gentle lips were bloodied, the crimson red mixing with her ruined lipstick. Everywhere along her face were deep cuts, a few small pieces of glass stuck in her delicate skin. Thick black mascara stained her cheeks and jawline from tears, showing just how terrified she had been; how afraid she was.
Dismissively, Jonathan loosened his grip, her scratched forehead banging against the glass once again with a gratifying thunk.
“The same goes for you as well, you witch. Your death is your own fault. Just think, if you hadn’t done to me what you did, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place,” Jonathan breathed, “And don't worry your pretty little head , you won’t be overlooked. Oh, I can see the morning paper now, ‘Sherry Squires and Bo Griggs, Arlen’s prized Homecoming Queen and King die in a tragic car accident, both at 18. May God give rest to their kind , loving , sweet , and friendly souls.’ So many will visit your grave,” he wickedly chuckles, “I may even come by to present you with several flowers. Perhaps I'll even leave a jack-o-lantern by your cursed tombstone every Halloween night. You know, for old time’s sake. An ‘inside joke,’ if you’ll grant me my whimsy.”
“And no, the guilt won’t haunt me, I won't let it. It will haunt you instead. I don’t care if you’re dead and gone , I’ll do everything in my power to remind your spirit of the misery you caused me . No matter where your apparition wanders, every moment you’ll be cursed with the guilt of your actions against me . Goodbye, Sherry and Bo, you’ll be remembered forever. You can be sure of it.”
With that, Jonathan removed himself from the scene, taking to making his way homeward through the dark forest. He no longer dreaded what may lurk in the depths. He no longer feared anything.