Chapter Text
The kindergarten sweltered as the body heat of about thirty toddlers, all crowded around a chicken coop, competed against the blistering sun. Liu didn’t care about the chickens, he sat in the sandbox instead, talking to a small Beetle.
The three-year-old never felt compelled to socialise. He had a couple of acquaintances he could play a game of house with, but they weren’t incredibly memorable. He preferred talking to his imaginary friends or looking at bugs.
“Liu sweetheart, come look at the chickens!” A teacher requested, tearing him away from his colouring page. He shook his head as she gently shoved him towards the coop, clearing a bath for the aloof toddler. His eyes wandered over the small chicks as a different teacher asked questions about them. His favourite was a small, scrawny chick that roosted next to a larger, clearly older, fluffier one. The scrawny one was the runt of the litter, but the bigger one didn’t seem to care, snuggling up to its brother affectionately. Liu pondered this, eager to inform his mother when he got home.
“What happened at school today, Liu?” She asked as Liu bore his attention away from the passing scenery and to the driver’s seat, where his mother sat with her eyes on the road. He thought for a moment.
“Uhh…We looked at chickens!” He jittered and tapped his hands on his thighs excitedly. “And-and there was a fluffy one that I liked.” He continued to ramble about chickens until they made it home. The darkened sky added a pleasant breeze, which was a nice contrast to the scorching heat that had finally cooled off. Liu waddled inside and immediately headed to his room to tear through some picture books for dinner. He couldn’t read very well; he just liked the illustrations. He remarked at the dinner table about how good his day was, to his parent’s delight.
A month or so later, Liu’s parents brought home a shiny new toy, to Liu’s excitement. He was expecting a toy car or maybe some new plastic dinosaurs, but instead was greeted with a small, brown-haired, tiny baby. Equally as exciting.
Liu’s mother slowly placed the baby down in Liu’s arms, who just stared awestruck at him. His big blue eyes peered through Liu’s soul, calm and quiet. The two stayed very still for a few moments, staring at each other with wide eyes. His father eventually told Liu that his name was Jeffery and that he was his little brother. Liu nodded and continued watching his brother until he was asked to hand him back.
He was immediately through the roof. A little brother? Wow! That’s like a friend whom you live with. Liu was thrilled about his new friend.
He missed feeling that way. Feeling excited to see his brother’s smiling face. He didn’t think he could feel that way again.
Not after what Jeff did.
Liu pressed his lips together into a thin and flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette. He stood staring out the window, deep in thought. The chatter of people in the background served only as background noise, he didn’t pay attention to what they were saying exactly but knew it didn’t concern him. He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, watching the autumn downpour.
He hated parties. He couldn’t even remember who invited him or why he said yes. No one talked to him other than the interviewers. Talk show after talk show, Liu was forced to relive the day he nearly died. He was so used to it that he didn’t care anymore, the anger and sadness still ached now and then, but he was learning to ignore it. His emotions grew more violent over the years; leading him into more trouble than was necessary.
His thoughts wandered elsewhere until a chirpy, elated voice began speaking to him. “Excuse me?” Finishing his cigarette, he turned to face the person talking to him.
“Can I help you?” His low voice inquired, eyeing the pretty brunette who stood in front of him.
“Are you Liu Woods?” His teeth clenched every time he heard his last name. “I believe we’ve met before. I’m Leslie.” She extended her hand politely, to Liu’s internal distaste.
He shook it and gave a half smile. “Unfortunately, I am. Where did we meet exactly?” Liu’s memory was always bad but worsened over time. He never could pinpoint why.
They chatted back and forth and eventually, Leslie asked if she could buy him a drink. Liu graciously accepted, being quite fond of alcohol. One drink turned into two, two into three and so forth. Though mildly inebriated, Liu wasn’t stupid. He could read her advances like she was an open book. Sitting together at the bar, he would have to swat her hand away as it crept up his thigh towards his crotch.
“I need to use the men’s room, give me a minute.” He calmly slid out of his barstool and crept to the restroom, catching Leslie’s drunken glare just before so. The party had escalated to the point where it made him nauseous. Far too many drunken businesspeople were yelling and arguing to the point where Liu decided he would be better off if he just left. As his hand gripped the door handle, he felt his shirt collar yank back.
“Don’t leave just yet~,” A feminine voice cooed as Liu spun himself around to face his attacker. Leslie stood far below Liu, practically fuming with horny and rejection fuelled rage. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you, and you don’t even offer to buy me a,” She cut off as Liu’s hands wrapped around her windpipe and squeezed. Her painted fingernails clawed at his hands as she timidly squeaked. He let out a low laugh and reached a hand into his back pocket, pulling out a handgun. Her eyes widened as Liu pressed the gun to the space between her eyes.
“Thanks for the drinks, love.” He smirked as she whimpered.
Bang!
She limply fell to the floor as Liu wiped the blood from his cheeks and picked bits of brain matter off his pistol. Stepping over the now exploded watermelon of a woman, he made his way swiftly to his car.
Knuckles white against the steering wheel, Liu’s eyes continued to watch the road, illuminated only by headlights. One of his hands drifted to the dingy car stereo, switching on the radio to attempt to suffocate the voices that hollered in his head. To his distaste, the dreaded ‘Top Forty this week’ pop came one, which was worse than whatever the voices had to say that day.
You’re no better than he is, Liu~. They chimed as his brows knit together. Accept it.
“Good evening listeners! Make sure to keep an eye on the weather; this autumn rain is getting dangerously heavy.” The radio host droned as Liu came to a stop in traffic. Loosening his grip on the wheel, he attempted to pay attention to something that wasn’t his mind. “In other news, another body has been found off the coast this morning. A young woman, mid-twenties, stabbed to death.” Liu’s ears pricked up, a grin snaking its way across his face, tugging at his stitches. “Must’ve been a skilled killer, not a single clue left behind. We can only assume it’s the same killer who did last week’s murder and hope that the police find some more evidence soon.-” The radio abruptly stopped as Liu flicked the station off.
As the traffic began to move, Liu couldn’t help but giggle. Low and calm at first, but it raised in volume and madness until he couldn’t breathe. He wiped his eyes and regained composure, still smiling. Grace the gods of shitty pop music. Thanks to them, Liu knew where he was going.
Jeff’s grotty fingernails picked away at scarred flesh on his arm as he lounged on the couch, barely conscious. Work had exhausted him to the bone, to the point where he couldn’t even get up the stairs to his room. He had decided on a quiet nap on the couch instead, with no midnight television or even video games. Just him, the weathered leather couch and the howling fall wind from outside.
He let out a heaved sigh and folded his arms across his chest. The dull quiet of the house at night was a nice change of pace, as Jeff’s rowdy friends weren’t always the most considerate of his strained and tired ears. He dozed for a good hour, thinking about what shirt he was going to wear or whether his hair needed a wash. It wasn’t long before his almost sleep was interrupted by Jack’s quiet footsteps and hum. He had most likely just finished brutally murdering another questionably innocent human being. Nocturnal fucker loved to eat at the most ungodly hours of the morning.
Too exhausted to move, Jeff just spread himself further across the couch, his feet dangling off one end with his head resting against a worn-out pillow. Everything in the living room was decently musty. The tv was one of those chunky old things that bulged out at the front and had two antennas pointing out the top. The paint used to be an ugly mustard yellow shade but faded over the years to a soft beige. It was peeling, too. Flecks of wallpaper littered the floor along with dust bunnies and the occasional cockroach.
Jeff ran his fingers through his long black hair, the feeling of grease seeping under his fingernails as he picked at sore parts of his scalp. He needed to wash his hair.
With a groan and a cat-like stretch, he tore his aching body from the couch and trudged towards the bathroom. Past Toby’s room, down a spooky corridor, and across from Jack’s room was the only bathroom in the house. The door hinges squealed as Jeff lightly pushed the door open and flicked on the light.
He undressed away from the mirror. It sent chills down his back seeing the same man projected in the mirror. He didn’t see “Jeff the Killer” staring back at him, he saw Jeffery Woods. The same little boy who killed his family in a manic bloodlust. The little boy who ran into the woods until his lungs ached from sharp and uneven breaths.
It scared him.
Moving towards the shower, he tried to brush off the discomfort of the memory of his transition from the sweet young boy he was and the serial killer he became. A grimy, grotesque, and bat-shit insane man who got off on pain.
The pipes groaned as the hot water rushed through them. Cold water hit Jeff’s chest and shot a sharp chill into him. Eventually, the water warmed and began washing his hair. The thick black mess took ages to wash, thus he didn’t do it often. Maybe once a week if he was feeling good.
It was around four in the morning when Jeff finished in the bathroom. His shower was uneventful other than the good thirty minutes he spent sitting naked on the floor staring into space after he had turned off the water. His hair wasn’t dry yet, leaving damp spots on the back of his grungy, ancient band shirt. He got it when he saw My Chemical Romance play a good decade or so back, begging his parents to let him go with Liu.
Hunched over at the small kitchen bench beside Jeff sat Toby, a ‘companion’ of sorts. In reality, they were two fucked up kids who killed people together. Toby liked the term co-workers.
The erratic brunette enjoyed Jeff a little more than anticipated. When they met, Jeff had just turned seventeen. He had Toby’s gangly form pinned beneath him with a knife pressed to his throat. What made him pause was the way the twitchy boy giggled. Being pinned to the forest floor in the middle of the night isn’t usually a funny situation, but he could see through Toby’s orange goggles and mouth covering and into the face of another homicidal maniac.
Toby shuddered under the weight of the man on top of him. The sharp tip of a butcher’s knife pressed hot against his neck, slowly pressing deeper until a small trickle of blood oozed from his throat. Instead of yelping or even wincing, Toby stared deep into the person’s grim features. A smile cut wide into his face. Sleepless eyes burned open. Skin burnt and bleached. He saw something he didn’t fear but felt an intrigue towards. To sway the evening away from getting murdered, Toby did what he knew best. Laughed.
A small chuckle devolved into a delirious howl as the dark ghostly figure eased off from his torso. He lurched at the man, sliding up on his forearms and wiping sweat from his face. He could’ve run. He didn’t want to, however; he wanted to play.
Pinning the man down by his arms and leaning deep towards his morphed face, Toby breathed heavily at him. He studied his features carefully. Taking in the sight of his attacker in the pale moonlight that shot through the trees. Quickly dragging his weight onto his chest, he sat on him. Still giggling.
“WHAT THE FUCK MAN?” The man, now below him, shrieked. His voice broke through the trees and had a thick rasp to it. It held power.
“Shhh~,” Toby cooed as he pressed a finger to the man’s burnt lips. “Eh-everyone’s asleep-p.” He lowered his stammering voice and leaned closer once more, now inches from the face of the man he sat on top of. “I won’t hurt you. Pinky sw-swear.”
The man laughed hoarsely. “Sure.” He flatly stated, struggling under Toby’s weight.
“Who are you? What’re y-you doing in my woods?” It came out more as a pathetic cry for closure than a badass demand for answers.
“Your woods?”
“That’s what I sa-said.” He huffed. Slowly but cautiously, he slid off the stranger’s chest and sat down across from him to talk more comfortably.
“Leisurely late-night stroll.” His permanently smiling face shifted as what was left of his lips curled up into a grin.
Toby didn’t speak, mesmerised by the way the flesh contorted around his slit mouth. The stranger didn’t take kindly to that as he sat up cross-legged and fiddled with the same knife that was stained with Toby’s blood. His lips moved back to their resting position before he spoke again.
“What?” The stranger grumbled. “Take a picture, it lasts longer.” He got up and patted the leaves off his pants. Toby jolted up too, not to copy the stranger he was so fascinated with, but to show him something.
Pulling down his mask, he showed the stranger who had tried to kill him his face not so long ago. His gruelling, scared, and deformed face. The chunk of flesh missing from his cheek revealed his teeth and the inside of his mouth. You could see where the skin transitioned to gum and the slight dribble that ran down the bottom of his cheek.
The stranger stared. Toby stared. Their eyes eventually met as Toby pulled his mask back up.
“That’s pretty wicked.” The stranger remarked with a small exhale. Toby grinned wider than what could fit on his face.
“I l-like you. Come with me.” He held out a gloved hand for the stranger.
His pale white hand ghosted against the fabric of Toby’s glove. “Can I get a name first mister mysterious-woodsman?”
“Toby.”
“Jeff.”
“Pleasure to m-meet you.”
Head in his hands, Toby let out a frustrated groan. His fingers knotted in his curly brown hair. “I can’t sl-sleep. Like at all. Pah-past week I’ve spent staring at the ceiling h-hoping to feel tired.” He lifted his face and dramatically pulled down his eyebags with his fingers. “I th-think I’m dying.”
Jeff turned his face to the drama queen that was filling in for Toby today and snorted. “Have a coffee or something.”
“I caaaaaaaan’t.” He whined. Knocking his fists against his head. Jeff placed a hand on Toby’s shoulder and rubbed his thumb in small circles. Comfort wasn’t his speciality. When things got bad, he shut down and punched holes in walls or took it out on innocent civilians. Feelings were gross and to be avoided at all costs. Except for Toby’s. He could feel Toby’s feelings any day.
Toby moved closer to Jeff and let out a sigh.
“Maybe we can watch a movie. I’ll pick something real cheesy so you can doze off halfway through.” He did a toothy grin. Toby lifted his head to look at Jeff and nodded. He did look tired, eyes more sunken and glazed than usual. He looked tired all the time but this was significantly worse than usual.
“So wah-what’s this about again?” Toby questioned, his weight pressed against Jeff’s body and his head resting on his chest right next to his heart. The gentle beating soothed his nerves.
“This guy won’t shut up about love, so he moves to Paris and goes to this bougie club called the Moulin Rouge, and he falls in love,” Jeff explained. “It sounds boring but it’s so good, watched it when I was like eight and adored it.”
“Nev-never took you for a romantic.”
“I get lots of girls.”
“And guys.” Toby sneered. It got quiet except for the movie after that. Not an awkward silence but a comfortable silence. Just breathing and the sounds from the TV. Inevitably, Toby fell asleep. The gash in his cheek let drool dribble onto Jeff’s shirt. His contented snoring was making Jeff feel tired himself.
He raised a hand to the back of Toby’s hair and played with his curls. The soft locks of hair twirling between his fingers were comforting and oddly domestic for a murderer.
Shortly thereafter, Jeff had fallen asleep, cuddled up with a movie and a companion.
“…Jeff? What happened?”
He couldn’t speak, his throat felt welded shut as his eyes spilled tears.
“Jeff talk to me. What’s wrong?” A low and concerned voice cooed as hands reached out to Jeff’s face. All he could see was the figure that came into view. A tall, thin boy with short brown hair and bright green eyes. Jeff recognised this face.
His throat felt raw and sharp once more. “You’re not real.” He squeaked.
The figure frowned and furrowed his brow. Not a regular frown, one of overplayed disdain. “Why would you say that.” The hands that held Jeff’s face tightened their grip to dig into the smile cut into his face. “I’m very real, Jeffery.”
He tried to shake his head or look anywhere but at the face of the man holding him, but he couldn’t.
“Why did you do it, Jeff?”
TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF-HARM
Jeff woke up alone late in the afternoon. Distant chatter of housemates and crickets chirping established that he had slept longer than anticipated. He gradually dragged his body off the couch and headed to his room, he wanted to be alone right now.
Voices seemed distant. He recognised that people were talking to him but at the same time, everything felt so blurry he couldn’t reply. Stumbling through his door, he slammed his weight against it and fell to the ground.
“Is he okay?”
The only phrase he made out. The conversation that followed was tuned out by Jeff’s brain. He stood up just to pace back and forth a few times. The floor felt further away than normal as he stepped back and forth. A glimmer of metal caught his eye as he slowed his frantic pacing. The knife sat prettily on his desktop, almost beckoning him.
Grabbing the knife and speeding to the bathroom, he felt the pounding anxiety slow down and the voices went quiet. His reflection stared back at him dauntingly, his face seemed to morph and change as Jeff stepped closer to the mirror and tightened his grip on the knife.
He pressed the sharp tip deep into the corner of his mouth and dragged it across the permanent smile on his face. Sounds of skin splitting and flesh harshly tearing apart made the moment feel much more real. The white-hot pain released the angry outburst he had been building up. His face had been healing for too long, the wide red gashes fading into a softer pink. Blood dripped onto the white countertop and into the sink. He moved the knife to the other side of his mouth and finished the job.
His sunken eyes stared at the reflection of his masterpiece, the same masterpiece that haunted nightmares of little children and came after whoever was unlucky enough to come across ‘Jeff the Killer’ that day. The knife fell from his hands with a loud clutter as someone knocked gently on the door.
“Come in.” Jeff croaked as the door opened and Jack peaked his head in through the doorway. He let out a sigh and stepped into the room and towards Jeff.
He stood much taller, maybe six foot seven, and dwarfed Jeff by a long shot. A large hand gingerly grabbed Jeff’s chin. Jack eyed the wound (shockingly with his lack of eyes) and huffed. “I thought you were up to something. Grouchier than usual.” Jack said with a hint of pridefulness. “I’ll help you clean this up.” He gestured to Jeff’s open cuts, grabbed a fresh hand towel, and drenched it in water.
Jeff stayed quiet. He could’ve said something snotty in reply like “You don’t have to,” or “I’ll be fine, really,” but Jack was full of himself and far more mature. Instead, he let Jack dab the towel against his face and soak up the blood. He didn’t want to sound overly grateful but his silence was enough. Jack exhaled and grinned crookedly as he slowly stepped towards the door.
“You should come play cards with us; I’m kicking ass.”
“Not for long you’re not.” Jeff laughed haughtily as he followed Jack into the noisy living room. Loud outbursts and curses were customary in the violent game that is UNO.
Toby and BEN sat cross-legged on the floor huddled around the dirty old coffee table. Four steaming cups of hot chocolate and a messy pile of colourful numbered cards. “Jeff, you’ll have to wait till the next round,” BEN grumbled in his pre-pubescent voice. He lifted his hands, with which he held maybe twenty or thirty cards.
Jeff seated himself next to Toby and grabbed a cup. The warm ceramic felt nice against his cold hands as he held it in both hands. “Jeez BEN, you suck.” He chuckled darkly. The blonde eyed him.
A few games were played. Fists were hurled at faces and Jeff left with a few more bruises than he came into the evening with. Of course, Jack won almost every round and Toby followed closely in second. BEN continued to tank every round and swore up and down that someone was cheating.
Everyone diverged into their rooms but before he could be alone again, he let what he considered to be a “weakness” win.
“Hey Toby…” he started, leaning in the boy’s doorway as he sat doodling at his desk. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but can I sleep in your room tonight?” His lips curled down in disgust. He felt powerless but the only thing keeping his thoughts quiet was the company. Toby paused and gazed at Jeff for a quiet moment.
“Sure.” He said with a smile as he went back to drawing. Jeff mentally kicked himself and closed the door behind him as he went to lie in Toby’s luxuriously comfortable bed. “Y’know, I was guh-gonna ask to come in-into your room anyways.” He giggled as he put down his pencil and tapped his fingers on the table.
Jeff smiled and shifted onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “How perfect.”