Jeff the Killer

The Birth of The Killer

"Is he going to be okay doctor?" Jeff's mother asked.

"Oh yes ma'am, your son will be fine, however, he will have a lengthy road to recovery, and will need your support. The flare struck his face and caused 3rd degree burns on his left side."

"How bad is the eye?" Jeff's father asked.

"Hard to say at this point, he'll need to see an optometrist for further review, but the damage appears quite severe."

"And his face? What about his face?" Jeff's mother asked, sounding deeply concerned.

"Well, we were able to clean and treat the injury in time, so you've no concern for infection or anything of that matter. We'll want him on antibiotics for a while, and he'll need to have the wound cleaned and dressed on a regular basis, but all in all, your son got very lucky. The damage could have been more severe."

"Doctor," his mother began again, "What if there is permanent damage? What do we do about that?"

"As I said, an optometrist will have to examine the eye..."

Shelia Woods interrupted the doctor, sounding more agitated then before, "You're not listening, not the eye, his face! What do we do to correct his face?" she demanded.

"Well ma'am, we have treated his face, like I said, there shouldn't be a risk of infection so long as you...."

She cut him off again, "Not the infection, his.... his appearance? What can we do for that?"

"Miss Woods, that's hardly a concern at this point. Once he is healed and back on his feet, you can possibly explore plastic surgery to repair some of the damage, but honestly, right now, we can't waste concern on how he looks. What is important is that your son is healthy. He can expect to be back home in a few days, maybe sooner."

Jeff's dad spoke again, "Okay, thank you doctor. Can we have some time alone please; my wife and I need to speak."

"Certainly," the doctor replied.

"Liu, why don't you go down to the hospital cafeteria and get yourself a snack?" Matt Woods suggested.

"But I want to be here in case Jeff wakes up," Liu replied.

"Liu, they told us that Jeff is heavily medicated. They don't expect him to wake up anytime tonight. So, just go, and if he does come around, we'll have you paged," Matt replied.

Jeff heard the door open and close as Liu exited.

His parents both let out a long shaky sigh, but Jeff was starting to believe it was not a sigh of relief, but rather one of stress.

"We're going to have to home school him now Matt, that's just what it's going to be, we're going to have to keep him home!" he heard his mother rant, her voice sounding frantic.

"What? I mean, he probably won't be able to start school right on time, but I doubt he'll miss a whole year!" his father responded, trying to maintain a calmer voice.

"I'm not talking about that Matt, I'm not worried about him missing a week or two of school. I mean his face Matt, you heard what the doctor said, his face is going to be.... disfigured!" Shelia argued back.

"We don't even know the full extent of the damage yet Shelia, it could be minor, it could possibly heal, and you heard what he said, plastic surgery could be an option in time."

"In time? What kind of time? A year, two years, and what about in the meantime? People are going to see him and they're going to talk, is that what you want? He's going to be a.... a pariah! You think anyone is going to want to have him around their kids?"

Jeff was hearing all of this, just letting it soak in, slowly. As his mind absorbed the words, he felt that rage return. Sick, rich, dark, that syrup of raw, primal emotion. He wanted to scream at his mother, to tell her to shut up, that he was the one lying here, half his face burned, blind in one eye, all thanks to her forcing him to go over to Randy's house. He wanted to ask her why she left, why she went off to go shopping or have her nails done or whatever it was that she did. He wanted to know why she'd leave him alone with a kid who just days before tried to jump him and his brother. He wanted to know how she could care more about his appearance than the fact that he was lying in the hospital.

However, there was still so much more that he wanted to know as well. He wanted to know how much more his mother hated him, how much more she saw him now as a, how did she put it, a pariah. He wanted to continue to swim in the thick pool of dark hatred that was starting to form from the rage and anger. That was a new one now. Before it was anger, then it was anger mixed with pleasure. But now, now it was anger mixed with hatred. And while he certainly longed to be free of it, while he most certainly preferred the false sense of love and concern he believed he'd heard from her before, he also wanted to test it out a bit more. He also began to wonder, how well would this new recipe blend with pleasure, how would it feel?

Matt Woods began to speak again, "I just can't believe he shot himself in the face with a flare gun. I always thought Jeff was more responsible than that."

"Don't even get me started on that," Shelia replied, "I couldn't believe it when Randy and his friends explained to the medics and police how it all happened. Randy was just trying to show Jeff around his house, and wanted to show him the collection of magazines his dad kept in the garage. You know boys; he was probably hoping that a couple of Playboys would be in there or something. Then he said Jeff found the box containing the flare gun, and just wouldn't stop playing around with it. You should have heard those other boys Matt, they told me that they practically begged Jeff to just put it down before he got hurt, but he just had to show off. I just don't know where we went wrong Matt. I thought us moving out here to a nice quiet neighborhood would make everyone happy. Jeff though, he just, he just wants to fight us on everything."

And while all that came together in Jeff's mind, he continued to swim in that black ichor of hatred and rage. The morphine drip added a nice touch of euphoria, Jeff could almost see himself, plunging into the syrupy waters of hatred, and emerging changed. Each dip brought him so much twisted pleasure. And that was when he finally understood. He could sample the pleasure now. Not because he was enjoying what was happening, but because he knew he could enjoy what was to come.

Just as the doctor had predicted, Jeff was scheduled to go home a few days later. During his time at the hospital, he never asked to see his face. It wasn't until the last day that he finally asked for a mirror. The nurse had come in to change his bandages, as was the routine. She was a pleasant woman, she spoke to him, asked him how he was doing. He enjoyed her visits. So, on the final day, when she arrived to clean and dress his face, he asked to see himself.

"Are you sure sweetheart? Would you like me to call in your parents first?" she asked.

"No thank you," Jeff replied, "I think I want to see it for myself first, without them standing over me."

"I understand," she replied honestly, without a hint of pretension.

Once the bandages were off, she handed him a small hand mirror.

"Would you like me to step out of the room?" she asked.

Jeff ignored her and looked at himself, taking stock of the damage. Sure enough, his face was a mess. The entire left side at least. The flare struck him traveling upwards, and burned a scar into his left cheek that extended to his eye. At first glance, it almost looked like he was smiling on that side. The scar was still bright red, and burn tissue spread out on either side. Once it arrived at his eye, the news did not get any better. His eye was white, just a lifeless bulb plugged into his face. He closed his right eye, and found that he could see nothing from his left eye at all. The scar continued up the left side of his forehead. The damage was less severe there however. The hair on the left side of his head was burned off, leaving a few strands to stick up here and there.

"Sorry sweetie, but I have to put clean bandages on," she told him.

Jeff smiled, "It's okay, there will be plenty to time for me to admire myself later."