THE FAVOUR (Bloody Painter x Reader)

chapter 1

warning: heavy gore and mentions of physical abuse.

Helen wasn't usually a person to start panicking. Usually. Under normal circumstances, he can think clearly; his head doesn't spin and he doesn't typically succumb to his emotions. If anything, the only feeling he really does feel is anger, and he's usually able to control that.

However, these were no normal circumstances.

He was doing a favour for one of his fellow murderers, specifically Eyeless Jack; apparently, the cops were going heavy in his area, and he was already a suspect. He had some errands he needed to run with his old establishments, and apparently, he was taking some girl with him. He and Jack weren't the best of friends, but they had mutual agreements, and trusted each other. Helen had owed him a solid anyways, so visiting a town to watch his back for a little while wasn't a problem, as long as he didn't have to interact with his other friends.

The town he was in was small, and it's murder rates had been going up by the days. Of course, it was because of his good old friend, Jack. He didn't want to be here. It wasn't the type of city you'd plan to go to for vacation, to be as simplistic as possible. Whatever, though. He needed to pay his friend back, just until he got up and left.

It was a Friday night. Helen found himself listening to some music one late night, right after he packed up his sketchbook for the day. As he laid in one of Jack's spare rooms, somewhere in some old cabin not too deep in the woods, he heard his throwaway phone buzz loudly. He sighed, picking it up, knowing immediately it was Jack.

"Need you help! Cops, victim's fucking boyfriend got away. He ran into the woods, get out of the cabin!" He whisper yelled at Helen. He threw off his jacket, throwing his iPod to the side (yes, he's old fashioned) and jumping into his boots. He stayed on the phone with him.
"Is he near the cabin?" He asked into the phone, rushing out to the front door.
"Should be. Idiot ran right into the woods. Neighbours called the fucking cops when he caught me taking out his bitch's lung!" He growled. Helen could hear him running. "Right now, I'm running to a friend's to hide. They're not onto me right now, but I'm gonna need you to take care of him. 6'3, white, blond, red jacket and sweatpants." He heard grunting over the phone. "And then, I'm gonna need to flea."
"You're sure he's in these woods?" He asked, prowling on the cabin's porch.
"Positive. I had eyes on him. The cops were there a while after he fled, and the house was near those woods."
"Maybe he lives in them?" He asked, trying to look out for a sign of the male.
"No fucking clue," Jack grunted. Was he fucking climbing? "I gotta go."
Before Helen could say another word, Jack hung up his phone.

Well fuck. How was he supposed to find some fucking asshole in the middle of these deep ass woods? Helen gave a sigh. He just had to do this, huh? His switchblade was tucked in his boot, his regular knife in the safety of his blue jacket. He knew the trails like the back of his hand; Jack informed him it was mandatory to know these woods. He knew probably a mile out was where houses were, not too far from this cabin. He also was aware of the few other cabins like this one, deeper and more spread apart in the woods. There was a trail not far from the cabin he stayed in, and the next one he remembered was only about ten minutes away, if you were running. Helen slipped on his white mask, and made his way to the closest trail. In the distance, he could hear loud footsteps hitting the foliage. That didn't sound too far away, meaning he'd already ran farther down the trail, not for from him if he ran fast enough. Trusting his gut, he began to run down the path as silently as possible, a skill he picked up on many bloody nights.

Running down the path, he already knew he was in one of those cabins. The closest one was abandoned. The other one was not; he had no idea who lived there, but he had a clue. He thought it was kind of stupid Jack decided to take the cabin closest to the houses. It was something temporary, sure, but he assumed he knew better than to be that close. He kept his pace, and his eyes sharp. No need to judge his companion now.