Why Aren't You Smiling?

Chapter Twelve

Wick Greenwood

I try sputtering out some form of "Jeff" and inevitably end up only losing more of my breath. I reach out to the man's throat and dig my nails deep into it until he drops me with a snarl. I gasp as I fall to my knees, my lungs burn and it feels like someone dropped a burning match down my throat. The man touches his neck and growls lowly, his sharp teeth showing as his lips pull into a large frown.
       Something coils around my leg and I squeak, I look down and wince as it tightens, wires from my television squeeze my leg and keeps it in place. The man straddles me as wires wrap around my other leg and my hands, keeping me in place as I whimper and try to scream. I try to head-butt him but a wire wraps around my neck keeping me completely pinned.
       I'm barely able to say a few words as the pain of talking stops me, "What- d- you wa-?"
His lips curl up into a large smile and he chuckles. "You don't fall in love with a psychopath and expect to survive. It just doesn't work." He leans down and licks my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "And since neither Jeff or you understand that..." he takes a small breath as his nails dig into my side probably more painful than I could manage, "I'll finish the job."
       He bites my neck and I gasp quietly as the pain of his teeth.
       There's no way I'm dying by someone else's hand after all the shit I've done. As Ben bites on my neck, drawing blood and causing pain, slowly but surely force my hand to the coffee table. Making sure he doesn't notice, I slip the small box off of the table and into my hand. Slowly, I open the box and grab one of small wooden sticks, and with haste, I strike the math against the side and bring the flame to his face.
       The wires fall limo and he stands up, screaming with agony as he lights on fire. "You fucking bitch! You shouldn't have done that!" He disappears out of thin air and I let my head rest on the floor. Holy... what?
      "Wick?!" Jeff comes running in looking around frantically. He kneels by my side and starts checking my body for I assume any injuries. I tilt my head to the side and watch three letters fade away on it. B E N.
What have I gotten myself into?
•••
       Jeff's arms are wrapped tightly around me as we lay down on the couch. He clings to me from behind, as if I'll disappear like that monster. I can't say much though, I've done worse than choke someone.
      Jeff took his stitches out which was nice to see him not look like he's in constant pain for once. I'm sure he still is in pain. I did some more reading on Jeffery Woods, apparently everyone knows about him really. He's all over the news, people are fucked up to want to know more than should be told about this type of person.
      Jeff's skin is a bit leathery like, and much paler than normal skin. He was bleached and set on fire by some kids that bullied him, he did the long scars in his face by himself. He's been through some stuff, I don't know how he's still sane enough to even think logically. I know I'm not. I wonder if I'd be normal if I didn't do that to my family. If my family didn't do that to me. There were so many other options, why'd I have to go with the one that dealt the most damage?
      I haven't taken my medicine today.
      I wiggle out of Jeff's arms and stand up. I make my way into the kitchen, and take my pill bottle out of the cabinet above the stove. What would happen if I didn't take these anymore? Would I go back to my old state or would I just be fine?
        "You know," arms wrap around my waist and Jeff's voice serenades me. "you shouldn't take those pills." His breath hitches and he rests his head on my shoulder. "Those things kill you."
       "I know." I take a deep breath and nod, "I know all too well."
        The pill bottle lays in my hand as I try to decide the fate of my mental health. What does it even matter anymore? It's not like I can go have a normal life now that Jeff's here and the few people I conversed with were murdered.
        Jeff takes the bottle from me and tosses it into the trash. Looks like I didn't have to make the decision after all.
       "You'll be fine." His small whisper claimed, as if that would be enough reassurance of my mental health. Look at me, taking mental health advice from a psychopath.
       "Jeff."
       "Yes?" He holds his hands underneath my shirt, his very cold hands at that.
       "What now?"
       "What do you mean?"
       I rub my eyes and lean back into him trying my end to ignore all fear of the man holding me. "Now what? I know you don't think we can just live relaxed in a suburban home, where we'd be easy to track. What do we do now?"
       "Run."
       "Run?"
       "We take your car, and go far away. Never looking back. We just leave."
         "I couldn't, I can't leave this."
        "It's this or death. Because police surely won't spare you, especially if you're seen with me."
         "What if I want death?" His grip on my tightens and I'm not sure if he's upset.
"I won't let you. I won't let go. You have to be here and if not for yourself, then me. Stay for me."
        He takes a small pause and I already know that the next thing he says will hurt.
       "You love me don't you Wick?"