Hello all! You can't see me, but I'm waving at my laptop right now. *Waves*
Soooo here's chapter 6, I'm sorry I haven't been updating very frequently, I plan to update every week or a little more, that's frequent enough, right?
I'm sure ur lives will not end if I miss ONE update.
I hope u guys don't mind, but if you've noticed, most of these chapters are mostly just a few events and Jess's thoughts. I have a habbit of only caring about the character's thoughts, I like detail. If this were ever to be considered being made into a movie, they just couldn't do it becuz all I've written is a character's thoughts, lol.
Anyways, I've been trying to put off Jeff and Jess's meeting for awhile, becuz I really dislike books that get right to the point, and there's no suspense. This is a story about a serial killer after all.
But I can assure u guys that the next chapter will have their official meeting, ok? What happens after that... well you'll just have to wait and find out ;)
Ok, well I must go and write this chapter so I'll be brief with the question of the day. (Or question of the chapter)
What is ur current obsession? Mine is Black Butler. I recently finished it, as of now actually, and now I feel like my life is incomplete. I really don't know what to do with myself other than update my stories.
Sooo ya, tell me in the comment below, vote, and enjoy this chapter! ^.^
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The drive was very uncomfortable, as I was in the back of a truck with no seatbelt and I had my head banged to the side everytime we hit a bump in the road.
Like I don't have enough mental damage already.
But I suppose that's why I'm here, isn't it? False accusation or not, I can't argue with the fact that I do indeed have issues. But I can't be locked up in a mental hospital simply because I'm an obsessive fangirl over a psychopath and I have multiple voices constantly talking to me inside my head.
But I suppose some would argue against that.
Including my mother.
I'm still processing that my mom actually thought I'd killed our cat, and is convinced that I need to be locked away for it. Sure, I didn't like the cat that much, and sure, we didn't get along, but does she really know me to be the kind of person that would do a thing as such?
I suppose there really was no other explination, though. Damn Jeff, and damn me for being so reluctant to tell her the truth. Is is because I wanted to keep Jeff a secret so he wouldn't be revealed? Maybe that's the reason behind it and I just don't want to remind myself of it. Or, perhaps, it's only partly the reason. I had told myself before that if I had told her about Jeff, it would have ended up the same way.
Jeff, apparently, is a fictional character. If I were to tell my mother that he did rather than I, who was the only one home at the time, she would still think I'm not emotionally or physically stable.
But what's the problem with telling her that a random psycho broke in and killed the cat?
Well, that would take some major explaining. How exactly am I still alive? It's not often, or rare, I should say, that a serial killer breaks into a house just to kill a cat rather than a defenseless human who happens to be right in their path, or both of them.
I'm hoping that Jeff follows me here rather than killing my mom and my sister, assuming that he's watching me 24/7, which is most likely not true but simply that I wish it was.
And my assumption of an accomplise must keep him busy enough, if it's true. But what I wonder, is why he even needs a killing partner? Isn't he fine with murdering by himself, or does even Jeff the killer get lonely at times?
That's understandable, even though I know of the person he really is. Everyone is ought to get lonely if they are as alone all the time as he is.
Perhaps he needs a lover too. Penelope says.
Of coarse she'd say that. But there's a small part of me that's considering it. There's a difference between getting lonely and falling in love. And being the person that Jeff is, I highly doubt he's looking for, or has even considered a lover.
Although if he is looking, I'll be sure to sign Penelope up.
Penelope isn't a real person. I would facepalm myself, but my hands are handcuffed behind my back at the moment.
Speaking of which, how long have we been driving? I imagine that a mental hospital is a ways out of town, for the purpose of keeping away unwanted visitors. As far as I know, they don't allow visitors at all.
Finally, after what seems like forever, the vehicle comes to a perminent stop, and the sun suddenly blinds me as the doors open. I close my eyes to avoid the harsh light, but only force them open a few seconds later when I feel myself being hauled out.
I'm continuously being dragged by my handcuffs towards the large pure white building in front of me. The first thing that I notice about it is that it does not have a single window.
The door is heavily guarded, so it takes about 2 minutes for the fully armed men to unlock the system, due to a very long password and eye scanning. Once we get inside, I am locked in a pure white room with walls that look like couch cushions. I am stripped naked of my current atire, and put into a white gown. Then, they all leave, and I'm left alone.
I sit on the bed against the wall and look up at the security camera pointed at me.
"Good evening, Miss Robins." A voice says through the camera, or a microphone that I cannot currently locate.
"Indeed." I say sarcastically, gritting my teeth.
"Your schedule from tomorrow on will be as everyone else's is, excluding your physiatrist appointment you'll have every day at 4:00. Breakfast is at 8:00, bathing hours will be from 9:00 to 10:00, lunch is at 12:00, and dinner is at 5:00. Lights out at 9:00."
"What am I to do during the time gaps?" I ask.
"We will supply books, writing and painting utensils, and anything else for entertainment purposes, so long as it's in our bounderies."
No freaking Internet, oh, the horror.
I put my elbows on my knees and hang my head down, not saying anything. My black hair hangs around my face, hiding my eyes from the cameras.
This place is boring me already. But on the bright side, at least I don't have school.
I sigh heavily and lay my body on the bed provided for me.
1 week later -
I wake up to the same loud alarm that's been waking me for a week now. They organize a loud trumpet alarm over the microphones in everyone's room to wake them up.
I sit up and rub my eyes, grabbing my contacts from the desk beside the bed. Our room only has 4 things. A bed, a toilet, a sink, and a desk. I have about 10 books stacked on that desk. I hate reading, but what am I to do here besides sleep, or draw?
I can't draw anything because all I usually draw is Jeff, and I'm not risking drawing something like that here. That's why I'm here, isn't it? I have a problem, and it's his fault. Jeff is the problem.
In about 10 minutes, it will be breakfast time. I expected all the patients to go to a large cafeteria to eat or something, but it turns out they won't even risk that. All our meals are delivered to our rooms for us.
The best meal I've had here this whole week has been grilled cheese. The food here is really bad. What I'd kill to eat a donut.
What's worse is that I have to sit and answer questions for a half hour with a physiatrist who's trying to make me normal again.
Normal. I know no understanding of the word "normal." As far as I care, it's just a setting on a washing machine.
The day goes by fairly fast. Soon, it's already lights out, but I'm not the least bit tired, so I just lie on my side and pretend to be asleep.
I don't know how long I've been laying here, but it's certainly not silent in this place. There are staff running about, doctors, it's a busy place at all hours.
Suddenly, I hear a lot of banging. Things hitting the ground, and tearing. Tearing of what? This is certainly an unusual sound to hear, especially at this hour, not that I'm aware of the time.
The noises stop, and I hear footsteps coming toward my room. If it's a stranger, good luck to him, because my room needs a key to get in, which happens to be hidden with the person running this place, if my information is correct.
Apparently not, because I hear a key being inserted into the key hole, and someone slowly turning it, then turning the knob, and my door creaks open. I continue to act asleep, but my eyes are wide as I'm facing the wall.
Footsteps come towards my bed, and suddenly a hand grabs my shoulder and roughly turns me over to look at whomever the intruder is.
My wide eyes are met with a dark, sadistic smile.