Jeff walked out of the morgue, quite easily and surprisingly, he was unnoticed. Because of the the broken leg that Jane gave him, he limps. He knew this part of town, he knew every area around every town he'd ever been in like the back of his hand. His feeling was satisfied by Jane and the two nurses, but it would come back soon, he knew it, too. He felt in his pocket for the kitchen knife. He slid his fingers down the middle of the knife, Jeff felt that it had melted and deformed from the heat of the fire. He was surprised but relieved he didn't get burned from the fire. You see; Jeff was running through the house he and Jane had fought to the death in previously, and in doing so, he breathed in too much smoke, and passed out. He almost died, from both blood loss and lack of oxygen.
Jeff made it back to his parents house. It made him uneasy because of the previous events with Jane, but it also comforted him. It felt like home to him. It was the only place he could consider a home. He sat gently down on a couch that had formed a thin layer of dust. Jeff inspected his broken leg, he was surprised to see it had been tightly wrapped to keep it in place. He decided not to walk on it much for a bit.
He got up on one leg and hopped to the nearest mirror in the hallway. He wiped it with his hand and inspected his gashed face, he ran his white fingers over his leathery face, the nurses had stitched them up and used disinfectant (he could tell, as there was a stinging, and not the type of stinging you get when you cut your face, he knows what that feels like.). It would not scar as his smile had, to which he was glad, but it would scar.
It began to rain and Jeff, still inside of his late parents' home, began to get the feeling. He was hungry for blood. Jeff made his way out of the darkened house and walked along the wet sidewalk, he hood up. He fiddled with the knife in the pocket of his white hoodie, making a small cut on himself in the process. This made him smile, he sucked the blood draining from his finger.
The feeling subsided the tiniest bit, as he had tasted blood, but it was not enough; he needed to kill. He soon spotted his victim. A young girl, not more than twenty years old, but not less than seventeen years old, walking on the opposite side of the road, also walking the opposite way. Jeff walked further, keeping his head down, but not taking his eyes off of her. He stopped and tried to make himself look as nonchalant as possible. He didn't want the girl to get an idea of what he was doing. He waited a little longer, just to create a safe distance between them. He then crossed the street.
Keeping his head down, Jeff looked at the girl, his fingers circling the blade of the knife with excitement. The girl looked back casually, as she heard footsteps behind her. She turned back and continued walking. The girl didn't notice him. Good. Jeff thought. He began to pick up his pace, as she was approaching an abandoned neighborhood alley. Perfect opportunity. When he made it about four feet away from her, Jeff pulled on the sleeve on his hoodie and pulled the arm that the sleeve was covering back a little bit. He would use this to gag her. Jeff, still following her closely, picked up his pace to a slight jog, causing pain in his broken leg, he pulled the sleeve over her mouth and pulled her to the ground with him.
Once on the ground, the girl was screaming. Her screams were muffled and Jeff couldn't make out anything, not that it mattered. He pulled his sleeve from her mouth and she grew silent. She was staring, horrified at his face. The smile carved into Jeff's face grew wider, his own smile. It turned into a menacing laugh. She began to scream again, not saying anything, just screaming. Jeff pulled out his knife and put it against her chest.
"Shh. Go to sleep." Jeff said in a low, raspy whisper. The girl screamed even louder.
Jeff slid the knife into her chest and she was silenced. Jeff carved a smile into her face. Identical to his own. He walked away from the corpse, his feeling was satified. Jeff The Killer is back.