Addictive (Jeff the Killer)

“Dearie!” Nana greeted the young girl waiting at her door. Alise’s complexion looked sickly, dead even, and Nana did not approve at all. “Ack, girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost! Come in, come in, Albert will be pleased to see you!” she grinned, tugging on her ward’s hand. Alise let her pull her into the room, smiling at the old-fashioned, Southern style furniture and the old, spotless wooden floors she was so used to.

As soon as her parents let her leave the care of their house, she had taken refuge at Nana’s, even though she had enough money to get her own apartment. The thought of living alone never set right with her old nanny, so she stayed with her for the first few weeks.

After sitting her down, Nana put a perfectly baked omelette in front of her. Albert put down his newspaper, immediately starting a small conversation. Alise smiled and laughed along with them, but her heart was not in it. Every time a happy thought would cross her mind, her injuries would throb dully, as though to remind her just how deadly her life was turning out to be.

Drowning the depressing thoughts beginning to assault her, she smiled at Albert. “How’s work?” she inquired, swirling her iced tea in its sparkling crystal glass. Albert sighed, scratching his chin.

“Rough, little lady; it’s been rough,” he admitted, taking a long drink of his coffee. Albert worked as an agent for the FBI. She nodded along, thinking he was probably tracking down some rogue bomber or maybe a kidnapper. She was always thrilled to hear the stories of how they would track down the criminals, what with the security footage analysis and the DNA tests. “We’re tracking a serial killer,” he started.

Alise raised her eyebrows, sipping her tea. It was rare that Albert’s branch get serial killer cases. Usually, they investigated kidnappings of various important people or terrorist groups. She put her glass down, perking her ears for whatever new information he would have for her.

“This killer has no name that we know for sure, but the media calls him ‘Jeff the Killer’, because of some of the survivors were able to relay that much to police before they eventually disappeared; we’re sure he leaves no survivors, in the end,” before he could continue, Alise jumped up, running to the bathroom and swiftly emptying her stomach of everything she had eaten.

“Ally, baby?” Nana’s worried voice cut through her thoughts, but the only thing she could focus on was vomiting up everything. She groaned, leaning back as her Nana’s form entered the small bathroom. Nana flushed the toilet and handed Alise a rag that had been hanging on a rack beside the sink. “It wasn’t my cooking, was it?” she bit her lip, her slight wrinkles deepening with her worry.

Alise quickly shook her head. “No, your cooking is exquisite as always, Nana,” she breathed, wiping her mouth and scrubbing the acid off her teeth. She couldn’t wait to get home and brush them. “I’ve just been feeling sick lately; there’s a stomach bug going around,” Alise lied through her teeth, forcing a smile onto her cheeks. Nana frowned, rubbing Alise’s back before standing.

“I’ll get you some medication; you can stay here and rest, if you like, or you can go home. Wherever you stay, I want you in bed, understand? I need you well as soon as possible,” she chided gently, pulling her up and going to her medicine cabinet. When Alise came back into the room, Albert winced and nodded in sympathy. If he knew just how much his words affected her, he would have been interrogating her, not sympathizing with her.

She didn’t know what it was, but she didn’t want to mention Jeff. Whether it was the fact that Jeff might kill her for spilling information or that she didn’t know how far on lockdown her adoptive grandfather would force on her, she didn’t know. Soon after, she pulled her car into the parking lot of her little apartment. She felt numb when her feet hit the ground, and Alise walked like a zombie the whole way to the stairs.