I've Heard Stories About You... (REPOST)

At first the endless varied tapping of things hitting other things didn't bother him. Until it lasted hours upong hours and was accompanied by different variations of his name. Right now, it was the old 'Batman' theme song with his name in place of the 'Batman!' exclamation. She'd sung his name to every imaginable TV show she could think of, by now. Quite honestly, he had come to the point where he was cursing his own name, mentally. His own machete through his one good eye seemed more merciful. He wondered, briefly, what mother would do if he killed this girl anyway, without passing judgement on her; guilty for being purely annoying. Every now and again she would break her routine and ask if she could have her things, yet. All of this for one's things to be returned to them? Couldn't he just...make her something else to replace them?

Finally, he could take no more. One or both of them would be dead if this continued. He stood from his rickety chair and grabbed his machete from the equally worn table. Night had fallen only an hour ago, he could move freely now. It would probably do him some good to hunt and kill....something...anything. He stalked towards the room he'd confined her in looking as menacing and irritated as possible. It didn't take much effort. She was standing on the mattress with a half folded sheet in her hands; a pile of completely folded sheets on the end of the bed, already. As soon as she saw him, her song stopped. 'Hello, asshole!' she called out, cheerily.

Before he could stop himself, he raised the machete above his head and brought it down quickly, striking the very edge of the mattress and sticking in the wooden floor beneath it. She gasped and backed up flat against the wall behind her. A-ha! That shut her up! Her blue eyes were wide with panic and she held her breath. He yanked the blade up and continued stalking toward the door of the basement. He would have grinned in victory if she hadn't annoyed his face into a permanent scowl for the night. 'Jerk!' she called after him and sunk down to the mattress, holding the sheet wrapped around her and in her hand tighter.

He slammed the door down behind him, causing her to jump and gasp one last time. That should teach her to be loud and annoyingly persistent. He would find her damn pack and give it to her, if anything only to shut her up. He silently prayed to Mother for strength and maybe a bit of patience. Or, permission to end the girl. 'Now, Jason, she's good for you. She's a strong girl. Not like those other, weak, whores that let my baby drown,' the voice of his mother replied. Jason sighed. He had to agree, the girl wasn't weak, but there -was- such a thing as -too- much fire in one person. He knew she could kill and she'd described what it felt like to her on that rainy night. It felt like nothing. Just as it did for Jason.

'She just likes to test you, baby. That's all. You're strong, too. And, together the two of you can punish the ones guilty of not being responsible,' she continued. Jason huffed at that. Like Hell he could cooperate with that...that...just the thought of the girl infuriated him! 'Now, now, Jason, you'll be a good boy and do as your mother says,' she said in a firm warning tone. If he were a lesser man he might have whimpered at the horror of it. Instead it only served to give him more desire to kill something. Stalking along the road he'd seen the girl running from the night before, her father chasing her, he found her backpack rather quickly. It looked completely stuffed, the stitches stretching to their limits. Now, dinner.

((So, I've decided that this won't be one of those WAFF types of romances...if you can even call it such a thing. So, if you're looking for that sort of thing...you'll be disappointed with this story. Aaaaand! Sorry that my chapters are super duper short. I can't help it...I have short-lasting braingasms. :( ))