The ceiling was all I could stare at. It was plain white so there really is no reason for me to even stare at it. But it was all I could look at to relax me. It was quiet and dark. It should be midnight by now. Moonlight poured through the silk, white curtains and I couldn't help but take comfort in it. Everything was silent and nothing could disturb this wonderfulness.

Just then, a loud snore came from my right and I frowned. I looked down at the red-headed, freckled boy next to me, lying within my arms. He was sound asleep and his peaceful, light face seemed to stand out within the dimness of the bedroom. He had an arm around me while the other was left next to him, his hand next to his face, fingers curled up like a kitten's paw. He was as delicate as one too.

I leaned my head against his, my raven dark hair brushing against his face and he twitched his nose. He pushed his face into the crook of my neck and I allowed him to stay like that. Running my white, slender fingers through his red hair, I stared at the window, watching the night sky through the see-through curtains, with my pure black eyes. His breath was warm against my skin and I couldn't help but get shivers. His skin was smooth and soft against mine, nothing to cover that feeling. Having him in my arms made everything bad seem like a distant memory. Having him in general made everything bad seem distant. He was mine to keep forever and he made it clear many, many times.

How did I end up with such an innocent creature in my arms, lying in the same bed with me? Well, it all started when I bought a book.

...

Another news paper with the headlines- "Infamous Killer Still At Large" -stared at me straight in the face. I flicked the paper and read what it had to say. "Unknown murderer is still running amuck the city of McBrennan," I mumbled the words in the article, "There have been two new accounts of murders, both of which pinpoint to the perpetrator's doing. On Friday, a woman, Brenda Haven, was murdered within her own home. She was found dead in her kitchen. Her neighbor, Mrs. Edna Troy, had called the police to only report the smell of smoke coming from Haven's house. A patrol squad came to the house and that is when both officers discovered Haven's body. She had currently been cooking at the time and the stove had still been on, resulting in the smell of smoke that Mrs. Troy had reported. Autopsy results say she was stabbed in the back only once and was left to bleed out until she died. Haven lived alone so there was no one else in the house but her and the murderer, who broke in through an upstairs window without detection from Haven or any of her neighbors."

I adjusted my sunglasses and kept reading aloud to myself, wondering what kind of things they will say about the next case. "The second murder was placed in a local park. Walden Pierce was out for a late-night jog, as his wife had confirmed, when he had been attacked. His wife Linda Pierce, who was with him at the time, screamed and tried to help him when the murderer had lashed out and slashed her arm, in an attempt to drive her away. The murderer then proceeded to stab her but she had avoided such attack." I chuckled to myself and remarked, "She didn't even try to help. She started running the moment I struck. Only reason I attacked her was because I couldn't let her escape. Liar.."

I ruffled the paper and kept on reading. "Walden Pierce had started wrestling the murderer and that is when Linda escaped to receive help. During the time it took Linda to contact police, Walden had been killed. Autopsy reports say he was stabbed twenty seven ti- twenty seven?!" I exclaimed. Frowning, I growled, "Idiots! I didn't stab him twenty seven times! It was only eighteen times! I counted! God damn coroners can't get anything right...!" Too annoyed with the report to read on, I angrily threw the newspaper into a nearby trash can. I didn't have to read it anyways. I know what happens. I made it happen. But every time I read a report on my murders they never seem to get one fucking fact right. And they wonder why they haven't caught me yet. Pssh, damn idiots!

Brushing off the annoyance, I walked along the side-walk. I passed people by; couples, groups of friends, families of three or four, or lone walkers. No one seemed to pay much attention to me and that was good. I adjusted the baseball cap on my head and picked up my pace. It gets annoying, having to wear silly things like sunglasses and the baseball cap. Sometimes even scarves and gloves. I have to wear these every time I'm out in public during the day. In some cases, even the night when I'm out to get a few convenient store munchies. And I always feel stupid having to wear the sunglasses inside any sort of building. As if I didn't look suspicious enough. Some people have nearly mistaken me for being some shoplifter or thief. Others just think I'm one of those jerks that wears sunglasses inside even though it doesn't make any damn sense to do so. But I have to wear these silly things to conceal my identity.

I'm a killer and no one likes killers. Not even other killers. My face would be easy to recognize if someone saw me. I have a very...unique look. Because of that I'd be easy to point out. And even if I wasn't a murderer, people would still look at me like a freak, like a monster. I don't look like other women. Men would grimace at the sight of my face. I don't have beautiful colored eyes like everyone else has. Not anymore. My skin isn't radiant and peachy like it used to be. I don't have beautiful brunette or blonde hair, mine is blacker than black. And it's not too straight either. It's wavy and all over the place. And I don't have pretty pink or red lips either. They're just black and it isn't fucking lipstick. I wish. I'm like an old, twisted tree. Beautiful from a distance but once you come up close that tree looks like it's desperate to get cut down. I look like a woman, my shape, I mean. But really I'm an atrocity. And at first I was miserable because I looked horrifying, but now I've come to deal with it. So what if people think I look like a monster? That's just the outside. Though my heart is cold and dark, I could have still been a warm-hearted, beautiful soul on the inside. People are just too stupid to give the soul a chance while they're obsessing over the looks. I don't care about the labels they give me. All that matters is that I fend for myself, and only myself. No one else matters. I care for no one else.

I walked along the side-walk for several more blocks until I came to the more run down side of the city. This area consisted of many cheap apartment buildings, graffiti nearly everywhere you look and, of course, street gangs consisting of men and women of all races and ages. And there's always that one prostitute at the street corner, waiting to get picked up by some needy guy and violated for a few bucks. Everything about this area rubs me the wrong way. But this is the only place I can live. The apartments are cheap and I steal enough money to get me by in those dank shit pits.

I made it to one apartment building and walked in. I passed the front desk, which was always empty and took the stairs to the fourth floor, where I live. I never take the elevator. It has this problem of breaking down and getting stuck and I don't have any patience for a situation like that. After walking up four flights of stairs, I made it to my floor and went to my apartment room. My door opened with a creak and the musty air of the room hit me like it always did. I groaned and shut the door behind me. I turned on the lights and made a B-line towards my bedroom. It was a small apartment. As soon as you walk in, you're already in the main room, which only had a recliner and a table with a TV that didn't work for shit. The kitchen is right next to that and it is cramped as hell. The counters are small and stained from whatever the previous owners had done on it, the fridge is so old and the cabinets are creaky and nearly falling off of their hinges. The sink barely works and all I need to do is take one step to get across to the other counter.

I walked past the worn down recliner and walked into my bedroom, which was cramped as well. My door hits the side of the bed when I open it all the way, and my bed is very low. My closet is small and doesn't hold many clothes. And then there's an old radiator in here that clangs and bangs in the middle of the night, always waking me up and disturbing my sleep. I shut the door and immediately threw off my hat and jacket. I slipped my sunglasses off and placed them on a small nightstand next to the door. I kicked off my worn out sneakers and plopped down on the bed. I stretched myself out across the mattress and sighed.

I'm exhausted. I usually spend my normal days out walking around the city. I can't stand being in this apartment all day so I leave it and then come back for the night to sleep. Closing my black eyes, I allowed my body to relax. But the sound of a gunshot made me open my eyes and I frowned. "God dammit, not again," I groaned and grabbed a pillow to hold over my head. I could still hear the gunshots outside and the occasional screams for help. I wish I could just leave this place. But where else can I go? I don't have a lot of money, plus I'm a convicted killer. There is no place for me out in the world other than here in the ghetto.

I sat up to see what all of the commotion was about. I looked out the window above my bed to see the streets below. I put my hand against the glass and watched as these thugs were hassling this woman. She had nice clothes which means she doesn't live around here. She belongs to people of the wealthy side of McBrennan. Or at least the in between. With cold eyes I watched as the men harassed her and she was calling for help. Then, like I've seen many times before, they began ripping off her clothes and grabbing at her body. I knew what usually happens next and I looked away in time to see them dragging her half-naked body some place else to scar her forever.

I felt no sort of compassion for that woman or to anyone else who's fallen victim to the bad of this place. Back then I had felt a need to help those people. I would always run into action and try helping but that was when I was barely starting out my life as a monster. I learned the hard way that it's every man for themselves. And I learned by getting beaten around by street gangs to the point where I should have been hospitalized but I was only left there to bleed. I learned that places like this is where society's demons come to feed. I've seen shootouts happen, I've witnessed people get picked off of the streets and kidnapped, and I've watched and have commenced murder, first hand. I've even seen wealthy men come here in their fancy cars to pick up prostitutes or just any girl they can get their filthy hands on. This is a place where people kill or be killed. And either you can be stupid by trying to fix this, or you can be a smart douchebag about it and ignore the fact that lives are being ruined all around you. Here, there is no remorse, no sentiment, no mercy. It's every man for themselves.

"This place sickens me," I muttered and laid back down to finally get the rest I needed, ignoring the sounds of mankind's inner demons wreaking havoc.

...

I started out my morning with a bang. Literally. The radiator turned on and started making a bunch of noise which woke me up. I growled, "God dammit," and leaped out of bed. I stomped up to the machine and kicked it out of anger but I ended up hurting my foot. "Ow! Shit!" I growled again and hopped around holding my foot. Once the pain subsided I walked out of my room to check what I can eat for breakfast. Like usual, I didn't have anything good. I sighed, knowing I'll have to go out and buy myself a meal or get some damn groceries. Though it's better to get groceries, it's a bad idea because I'll end up forgetting about it and everything will go bad. Besides, I can always pickpocket someone. It's not that hard.

I walked back to my room, put on my shoes, jacket, sunglasses and cap on and then left my apartment. I put my hands in my hoodie pockets, feeling the wad of cash in my hand, and I made my way out of the ghetto I live in. I made it to a more moderate part of the city and walked into a local convenient store to buy myself some breakfast meal. I just got a breakfast taco and a cup of coffee. Once I paid for my things, I walked over to the eating area some of these places have and I indulged in the only food I'll probably have today. The coffee was bitter and strong, just the way I like it. And my breakfast taco was warm, which made me feel better since it's kind of cold outside. Its nearing autumn so of course cold fronts will be coming in.

I looked up and saw this girl reading a book in another booth in front of me. She seemed pretty enthralled by it and I looked at the cover. I just stared at it and then looked away. But then I looked back up at it and couldn't help myself. "Excuse me, ma'am?" I called out to the girl. She looked up from the book, looking slightly dazed. I asked her, "May I ask where you got that book?"

She smiled and pointed out the window, saying, "I got it from that book store a few blocks down. You can kind of see it from here." I turned and looked out the window to just barely see the book store. I nodded and said, "Thanks."

"No problem," she chimed and immediately went back to reading. Damn.

I stayed at that convenient store for several minutes until I was finished with my coffee and food. I threw away the trash and then left the store. Stopping by the curb, I took out my wad of cash and counted my money. I have at least eighty dollars left. Books shouldn't cost too much, right? I shrugged and put the money back in my pocket. I walked along the side walk until I was right across from that book store. I checked the street for passing cars and once it was cleared I quickly crossed over to the other side. I walked up to the bookstore entrance and stepped in.

It was warm within the store and it had a sweet, cozy scent. A decent amount of people were in here, walking through the aisles of books and picking some off of the shelves. I strolled through the aisle as well, looking at the many titles of many books. There were signs that categorized the books by fiction, dramas, horror, you name it. It's been a long, long time since I've read a decent novel. I think it's time I indulge in some pages. I looked all over and found various books that looked interesting but I had passed up in the end. That one book the girl was reading was what I wanted. I don't know why. Maybe it's the cover I guess...

I walked into the teens section and then that's when I saw it. I made my way to the shelf and pulled it out. It looked to be the last one. I held it in my hands and opened it up to read the summary in the flap inside. "Hmm," I hummed and turned the pages to the first chapter. I'll just see how it starts off. I read word after word, turned the page, and repeated. Then, a voice interrupted my reading, saying, "Hello," and I looked to my left. Standing there, holding a backpack strap around his shoulder, was a boy. He looked to be around his teens. He had bright red hair and faint freckles dotted on his cheeks. Despite the shade of my sunglasses, I could tell that his eyes were honey-brown, so much to the point where they could have been gold. This boy had a smile on his face which made him look younger and innocent, naive almost.

"Hi," I told him, hesitantly. He smiled a little more. He then looked down at the book in my hands and gasped. "Is that the new novel by Robert Oman?!"

"Robert O-who??" I mumbled. He chuckled and said, "Oh, he's this best-selling author. He's one of my favorites. I've been looking everywhere for the new book but it's selling out rather quickly."

"Well," I started, "Sorry to tell you this but this is the last book."

"Aw, man," he murmured and gave a defeated look to the shelf next to him. He looked down at the book and sighed. "Well, that's okay," he said, his disappointed mood changing almost too quickly, "I'll just wait for another shipment to come!" He flashed me a smile and I squint my eyes at him. He seems so bubbly. It's weird. Freaks me out a little...

"I hope you enjoy the book! I've heard great things about it. I'm sure you'll like it," he said and began turning to walk away. I watched him start to walk and I couldn't help but feel...guilty, for some reason. I groaned and called him out, "Hey!"

The boy stopped in his tracks and turned around. I looked at him and said, "Ya know...I haven't read that many books for a long time. And with how I handle things, I'll probably just read it and lose it. A book like this doesn't deserve to collect dust and be forgotten. You seem to really like the author's work too so this book must be a great piece of work. So..." I faltered and looked down, rubbing the back of my neck. "So...," I continued, "how about I give it to you when I'm done reading it...? You'd make better use of it than me anyways."

"Really?" he asked, eyes glittering with joy.

"Y-Yeah," I said.

He beamed and said, "Th-Thanks!"

"Don't mention it," I muttered. I pursed my lips and then snapped my gaze away from him, almost huffing. I started walking away when I heard the boy call out to me. I abruptly stopped, groaning slightly. "How much do you want for the book?"

"You don't have to pay me. I'll just give it to you," I stated.

"B-But-."

"You don't have to pay a dime, alright? It's fine," I said and began walking again. Then I heard him call me out again and I groaned. "H-Hey, uh, l-let me give you my number and address!"

He ran up next to me and I saw his face flush red. He took a step back from me and shook his hands in front of him, stammering, "N-Not that I'm flirting with you or anything! I just want to give them to you so you can contact me when you're done! So, it's not flirting, don't worry! Heh, heh...!"

I just glared at him and he could see that. He gave me a nervous, ditzy look and asked, "O-Or I could get your info-."

"Just give me yours," I ordered. He nodded and quickly scrambled around in his backpack. He took out a piece of paper and a pen and quickly wrote down his information. "There you go," he said and handed me the paper. I took it in my hand and put it inside the book. "Thanks, Freckles," I said, and began walking.

"My name is Elijah," he stated. I stopped for a moment and turned my head to the side to glance at him. "I like Freckles better," I said in a defiant tone.

"Oh," he mumbled, "uh...alright then.. See ya..!"

His enthusiasm made me scrunch my nose but my gaze ended up softening on him. I watched him turn and walk away, seeming to have more joy than when I first saw him. I turned and began walking to the front desk to purchase the book. Once it was done, I walked out of the store, with a small bag, which held the book and some receipts, in my hand. I slung the plastic bag over my shoulder and began walking, thinking about the places I can visit today, instead of going back to my dump of a home.

-

I KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS ARE WONDERING. WHY AM I MAKING A JANE THE KILLER FANFICTION? WELL, I'VE ACTUALLY HAD AN IDEA TO MAKE ONE BUT I NEVER REALLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT THAT MUCH. BUT SOMEONE ASKED ME IF I COULD MAKE ONE AND IT SORT OF JUST SPARKED MY INTEREST (thank you XxRoxyXxNight!). PLUS THERE'S NOT THAT MANY OUT THERE. I'M ALSO NOT INTO THE WHOLE JeffxJane THING, WHICH IS WHAT COMES UP MOST. SO HERE IT IS! MY JANE THE KILLER FANFICTION! I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT! AND, NO, IT IS NOT TIED INTO THE KP UNIVERSE. THIS IS A SEPARATE FANFICTION AND I WON'T BE PUTTING ANYTHING SUPERNATURAL IN IT, REALLY. I DON'T CARE IF I GET HATE FOR IT (because not a lot of people seem to like Jane and personally I find her to be awesome) I WILL WRITE THIS AND MAKE THE BEST GOD DIGGITY DANG JANE THE KILLER FANFICTION YA DUN SEEN!

Stay Creepy, My Friends!~