The Truthful Lie -- Chapter 3

THE TRUTHFUL LIE
By: Darkinyron


I do not like this chapter at all. Sorry if I bore everyone off with it. I promise it’ll be better in the next one. Things are going to start picking up really fast after this one.


Chapter 3 -- Escape

There was something odd about the way the Creeper had been treating Jetseta in the past few days. The violations had abruptly ceased after the incident with the lungs, and now he seemed to be treating her like a queen. The habitual smelling of her body and hair continued, as expected, but the treatment she received was much more humane than it had been earlier, if it could even be called humane, that is. As she lifted her head from a short nap, Jetseta noticed that her water bucket had been refilled and a smaller one had been left by her full of various fruits and vegetables.

“What’s this?” she asked herself out loud; the unexpected gift of fresh food baffled her destabilized mind. She stared at the bucket as if it were an anomaly beyond belief, and suddenly she wondered how she had even survived the battle to this point. Not only had she lost massive amounts of blood, but she had grown disgustingly thin and susceptible to becoming even more sick than she already seemed to be. Germs of all sorts lingered in this filthy building, just waiting for the opportune moment to jump into her nostrils or an open slash. And yet somehow, she had stayed alive, and seemed to be doing even better now than she had before. Had it been the black ointment that kept her alive?

Jetseta lounged at the bucket of plants. Her starvation at this point seemed as great as the Creeper’s was for human meat, and although she heard his rustling clothes in one of the back rooms she was too hungry to be afraid or to investigate. Inside she found a few ears of corn, potatoes, some small melons, an apple, tomatoes, carrots, and some various berries. She snatched the apple, brushed off its shiny, dark red hide and sank her teeth into it, ripped a giant piece of the fruit’s flesh away and chewed it greedily. It felt like decades since she had savoured the taste of a simple fresh fruit, and her taste buds flared with delight.

“I figured you would be hungry,” the Creeper uttered from behind her, his voice raspy and old sounding, as well as heavily accented. She whipped her head around, a scowl already plastered on her face to find him grinning with those needlelike teeth. She tore another chunk of the apple off and chewed it angrily, not even wincing as she noticed the preserved body of a teenage boy propped up beside him, his brain and eyes missing. In the Creeper’s hand was most of his cranium, its brain sitting upon it like a turkey on a dinner plate. Jetseta’s body told her to vomit, but she held it down and just kept eating. The task of holding her sickness down was becoming easier with each killing. It was just like learning to walk, only now she was learning to cope with dead bodies and the reek of the preservatives put inside them.

She was not going to give him the satisfaction of feeling her fear.

So instead she watched as he moved behind the boy’s body and looked through the mutilated eye sockets at her. He flexed his eyebrows a few times, showing off his new pair of brown eyes which he had stolen from the victim. Jetseta’s lip curled; was he trying to amuse her? She looked away and into her bucket, picked out a few blueberries and glanced back, popping them into her mouth.

He winked at her through those eye sockets and laughed. Jetseta simply rolled her eyes and turned away with disgust surging through her veins. At least the boy was already done with his suffering, and could move on to the next life, so she didn’t have to listen to his cries for mercy and freedom. The silent scream that his mouth was frozen into gave her no doubt that he had indeed vocalized them.

When will this be over, so I can just leave and go home to my family? He HAS to be almost done with his feeding month; I know I’ve been here over two weeks! Please, just let there be only a few more days. I’m so tired and sick, how does he expect me to go on? It’s amazing the fucking smell hasn’t killed me!

She sat and silently prayed to forces she never believed existed, even now. If there had been something out there, wouldn’t it have given her a sign of hope? No, and there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the dead ones were the same way. She finished her apple quietly as a lone tear trailed down her face and into the fruit’s white meat.

I need to get out of here. Now.

Almost instinctively something told her turn around again; the Creeper was flexing his wings in frustration as he tried to feed a thick piece of string through the eye of a large needle. Could this be her chance? She couldn’t just hope to run for the door and be out, no, he was too fast and too strong to fight off. She was too weak to attempt any sort of physical battle with the large creature, and with no weapon in her possession, she decided against an attempted escape.

Then again, hadn’t she heard of victims managing miraculous escapes from serial killers? Didn’t they always happen when the dangerous one was distracted or frustrated, or even tired? Certainly they had, and although it was indeed a rarity, it was possible.

A soft ping entered her ears, and she noticed that the Creeper had dropped his needle. It rolled under the table and disappeared into a shadow that she couldn’t penetrate with her eyesight. He growled, tossed the string aside and bent over, right in front of her, to search for the needle under the table.

Disgusted, Jetseta almost ducked away, until a thought crossed her twisting mind. He was totally exposed as he looked upon the tiled floor, picking at large cracks in it and making noises with his claws that seemed an equivalent to nails on a blackboard. Clinging to her robes, Jetseta leapt off of her table. He was only a few feet away, paying no attention to her. A grin crossed her filthy face.

And before she even knew what she had done, a vociferous and high-pitched howl pierced through her ears, forcing her to flinch back to her table. She looked back, eyes bulging, just to see the pathetic form of the Creeper curled into a ball, his eyes clenched tight, the rest of his face contorted into an expression of unfamiliar pain. His claws immediately clenched the sensitive area between his legs that had been kicked and he bawled.

“Hah!” Jetseta laughed victoriously at the dismal creature, who once struck such fear into her that she cried herself to dehydration. Though now, as tears escaped her eyes, only the feeling of humiliation from the Creeper and amusement from Jetseta herself filled the air.

She broke into a run for the door, still laughing and ignoring the fact that her lungs were begging her to stop one or the other to replenish her levels of oxygen. But as she made it past the first doorway, and then the second, it seemed to take care of itself, and she just kept running until she found the exit. It was in a room she had never been in, but the building itself was easy to navigate. There was no sign of the winged creature following her as she turned the knob to freedom.

Outside, the sun greeted her, as did a road that was peeking out from behind a mess of pine trees. Looking back only for a second, she darted for it, dodging the trees toward its welcoming arms of asphalt. The deceiving road presented itself as a smooth, easy to run on surface, but it was extremely hot, and wide. It was also deserted.

“Fuck, you just had to be the East 9!” Jetseta cursed at the black path. She looked from side to side and craned her neck, but all she could see was an endless corn field stretching from horizon to horizon. She randomly darted left and started to run again. Somewhere in the fields she heard the unmistakable cawing of crows.

* * * * *

For some reason, the Creeper never came after her. Surely, she couldn’t have injured him that bad; her mother had told her numerous times in her stories that nothing could hurt it for long. Even in normal men, the pain of being kicked where the sun didn’t shine was a temporary thing, despite the consequences. So, remembering this, she decided that he simply had more important tasks to attend to. By now, about a half hour after her unexpected escape, she was staggering down the middle of the East 9 to an unknown destination. The heat beat down on her from above and lifted off of the road itself, tiring her further. She wished for water as mirages appeared ahead, and if she had anything underneath those heavy black robes, she would have shed them in a second. She didn’t though, and she dealt with them.

She walked for what seemed like days up the East 9, though in reality, it was a little over an hour when she heard an engine slow behind her. She opened her eyes—she had been walking with them closed to block out the bright sunlight—and found that a police car had come to a stop. A bald man opened the door and walked over to her; he squinted and shielded his eyes as he gazed upon her filthy and wrecked body.

“What is your name, miss?” the officer asked kindly.

“Jetseta,” she croaked. The voice that had earlier produced an insane laugh was long dormant again.

The cop blinked a few times, but the young woman walked toward him and leaned her head against his shoulder. It had been so long since she had seen a living human face that she had forgotten just what one looked like. She stayed there as the man spoke into his portable radio, responding to cracked messages that sailed invisibly over the corn fields.

“Yes, she claims to be the missing girl that disappeared about three weeks ago. I’m going to be bringing her in. Please notify her parents and the hospital.”

“Copy that,” the female voice from the radio replied.

“Do you need medical aid?” the officer asked her kindly.

A cough, but Jetseta smiled a bit. It had been so long since she had smiled that her face hurt to contort the muscles into just a slight one. “I think I’m alright for now. My injuries are minor.”

“We’re still going to get you to a hospital as soon as possible, ma’am. I’m going to take you to the station, from there, an ambulance should be waiting, or else your parents.” The policeman helped her into the back seat of his Chevy, where so many people had undoubtedly sat in handcuffs. She leaned back and finally took the opportunity to relax after her ordeal. The officer seemed to notice this, for his questions were few and far between as they drove off towards the police station. He didn’t even ask her to strap herself in when she laid down across the back seat.

* * * * *

Trisha and her family were already waiting at the police station when Jetseta and her uniformed rescuer arrived. Upon seeing her daughter, tears released themselves from her eyes. It was a rare thing to see Patricia cry, but when she did, it was near impossible for her to stop. Even under the robes, and caked on layers of dirt and grime that covered her, Trisha recognized Jetseta as if that were how she always appeared. Her friends and family had been right; hope really wouldn‘t fail them this time.

“Mommy!” Jetseta cried, stumbling out of the car towards her family. “Daddy! Oh my god, I never thought I would ever see you again!” Cried was perhaps too weak a word to describe her intense enthusiasm; she was just too amazed to see the ones she loved once again. She embraced them, clinging weakly but with enough energy to get her point across. Her parents held her, ignoring how deathly she reeked and how dirty their clothes became. The Creeper didn’t exactly provide fresh clothes on a daily basis, after all.

“Jetseta, tell me this isn’t a dream. We have been so worried about you, and your mother said you wouldn’t be coming home!”

“Oh Jetseta, we were so scared! We thought we had lost you forever!”

“I’m fine, or, I think,” Jetseta mumbled. She was clearly tired, and still afraid, for her eyes were still very alert and her head was on a swivel. “He’s still very much alive. I don’t feel this is the end.”

Another deputy arrived, butting into their conversation to give Jetseta a brief visual inspection. “You‘re going to have to take her to the hospital. Since she has no life-threatening injuries, we are going to allow you to drive her there by car. Another officer will follow you to ensure your safety, since we have a good idea that the perpetrator is still out there.”

“Thank you,” Jetseta’s father said, relieved.

* * * * *

A while later, Jetseta was resting comfortably in a hospital bed, silent, as a nurse examined her body. She pressed in various areas, asking Jetseta if it hurt, but rarely received any form of an answer unless it actually did hurt; her pain seemed to focus mostly in her abdomen and vaginal area. The hospital staff was puzzled by the black ointment between her legs and on her other wounds, but didn’t question it. Their sympathies went out to the family that worried about their daughter, as did promises that they would do all they could to help. Jeffrey arrived that evening in a state of panic after work, eager to see his battered girlfriend’s living face.

“The doctor is going to be in to speak with you in a few minutes,” the nurse warned softly. “He’ll take you in for a CAT scan and an x-ray.”

Jetseta made no response, that is, until Jeffrey burst in through the door, nearly toppling the young Asian nurse on her way out. The woman smiled at the scene of the twenty year old hugging Jetseta before closing the door, giving them a few moment in peace.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Jeff was saying. “I was feeling so guilty; this is all my fault...”

“Don’t say that,” Jetseta replied, finally smiling for the first time in weeks. “I missed you. There’s nothing you could have done.”

He kissed her happily and held her tight. “I’m not going to let that man take you again. You’re all mine from now on.”

The smile that was so bright and wide at first faded when Jeff looked into his girlfriend’s hunter-green eyes. He knew at once, without any explanation, that she hadn’t just been battered and starved. Just by the look in her eyes, he read everything.

“He...He...”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Jeff said. He stroked her hair gently, despite how tangled and filthy it was. From that moment on he silently vowed to himself and to her that he would do whatever he could to protect her for the rest of her life. He was willing to deal with any mental problems that came out of this, just as Trisha’s husband had for so many years.

A quick knock and a chubby bald doctor came in through the doors, a clipboard and pen in hand. He smiled briefly and shut it behind him, sighing as he looked upon Jetseta. She could practically smell the pity radiating off of his body as he approached.

“Hello Jetseta, I’m Doctor Martin,” the chubby man spoke. “I’m going to be taking care of you tonight.”

A brief smile from his patient and nothing more but a clutch on Jeff’s hand. She was scared, but otherwise calm. The large doctor sat down upon his examiner’s chair and began to look over her facial appearance, and slowly down her body, making little notes on the loose-leaf paper attached to his clip-board. He did this quickly before replacing it with a medical form, which for now, remained blank.

“The nurse told me you are having some abdominal aching, and some head injuries?” the doctor questioned, more to assure himself that his relayed information had been correct.

“Yes.”

“We’re going to get you a CT scan for you head Hun, you may have a concussion.”

“I probably do. My head was a basketball more than once.” Jetseta didn’t even seem to notice her own sarcasm. Then again, it probably wasn’t to begin with.

The doctor nodded and began to look at her vaginal wound. Oh how she hated the man’s eyes as they widened; to him the black substance probably resembled dried blood more than a primitive ointment. He strapped on a glove and performed a simple examination; the way his face screwed up assured her that he didn’t like what he felt.

“I think we may get an ultrasound on your abdomen, Hun. I’m worried about any injuries you may have sustained down there.”

“So am I,” Jetseta whispered, almost to herself. She was staring out the window, spacing out so she could travel to her land of perfection. In the perfect world, nothing would ever become this stressful.

Although promising a CAT scan, the doctor inserted and IV and took a blood sample first. Jetseta hardly noticed the needle pricks that were nothing compared to the thorns she had felt inside of her as she was raped by the Creeper. His unforgettable grin flashed by her vision for a moment, so opaque that she could have sworn he had actually been there. Had he? Had the monster just appeared in the window?

Blinking, the image was gone. There was nothing more, just the top leaves of a maple tree and stars in the distance. She felt her grip on Jeff’s hand tightening, and his reply was a smile and a reminder that everything was going to be okay now.

But will I be okay? Is this really over, and if not, what’s next? What else do I have to endure? Even though I’m away from that beast, is he going to come back after me and my family? Is he going to haunt us for another twenty-three years before coming back to repeat his torture for another twenty-three days?

Something inside her told her to be weary. This wasn’t over yet. She knew at least one of her tests would come back positive for evil. And if not evil, what good could come out of this?

To her, nothing. A hospital never meant anything encouraging. So as she was separated from Jeffrey once again and wheeled into the CAT scan room, the fear settled itself in her body, right in the middle of her heart as a dark cloud passed over her head, which turned into a shadow that would follow her for the rest of her life...