Once we made it to my apartment, I found the door was unlocked.

I slowly opened the door, my hand on my gun, while Jeff had his knife ready.

Yeah, a serial killer and a cop were teaming up to catch a home intruder.

I heard a meow, and looked down to see the apartment buildings cat, purring and rubbing against Jeff.

He looked at me, an unsure look in his eyes.

"She's nice, don't worry." I whispered.

He nodded and bent down, petting her.

I continued into the apartment, which was a mess, broken glass and scattered papers littered the floor, making me internally groan as I thought about all the cleaning and refiling I'd have to do later.

I heard rustling from inside my bedroom, I turned around and signaled for Jeff.

He glanced up at me and shooed the cat away before grabbing his knife and walking quietly over to me.

I stood behind the door, hand on the door handle, as Jeff peeked into the room.

A agitated look spread onto his face.

"It's your ex." He muttered.

I rolled my eyes and pointed my gun into the room, then kicked the door the rest of the way open.

"HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM." I yelled in a commanding voice.

He jumped and spun around, putting his hands up.

"Oh, it's just you, baby! You scared me! Don't ever do that again!" He chuckled.

"Don't call me baby you cunt." I spat, keeping my gun aimed at his head.

"Don't act like that, bitch. You need me, and you know it. Now put the fucking gun down and get over here." He threatened.

"Or what? You'll hit me? I've got a fucking gun aimed at your head, Jacob, don't act so tough. I don't need you, at all." I said, my finger taking the gun off safety.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jeff, watching us both, or more specifically, he was watching me.

"Put the god damn gun down, (Y/N)." He ordered.

"No." I argued, my finger moving to the trigger.

"You aren't gonna shoot me. You don't have the balls." He laughed.

"I'm not going to shoot you, you're right. I've got someone else who'll take care of you. And he's damn good at getting away with it." I smirked.

Jeff walked through the door, making his entrance as dramatic as possible.

He chuckled and came to stand beside me.

"She's right, I avoided her ass for 5 years straight. Only reason she ever saw me was because I let her." He said, glancing at me.

I rolled my eyes and handed him my gun.

"Oh, I won't need that, honey, I've got my own weapon." He said.

"Don't call me honey." I shook my head.

"Fine. Can I kill this prick now? I know how to clean up. And you owe me one, don't forget." He said, focusing on Jacob.

"Go for it. This is the only exception, though." I began to leave the room, and went to close the door behind me until I heard a voice.

"W-wait! Baby, I didn't mean it! I love you, please! I'll buy you whatever you want! I'll even clean up the house!" Jacob begged, trying to run after me.

Jeff stopped him, sending a punch straight into his jaw.

"Ooh- that had to hurt." I cringed.

"Have fun Jeff, let me know when you're done. And don't make it too loud." I said, waving as I closed the door.

"Yes ma'am." I heard Jeff say, right before he began laughing.

"NO! STOP! PL-" I heard a slice.

"She said to be quiet, you bastard. Maybe if you didn't hit her all the time, she wouldn't of let me do this. You get what you deserve." Jeff said quietly.

I knew Jacob was dead, but I didn't feel bad.

In fact, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

If that's what getting rid of one person does, what would getting rid of another feel like?

Would I feel the relief I feel now?

No, stop thinking like that.

Your job is to put people like that in prison, not let them kill people.

Take your meds.

Yeah, they'll help.

They have to help.

Right?

I shook my head and rushed to my bathroom.

I opened the medicine cabinet and took out a few bottles of pills, reading the labels before finding the right ones.

Anti-psychotics.

Asenapine.

I shook out two pills and swallowed them dry.

I gasped for air as I leaned on the sink, looking up at myself in the mirror.

I sighed as closed my eyes for a few seconds, opening them when I heard someone behind me.

I saw Jeff, staring at our reflections.

He was covered in blood, a few droplets across the bridge of his nose, making it look like he had red freckles.

"Thank you." I choked, feeling myself wanting to cry.

He put a hand on my shoulder, leaving a red handprint on my white button-up.

"I'll clean up, you get some rest on the couch." He said quietly.

"I've got it. I'll call in sick tomorrow. You can go back into hiding. I won't tell anyone about us meeting." I whispered, still trying not to cry.

"Y'know it's alright to cry, right? It's not like I can make fun of it to anyone besides you." He chuckled.

I smiled, laughing a bit.

"Yeah." I said, wiping my eyes on my sleeve.

He chuckled again and ruffled my hair, pushing my head down.

I batted his hand away playfully.

It's like talking with a friend.

This is wrong.

He's a murderer.

There's a dead person in my bedroom.

There's blood on his hands, and now it's on my clothes and in my hair.

But it feels good to have a friend.

Maybe he's not all that bad.

I mean, he's only killed people who deserve it, right?