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Why had Jeff been gone?
Because nobody was safe here, because even after his torture session, has was still in a mood. The mood to kill, the mood to sink his blade into flesh and rip it open. He couldn't stay here without ending someone's life, and that would have him kicked out. Where else would he have gone, boss would find him instantly, and that was the last at thing Jeff wanted. Boss would probably have his head by now, quite literally. So, to avoid all that, Jeff ran, only taking his knife and an old camera and bag to carry pictures.
Now, the white husky had returned, eyes crazed and new blood splatters covering his pelt. His carved smile was fresh and even still bleeding. The thick, crimson liquid dribbled down his cheeks, causing his tongue to flick out every so often and catch a drop, to which he would chuckle at. The knife was polished still, but his horrible odor showed that Jeff hadn't bathed in quiet some time. He didn't mind though, it didn't matter how he smelled or not. All that matters was that he was back.
He was in the middle of camp, sat, pictures scattered around him. Each one was a picture of a different victim, each horribly and brutally mangled. Some had no eyes, some had no head, some were missing limbs and some had their insides spilling messily onto the ground. One even had their ears shoved into their mouth. One thing that was in common, that everyone in the picture with a visible face had a smile deeply carved into their cheeks, just like Jeff's.
The man sat there, laughing. He'd manage to calm down, but he'd look at another one and be filled with such pride and joy that he'd fall into another horrible laughing fit. He had been doing this for quite some time now.