Please, Kill Me (Jeff the Killer x Reader)

Chapter 3 ✓

Minutes have passed, but Jeff is still not finish. He kept on stabbing the man with a rhythmic, obsessive violence, as if he were settling a debt that could never be fully paid. I watched him-the man who had slaughtered a hallway of people back the apartment where I live, the man who had loomed over my hospital bed, the man who continued to let me breathe for reasons I couldn't comprehend.

"Don't look at me like that," he snarled, finally pulling away from his "work."

"Why did you-"

"To clarify," he interrupted, his voice like grinding stones, "I did not intend to save you." He drove his knife into the man's skull one last time with the sickening strike of his blade entering a melon.

He turned his head toward me. In the moonlight, his face was a landscape of horrors: the lidless eyes, the leathery, pallid skin, and that permanent, red-rimmed smile. I stared at those carved cheeks, wondering for the first time if he was actually capable of feeling the joy his face projected.

"I've been wanting to kill this man for a week," he added, his gaze never wavering.
I forced myself to my feet, my head throbbing with a dull, rhythmic ache. I ignored it. I walked toward him until only a few feet of blood-stained asphalt separated us.

"Why didn't you do it?" I asked, my voice hollow. "In the hospital... why did you leave me alive?"

Jeff tilted his head, his dark, endless eyes scanning me. "You want to die that badly?" It sounded less like a question and more like a cruel mockery.

"Yes," I whispered, staring into the dark void of his pupils. "I have nothing left. I'm tired. I'm just... so tired." My parents were gone-the only anchors I had in a world that had always tried to drown me. Without them, I have no other reasons to live anymore.

Suddenly, he was there right in front of me. His footsteps are silent as ever. The air shifted as he moved, and for the second time, I felt the bite of his steel against my throat. I waited for the surge of adrenaline, the instinctual fear that makes a heart race. But it never came, maybe I am indeed tired to even feel fear especially after my parents died right in front of me and I did not even do anything. In fact, the cold metal felt oddly soothing-a promise of rest. A thin trail of warmth began to trickle down my neck where the blade nicked the skin.

"I want to kill you," he whispered, leaning so close his breath chilled my ear. "But I think I'd rather watch you suffer in this unjust world. That sounds like much more fun... for me."

He pulled the knife away. Disappointment washed over me like ice water. He was going to leave me again. Without thinking, I reached out and gripped his wrist, my fingers tightening over his cold skin.

"Please," I choked out. "Kill me! I'm done! I don't want to be here anymore... I should have died that night! Why won't you just finish it?"

My hands trembled, clutching him with a strength born of pure desperation. It was a plea he had likely never heard-most people begged for the opposite.

"Let go," he commanded.

I shook my head, hot tears finally spilling over and splashing onto the dark road. My energy was draining, my limbs feeling heavy as if a sedative had been pumped into my veins. "Why... why can't you... understand..."

The world began to tilt. The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was a flash of red-my own blood soaking through my bandages. And in the distance, I thought I saw my parents, their faces soft and smiling, waiting for me.

Don't die.

Live, Y/N.

You're just tired... you just need a break.

I snapped awake, gasping as if I'd just broken the surface of a deep, dark ocean. My lungs burned. I looked around a room I didn't recognize, the realization that I was still alive hitting me like a physical weight.

I pulled back the moth-eaten blanket. Someone had replaced my bandages, wrapping my waist with clean, white linen. Nearby sat a bucket of pinkish water cause by my blood, I assume, and a stained towel.

The room was a ruin. It looked like a house that had survived a fire decades ago and had been left to rot ever since. The walls were pockmarked with holes, the closet was charred, and the curtains were nothing but tattered rags. I limped to the window and pried it open. I expected to see a street, a town, a sign of life-instead, there was only a sea of ancient trees and overgrown grass. I was deep in the forest, far from the reach of the world.

"My parents..." I whispered. The memory of the road hit me.

I ignored the searing pain in my side and stumbled out of the room. The hallway was a graveyard of splintered wood and peeling wallpaper. However, I saw a small device that produced static sounds. I reached a small table where an old, battered radio sat, emitting a low, unintelligible words. I fumbled with the antenna, desperate for a signal.

<...Newsbreak: Last night, a resident passing Oakwood Highway discovered two vehicles...>

I held my breath.

<...Three bodies were identified: F/N and M/N L/N, and a man named Billy Hill. Reports indicate the couple was shot by Hill before he was brutally stabbed to death. Police are currently searching for the couple's daughter, Y/N L/N, who is missing from the scene. They have not ruled her out as a suspect...>

I clicked the radio off. A suspect. It didn't matter. Let them think I did it. Let them hunt for a girl who no longer existed because soon enough I will die anyways.. but I still want to see my parents one last time.

"AHHH! HELP-!"

I flinched, when a blood-curdling scream ripped through the silence of the house making my heart hammering against my ribs. The sound had come from below, probably a in the basement. I followed the noise to a heavy door in the kitchen. I pushed it open to find a staircase leading into a pitch-black basement. I descended slowly, the air growing colder and smelling of damp earth and iron.

At the bottom, a single lightbulb swayed on a wire. In its flickering light, I saw a woman tied to a chair. She was a mess of smeared makeup and expensive clothes, her eyes wide and bloodshot with terror. Jeff stood before her, but he didn't have his signature knife this time. He was holding a heavy, rusted axe.

"Why are you here?" he asked, not looking up.

"MMHMMM!!" the woman muffled through the duct tape on her mouth, her eyes pleading with me.

"Get out," Jeff added, still not sparing a glance towards me.

"I think you-"

"OUT!" he roared, the sound echoing off the stone walls.

I didn't move, not because I stubbornly want to oppose him, I just couldn't move. I do not even know what I want to try to say, until Jeff dropped the axe with a heavy clang and moved toward me in a blur. He pinned me against the rough wall, his pale face inches from mine.

"You want to die, right?" he hissed. "Then do as I say, and maybe I'll give you what you want."

He pushed me aside and reached for the axe. "I work alone. Go."

I looked at the woman one last time. She was shaking her head, her muffled sobs filling the room. I looked at her, and for a moment, I felt a strange envy. She was about to get exactly what I had been begging for.

It's for the best, I thought. Don't be afraid. It'll be over soon.

I turned and walked back up the stairs, closing the kitchen door behind me. I sat at the wooden table and waited.

A moment later, I heard the heavy, rhythmic thud of the axe meeting bone. Then, finally, there was silence.