Please, Kill Me (Jeff the Killer x Reader)

Chapter 4 ✓

The air in the house was stagnant, thick with the smell of old ash and the copper tang of what had just happened in the basement. I watched Jeff move through the kitchen with a chilling normalcy. He didn't wash the blood off his face; he just drank water as if he were a weary traveler rather than a butcher. It looks like he didn't see me here at all. He even head out of the kitchen without sparing me a glance.

Following him into the living room felt like walking behind a ticking time bomb. When he finally spoke, his voice didn't carry the manic energy of his laughter—it was flat, almost bored.

"Uhm.." I actually don't know what to say to him, how to start.. for a moment my mind went blank.

I just stared at him while he leans on the sofa and staring at the ceiling, waiting till he sense my presence.

"What?" and now he speaks.

"I thought I was already dead because you treated me like a ghost for a minute.."

"Say what you want.." even though he did not move his head towards my direction I can sense that he is getting irritated.

"May I ask a question?"

"Hmm.." Does that mean continue?

"I want to know why you didn't kill me back at the hospital and on the road... " I ask then cautiously sat on the other side of the sofa waiting for his response. Silence. It was a calming silence for half a minute, and I guess he is not planning to answer my question. I don't know if he is asleep because his eyes were open. And honestly, how could you sleep like that anyway?

"Are you.. trying to.. uhm.. sleep?"

"No" he answered right away. And there I thought he was trying to sleep or maybe he didn't hear me or simply ignoring me?

"So what's your answer?"

"About what?" Is he for real? Did he not hear me earlier?

I take a deep breath before continuing, "..on why you didn't kill me in the hospital and on the road." Then silence. Again, it looks like I am just talking to a brick wall. I was going to leave and gave up asking, but I stopped when he sighed.

"Let us say... you're my first victim that never shows fear."

I leaned back into the worn fabric of the sofa, to relax my body for a while.  And showing no fear does not mean I was brave. Bravery requires something to lose, and I had been stripped of everything until I was nothing but a hollow shell. To him, it was a novelty. To me, it was just the truth of my existence that I am getting tired to live for.

"For now, I let you live," he had said. And once again, he moves like a silent killer. His face inches from mine, those unblinking eyes boring into me. "And then I will kill you after. You. Will. Die."

He spoke of my death as if it were a scheduled appointment, a factual inevitability. It should have sent shivers down my spine, but all I felt was a dull sense of anticipation. The "suffer" part—living in this unjust world—that was the part I was currently enduring.

"Uhm.. about my parents... I want to go back and take their corpse.. I-I want to hold them once more." I managed to mutter, then he laughed and leaned away as he stood up from the sofa.

"How can a weak girl like you carry those two bodies?" He asked mockingly as he shoved both of his hands in the pocket of his jeans. Well, he has a point.

"I do not care, I'll try. Or maybe, I'll get my phone if I can't bring them back with me. I am sure my phone is still in my car. I-I still have memories in there. Memories with them."

"Do you think that your phone is still there? And not taken by the police, including your parents?"

"I.. well.. uhm--" I stop when he puts his index finger to his lips.

"You can't leave the house," he said it like a cat purring, but sadistic. "Oh, and a little reminder, don't go to the basement. Don't think of escaping either.. well, as if you'll do it," he added before heading to the door.

"And where are you--" I stopped, the moment he pulls out his knife indicating that he is out to kill again. Why am I even bothered to ask a killer like that?

"Another thing, don't go out in the forest while I'm gone."

"Why?" I asked confusedly.

"And stop thinking about your phone!" He yelled without even answering my question on why am I not allowed to go to the forest without him, it's not like I will try to escape or meet someone to snitch him. After the door clicked shut and Jeff disappeared into the trees to continue his grisly cycle, the silence of the house became deafening.

Don't go to the basement. Don't go into the forest.

He spoke to me like I was a pet, or perhaps a prisoner he wasn't quite finished with. My thoughts drifted to the Oakwood Highway. My parents' cold bodies, Billy Hill's mangled corpse, and my phone—the only vessel left containing the voices and smiles of the people who loved me.

Then I noticed there's a small circular watch near the sofa. Its an old, blood-stained watch he owned, or probably he took from his previous victims. And I notice that it's already 6:53 in the morning.

If I am still thinking to disobey and head out, I might reach the road before the scene was completely cleared, or before the police processed every inch of our car. The fear in Jeff's voice—or was it a warning?—about the forest didn't sit right with me. Am I not allowed to go out because of the police, or because of something else lurking in the shadows of these trees?

I didn't care. If a wolf found me, or another monster like Jeff, it would only speed up the process he had so graciously delayed.

I stood up, my side burning as the fresh bandages stretched against my skin. I didn't have a weapon, and I didn't have a map. All I had was the direction Jeff had disappeared in and a desperate, aching need to hold a piece of my past one last time.

I stepped onto the porch. The morning air was biting, the fog clinging to the trunks of the trees like a shroud. The forest didn't look like a sanctuary; it looked like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole.

"I'm coming, Mom. Dad," I whispered to the wind.

I stepped off the creaking wood and into the tall, damp grass. Every step was a gamble with the pain in my waist, but I pushed forward. I wasn't escaping Jeff. I wasn't running to the police. I was just a ghost walking through the woods, looking for the only things that made me feel real.

And if Jeff was right—if the forest held something worse than a man with a carved smile—then maybe today was finally the day I wouldn't have to wake up.