Please, Kill Me (Jeff the Killer x Reader)

Chapter 9 ✓

I woke up on hard ground, the grit of the floor pressing against my cheek. When I rubbed my eyes, I saw it-my parents' house. Our house.

A thick, grey fog swallowed the yard, and the sky was a bruised purple. The entire town looked like a ghost town, silent and hollow. I knew it was a dream, but the familiar ache in my chest felt all too real. I pushed open the front door. It was pitch black inside, the air stagnant. I flicked the light switch, but nothing happened. I reached above the cabinet, my fingers finding the old flashlight. Its beam cut through the darkness, revealing a living room that hadn't changed a bit.

"Our little cupcake.."

That voice. My heart hammered against my ribs-a mix of joy and agonizing guilt. I ran for the stairs where I believe the voice come from.

"Mom! Where are you?" I shouted into the empty hallway. As I rushed toward their bedroom, something crunched under my foot. I knelt and picked it up. My phone. The screen flickered to life with a message from Dr. Caitlyn. I frowned at the text for a second before shoving the device into my pocket. It didn't matter. Not now.

"Y/N?"

"Mom, I'm coming!" I burst into their room. Once I finally reach it, I immediately pushed it open. They were standing on the balcony, their backs facing me, staring into the fog.

"M-Mom... Dad... I'm home," I whispered, dropping the flashlight. I do not care if this is real or not. I ran toward them, a smile breaking across my face, but it vanished the moment I saw what they were standing on. They were balanced on thin wooden planks, thick hemp ropes looped around their necks.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

They turned to look at me, their expressions blank, like dolls. I felt horror to see them in the situation I plan myself to be.

"Y/N, live. That is my wish," my mother said. And then, they jumped.

"NO!"

I lunged forward, my fingers grasping at empty air, but the balcony vanished. The house vanished.

I sat bolt upright in the abandoned house, the scream still dying in my throat. It wasn't a dream anymore; it was a memory I couldn't escape. I curled into a ball, hugging my knees as the sobs racked my body. I was the one who wanted this. I was the one who deserved the rope. Why was I still breathing while they were cold in the ground?

What was the point?

To suffer. And then I will kill you.

Jeff's words echoed in the quiet room. Then I looked at the window. I felt blank, this time no words ringing in my head to stop me. The moon was high, and the grass below swayed like a beckoning hand. There was no one here to stop me this time. No parents to protect, no expectations to meet.

"I'm... sorry," I whispered, tears blurring my vision as I climbed onto the windowpane. I didn't hesitate, I am planning to end this all. I can't live like this anymore..

"Fuck!"

A pair of powerful arms snatched me out of the air, the force of the save jerking my spine.

"Just let go! I can't do this anymore!" I screamed, thrashing against his grip, but it was like fighting a statue. Jeff hauled me back through the window and threw me onto the floor. I hit the wood with a heavy thud, my hair splaying across my face.

"W-Why?" I sobbed into the floorboards. "Why did you stop me?"

"I fucking told you!" Jeff roared, his voice trembling with a terrifying rage. "I'll be the one who is going to kill you!"

"Then do it now! Just do it!"

I heard the metallic shink of his knife being drawn. He crouched over me, and suddenly, a white-hot line of pain seared through my left thigh. I gasped, looking down to see a deep, jagged slice opening in my flesh. Jeff was hovering over me, one hand pinned to the floor by my waist, the other clutching the crimson-stained blade.

"See? I'm not satisfied yet," he hissed, his lidless eyes inches from mine. "I see no fear in you. To you, death is a freedom. I won't give you that yet." Then je stood up, his tall silhouette blocking out the moonlight.

"Tell me," I choked out, looking up at him through tear-stained lashes while gripping my wounded thigh, "Does it make you happy? To kill endlessly?"

And then there was a long, heavy pause.

"More than you can imagine," he muttered. Its sadistic, yet, it holds a deep meaning underneath him. He turned, walked out, and slammed the door so hard the walls shook.

I groaned, clutching my thigh. I didn't feel it earlier, but now it slowly becoming painful. The blood was warm and thick. I didn't have bandages, so I decided to ripped a strip from the hem of my shirt and tied it tightly around the wound. I didn't have a needle to stitch it; I just lay back on the bed and watched the blood soak through the fabric.

I smirked into the darkness. And then I had a crazy idea that maybe I would just bleed out and died from a loss of blood. Maybe, finally, I'd get my wish.

+++

The morning sun was a physical sting against my eyes. I reached for the blanket to cover my head, then froze. The blanket. I hadn't pulled a blanket over myself last night. I looked down at my leg. The makeshift bandage was gone, replaced by neat, professional stitches and fresh gauze.

Did he do this?

I forced myself out of bed, the pain in my thigh a dull, throbbing reminder of his anger. I limped toward the stairs, but my leg gave way on the first step. I tumbled forward, bracing for the impact, but I never hit the floor.

"J-Jeff?"

He caught me by the waist, holding me steady for a beat before abruptly letting go.

"Expecting someone else?" he asked tonelessly. He walked past me to the sofa and slumped down. I followed him, sitting in the creaky wooden chair nearby. I do not know how to face him after yesterday, in fact, I keep trying to get ahead of him about ending myself.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "About the window."

"Why are you sorry?" he asked, his voice full of disgust. I went silent, waiting till my mind find some words on what to say.

"I don't give a fuck about you," he continued. "All I want is to reach my satisfaction when I finally end you."

"I know," I said, looking at him. For the first time, I didn't see a monster; I saw the only person left in my world even though he is a killer and I should never think of him as someone who will stay and care for me, but his actions explain otherwise, or maybe I am just overhtinking things.

"And I promise... when the time comes for you to end messages, I'll make it worth your while." I said and then Jeff looked at me with his carved smile, but for a split second, something flickered in his eyes-a dark, genuine spark of interest.

"I'll remember that," he muttered.

"Sure." I smiled at him. It was a small, weak thing, but it was real.

Jeff actually looked recoiled for a moment. "Why are you smiling at me?"

"Nothing... I'm just glad to be here, I guess."

He stared at me as if I had grown a second head. "What?"

I didn't explain. How could I? I was the victim of a serial killer, a hostage in an abandoned house, but in his twisted way, he was the only thing keeping the darkness of my own mind at bay. I was glad to be "taken care of," even if the end goal was my blood on his hands.

Because at the end of this road, I knew he would keep his promise. And I would finally be free.

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