Please, Kill Me (Jeff the Killer x Reader)

Chapter 15 ✓

I won't.

Those were the last words I heard before the vision of my mother faded into the gray mist. I woke up on the cold, damp earth. I wasn't dead. If Jeff had found me while I was unconscious, I wouldn't be breathing after I slap him earlier. The fact that I was still alive meant I had a choice to make: live for the wish my mother made, or succumb to the end I had been craving.

Forgive myself? How could I, when the weight of the people I’ve hurt sits like lead in my chest?

I stood up, my legs shaking, and began to walk into the unknown. After a few minutes, my boot brushed against something thin and crinkled. I knelt and picked it up. A scrap of paper.

A diary entry.

I scanned the forest, expecting the ghost from earlier to leap from the shadows, but the fog remained still. I turned my attention to the jagged handwriting on the page.

Dear Diary,
I did not want to hurt them, but out of my rage, I could not stop. But no—it wasn't me. The curse did this. The curse inside me took hold. I never wanted to be this thing...

A curse? Was she cursed? By whom?

Still curious about what I just read, I quickly put it inside my pocket and began searching for the other papers.

Suddenly, a low groan echoed through the trees. I ducked behind a thick, rotting trunk and peeked out. The ghost was there, her broken jaw swaying. Beyond her, I saw a flash of a white hoodie. It was Jeff. He is searching for me, his movements sharp and predatory. It would be my chance if he wanted to kill me already after I slapped him, but something tells me to delay that for a while.

Part of me wanted to scream, to warn him that the ghost was right there, but I bit my tongue. He was a killer; he could handle himself. My only hope for survival—or a meaningful death—lay in those pages. The ghost sensed him and vanished into thin air. That was my cue. I slipped away into the deeper fog, searching for the scattered history of a dead woman.

+++

Jeff can't believe that woman actually had the nerve to slap  him. She doesn't look like a person who will throw hands just like that. His cheek still stung, a burning reminder of her defiance. In fact, Jeff spent a week treating her like a project, a toy to be broken at my leisure, but after that slap? The game was over. He had decided. He was going to kill her now. No more waiting for 'the right time.' No one ever dared to do that and stay alive.

Jeff already pictured it clearly: a deep thrust to the stomach, a slow twist of the blade, and then he will watch the light leave her eyes while she finally gave  him the scream he deserved. He will make her pay for  slapping him after putting an effort o get her phone from the precinct, this is how she will repay him? Ha! But the forest is like a fucking maze. He'd been walking for what felt like hours, and the bitch was nowhere to be found. Since when did she get so good at hiding?

Suddenly, a vibration hummed in Jeff's pocket. He reached in and pulled out that piece-of-shit phone he'd stolen from the police station for her and saw the cause of the noise---an alarm was going off on the screen: Medicine.

"I don't give a fuck," Jeff growled, staring at the glowing screen with disgust.

Why did he even go back for this? Telling myself it was to make her suffer, to hold her past over her head, but now... he was doubting his own damn mind.

"Fuck this phone!" Jeff hissed, throwing it into the dirt. It was useless. She was going to be dead soon anyway. That quiet, cereal-eating, door-locking bitch was—

It's dangerous outside.

The memory of her voice—not screaming, but caring—hit him like a physical blow. Why would a victim care if her killer was safe? It was insane. Jeff was insane.

"JUST KILL HER, JEFF!" He yelled at the trees, pulling at his hair until  the scalp burned. "KILL THE BITCH!"

No... not now.

"THEN WHEN!?"

You can't lose her yet. She's the last person left who actually looked at you and see not a monster. She's the last one who cared. Who cried for you..

Jeff froze, his breath hitch in his throat. He doesn't need anyone to care. He doesn't need—

Suddenly a blood-curdling shriek cut through his thoughts. He spun around and saw the ghost with the broken jaw floating towards Jeff, her eyes hollow pits of malice.

"You really hate me, don't you?" Jeff grinned, my grip tightening on my knife. The sight of her made her even angrier. She flickered, teleporting directly in front of me, her cold hands reaching for his throat.

I dived to the side, rolling through the ash and sand. "Maybe you haven't heard of me, bitch," Jeff taunted, popping back up to his feet. "Want to die a second time?"

She screamed again, a sound that vibrated the very air, and lunged. Jeff  remained focused and his reflexes taking over. She was fast, but Jeff was faster, that is one of his great skill. But when Jeff try to slash his knife, he immediately reminded that a ghost can't be physically killed.

"Right. Hard to kill a shadow," Jeff sneered. "Do me a favor? Turn back into a human for five minutes so I can show you how I work."

That did it. The ghost felt insulted and let out a sound that wasn't a scream—it was a roar of pure power. The ground beneath his boots began to heave and crack. Jeff lost my balance, stumbling back as the trees themselves seemed to lean in to crush me.

"Shit," Jeff muttered while looking up. She was hovering over  him, her form glowing with a sickly, white light.