Please, Kill Me (Jeff the Killer x Reader)

Chapter 21 ✓

The room fell into a heavy, weighted silence after the event earlier with the girl he called 'Nina'. I haven't asked him yet on what is his relationship with that girl, not to mention, how mad  the girl is to me.  However, its been a minute since Jeff hug me and he is still not letting go. For a long, suspended moment, he held me as if he were trying to anchor himself to the earth, his breathing shallow against my neck. I didn't pull away. Instead, I reached up and gently ran my hand through his hair---I honestly don't know why I did that, it's just that something is pulling my hand to caress his hair.. like comforting a child like how my mother does. His hair strands matted with rain and old adrenaline.

"You know, I just remembered that my mom used to sing to me," I whispered. I did not wait for his reply as I began to hum the melody. A soft, haunting tune that seemed to pull the oxygen out of the room. Jeff didn't move, but I felt the tension in his muscles shift.  I am glad he slightly liked it, because for a moment I am worried he might even get irritated.

The quiet and calmness of the night suddenly changed. I was hoping it would last because its the first time I saw Jeff look calm and not eager to make another chaos. Something that he sense made him ripped himself away from me, his head snapping toward the window. His green eyes—wide and unblinking—scanned the dark glass.

"What is it?" I asked, confused.

"Shh!" He lunged forward, pressing his ear to the frame but with a great distance as if he is expecting something.

CRACK.

A gunshot splintered the wood of my bedroom door, the bullet whistling inches from where my head had been a second ago. Jeff tackled me to the floor, his body a shield over mine.

"We’re leaving. Now," he hissed. I immediately agreed because whoever did that---has a weapon and wants us dead.

We scrambled toward the balcony. The police had found us, but they weren't announcing themselves. There were no bullhorns, no demands for surrender. Only the cold, mechanical sound of suppressed gunfire. They didn't want an arrest; they wanted an execution. But isn't that against the law?

"We have to jump," Jeff said, stepping onto the railing.

I looked down at the sheer drop, my knees turning to water. Then, I felt his hand wrap around mine—not a grip of iron, but a squeeze of reassurance. "Trust me."

That made me look at him. It might be funny to give my trust to a killer, but I am already here with him and we bonded for so long now so I did not hesitate anymore. As the tactical team burst through the door, shouting "OPEN FIRE!", Jeff pulled me into his chest and leaped. We plummeted through the night air, the wind screaming in my ears. We hit the safety trampoline the police had set up—likely to catch us alive—but Jeff was faster. Before we could bounce back into their waiting sights, his knife flashed, shredding the fabric. We slipped through the tear and hit the ground running, disappearing into the tree line before the first spotlight could find us.

Minutes later, after that unexpected appearance of the police in my home, the return to the abandoned house felt different. The air was thick with the weight of what had just happened. Jeff marched into the kitchen without a word, his back a rigid wall of anger. I sat at the table, my hands still shaking. They almost killed us.. although I shouldn't be scared dying, right? But what fears me is the reason why?

He returned, sliding a bowl of cereal toward me, making me snapped from zoning out. "Eat."

"Thank you," I murmured. I went to sit in my usual unstable chair, but he stopped me.

"That chair is broken. Sit on the sofa."

I hesitated. "I thought you didn't like me sitting there."

"You already did twice in your first day here." he immediately said which reminded me on how long it is since the day he brought me here. "Do you want to eat or do you want to talk?" he snapped, but he moved over to give me space.

We sat in silence, the only sound the clinking of the spoon against the ceramic bowl as I enjoyed my cereal for a hundredth time. Jeff leaned his head back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. He looked exhausted, the adrenaline finally leaving him. I looked at the bowl, then at him. He looked so human in the dim light.

"Why are you staring?" he asked without moving.

"I... I thought you might be hungry. I left some for you."

"I'm not hungry."

"Ohh.." I set the bowl on the coffee table. The silence stretched between us, and for the first time, it didn't feel dangerous. It felt... honest.

"Hey," he said, his voice low.

"Yeah?"

"I don't even know your name."

I paused, realizing the absurdity of it. I’d almost died for him, and he’d saved my life three times, yet we were strangers. I haven't given my name to him, even though Slenderman knew my name already.. probably he didn't pay attention that day. "It's Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeated, the name sounding strange coming from him. "Whatever happened in that house... the hug... forget it." Somehow, when he said that.. I felt dissapointed. Maybe because that was the only time that felt real between us. His emotions that he kept hiding..

"If that's what you want. But why?"

"JUST—" He exploded, then caught himself, his knuckles turning white. "Just forget it."

"Are you trying to forget something too?" I asked, my voice barely audible. I thought of the photo in the locker. The one that I found in the locked room where he caught me snooping around his house---the other boy in that photo.

"You know, sometimes I wish I could vanish from everyone’s memory. I wish I could forget too. All the pain I caused to others and to myself." I muttered, as I took advantage of this moment, to peel out  my layers and be honest to him. Tell him my inner thoughts that I couldn't done with somebody else. "If I die, I want the pain I caused to everyone die with me, as well. My mom  said to keep moving forwards and you will get stronger every day... but I just feel weaker. Weaker than before. Now look at them, I couldn't save them." I wiped a stray tear, expecting him to scoff. Expecting a word saying, 'you are too dramatic! Grow up!' Instead, he stayed still.

"Before I was this," Jeff began, his voice devoid of its usual rasp, "I was just a kid. I went to school. I played with my brother. He was the strong one. He protected me from the world... and from my own mind."

I turned to look at him. "The person in the photo. That was him?"

"Liu," Jeff whispered. "And I killed him. I killed them all."

He sat up, his eyes suddenly burning with a manic, flickering light. "The bullies... they bleached me. They burned me. They tried to break the 'weak' boy. But look at me, I survived, and I woke up with this face. It was beautiful. Liu look scared at my transformation. I didn't mean.. I--" he stopped as if he is regretting something. Like his mind is all messed up and he can't even comprehend what to say. "No.. no, no. The world is a meat grinder, Y/N." For  a moment, his voice holds his hidden emotions. It cracked  but I can see how he is trying to  bury his tears, his emotions, probbaly thinking its too late to cry it over.

"The strong eat the weak until there’s nothing left. That’s why they have to go. All of them! GO TO SLEEP EVERYONE HAHAHAAH!"He let out a jagged, broken laugh, clutching his head as the madness surged back into his eyes. But as he looked at me, his laughter died in his throat.

His hand reached out, his thumb catching a tear on my cheek. "Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice cracking. "I'm the monster. You should be screaming."