Killer Romance [Book 1] [Jeff the Killer x Reader] [JTK]

Chapter 22: Dweller (Day 8) Edited

You awoke to a sunny room. There was a single window to your right, and it was blinding you. You covered your eyes with your arm and rolled over.

"You're awake?" you heard a familiar voice ask.

The crook in your neck was killing you, but it was worth it when you saw a figure standing on the opposite end of the room. He was moving around some of the luggage, making a considerable amount of excess noise. Each suitcase had squealing wheels that chimed whenever they spun around their axis more than once, and every handle would stretch the fabric when picked up. It really was unnecessary for him to be displaying them so early.

"Jeff?" you asked, rubbing your eyes.

"What's up?" He smiled casually and moved some hair away from his face. "Want anything for breakfast? I was waiting for you to get up so I could make it."

No matter what he did to you, you couldn't get over the fact that he went to such an extent to make you like him. Ironically forced situations never rang the bell anyways, so it was unclear why he tried so hard. It was creepy. Even then, he was standing by the luggage staring at you while waiting for an answer. The smile never disappeared from his face, regardless of how long you kept him yearning. And here you were, waking up in a hotel room far from home in order to test the one and only person that ever stood up for you.

"I'm not hungry," you mumbled, trying to get his attention off of you. Every misdirect could work in your favor, and you just had to get a glimpse of those suitcases by the wall. He would never shuffle them for no reason. He wasn't the type to do anything for no reason. And that's why you had to figure out the reasoning behind his every move before it was too late for you to do so. God blessed you with some new courage and information that would help you in your drawn-out battle.

"That's fine then! We can just have an early lunch."

"Why are you still waiting there?" you asked.

The look on his face was putrid, and his voice had a neutralized monogram to match. "I'm waiting for you to leave the room so I can finish this. I wouldn't want to trouble you with it."

But you were too curious. And his formal speech made you all the more curiouser. He practically told you that what he was doing was the story of the century, and that any news reporter would kill to know what it was. Why wouldn't you? Could it be possible that he wanted you to question him? What if he was trying to break the barrier once and for all and give up on his plans after an incident? Would he really change his mind that quickly? No. He was testing your strength. So you stood out of bed and started marching towards the pile of luggage trapped behind the body of a man you wish you'd never met.

He blocked you with his arm and questioned, "Why do you have to be like this?"

"Let me see what-"

"No," he chuckled. "Why the hell would I do that?"

You pierced your gaze through his eyes as you confronted his strength and gathered the courage you had bottled up for days. You were getting ready to strike like a snake that's been in captivity longer than it would like, and the mole didn't stand a chance. The serpent believed that its fangs were sharp enough now to kill anything it came across, but it didn't know that the pest didn't have the same outlook. The mole was in a predicament where anything it did wouldn't work in its favor. It believed that it was better off dead than alive. However, it wanted to clear its name before it passed into the afterlife and was born to cause havoc again.

The mole had done so many terrible things during its life that it thought the world was working against it. So when it saw the serpent getting ready to strike, it let it happen, accepting the death it deserved. But the world was also working towards torturing the mole. Because of this, the mole could never really die. The only way to go against fate was to kill it. But fate's puppet strings hung from its fingers so delicately, and the mole was forced to fight back against the serpent, fighting for the survival it didn't deserve.