You Ruined My Life, Thank You (Jeff The Killer Romance)

Chapter 3

I closed the door behind me. That fucking freaky ass dude. I'm all worked up, I need to calm down. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I ran my fingers through my hair. I decided the best way to forget, was to have something else in my mind.
I set my iPod down on the glass coffee table and walked upstairs. I knocked on the white door that had a black sign on it. The sign had neon green letters that spelled out "CALEB". The door had yellow police tape all over it. This room belonged to my brother. He was only twelve, but he was actually very mature. He had such a dirty mind, I swear, he's like a nineteen year old midget.
I screamed, "Make sure you have pants on! I'm coming in!" I then pushed the door open and walked up to him.
"Caleb. I want to hear one of those scary spaghettis," I nudged his shoulder and he looked at me seriously.
"I swear to god. If you say it wrong one more time, I'm going to punch you in the uterus," he said as he grinned evilly at me. Bring it on, little bitch. I learned some moves from Joi. I will kick his prepubescent ass.
"First of all, you're too much of a pussy. Second," I leaned forward and clutched the collar of his shirt, "I would beat your ass. Third, I would tell mom that you jack off to Katy Perry," I smirked at him. He stared at me wide eyed.
"You wouldn't," he said with fear in his eyes.
"I think I would." I took a step towards the door, threatening him.
He gasped, "Fine! Fine! I'll let you call it whatever you want!" He pleaded, defeat clouding his eyes. Yes! I got him!
"Okay! Story time!" I said happily. I clapped my hands once and I walked over to his closet. I pulled the white door open, casting a shadow on the dark blue wall. I took a step toward the small shelf he had in there and pulled out a brown leather journal. I turned to face him and I tossed it to him.
I walked over to the door and shut it. I turned the white light switch off and walked over to the curtains. I pulled the light blue fabric so that it overlapped the other piece. The room was now dark.
I walked over to his black bunk bed and sat on the bottom bed. He had a green comforter with black stars on it.
He was sitting in a spinney chair. He spun around once and locked his eyes with mine. He insisted that I darken the room every time he reads a story.
"If you piss yourself you owe me twenty dollars," he said and smirked at me. This little bitch is always trying to get money from me. I nodded my head. I guess it seemed fair.
He opened up the journal. On the cover, in sloppy handwriting, was written "Scary Stories". When he had free time, he would search the internet for scary stories. He would write them in this book and tell them to me.
"Alright. I'll read you two," he looked up at me. I nodded.
"The rake." he said in a raspy tone, trying to sound creepy, when in reality it sounded like he choked on some dick last night and had a sore throat.
"In the summer of 2003, people reported sightings of a human-like creature. The sightings all occurred before an unexplained blackout. Little information was left intact about this humanoid animal. Most of the online stories and accounts of the creature, were mysterily destroyed," He looked up at me, to see my reaction. I faked a yawn.
"Do the other story. This one sucks," I said in a whiney tone.
He frowned and turned the page in his book. He quickly smiled again and said "Jeff The Killer."
I thought for a moment before saying, "Nope. That story sounds derpy." He looked at me, with a hurt expression on his face.
"You bitch." he said as he gave me a look like he was going to stab me. I just smiled sweetly.
"Hmph. It's a good story. You should go read it on your computer. I'm sure as hell not gonna tell you," I threw my hands up.
I heard him mumble, "Disrespectful piece of shit."
I leaned down and got really close to his face face.
"I think I just might teach mom how to view Internet search history," I said with poison. I hurried out of his room before he could reply and hurried to my office.
I sat on my black, spinney desk chair and rolled closer to my white computer desk. I had art supplies organized neatly on the desk. I had numerous black cups. One filled with charcoal pencils, one with No. 2 pencils, all of the artistic pencils that one should have. I also had shading tools and vinyl erasers. There was paper in a little wire tray, ready for me to dirty it with pencil strokes.
I reached for the computer mouse and wiggled it, turning on my HP Windows Desktop. I was greeted by a dark purple screen with a white rose in the middle. I typed in my passcode, dankmemes, and clicked on my chrome browser. No way in hell was I going to use Internet Explorer. I could walk all the way around the world before that shit loaded.
I clicked the search bar and typed, "youtube". Once I got to the page of results, I clicked the one on top that read "YouTube.com Broadcast Yourself". I searched "Mr. Creepypasta". I fucking loved his voice. It was heaven. It didn't matter what he was saying, I wanted to hear it.
I saw the one of the videos was about that Jeff The Killer story. I clicked on the video made and I listened intently. Damn, this kid got it bad. When it came to the description of the kid, it made me think about the man at the park.
BOOM! Did you hear that? That was my fucking mind exploding. This guy was Jeff. It clicked. Like a puzzle that only needed one more piece. Fuck. Me and my family are screwed.