I'll Never Die(JTK Love Story){COMPLETE}

Chapter Three: The First Attempt

     He laid face down in the grass and moss mix that lined the forest floor. His upper body steadily moved up and down as he breathed. He was alive. which was good, but was he okay? Blood stained his hoodie, so badly I could barely see it's original color, which was white. Greasy raven hair as long as my own blonde locks fell around his head in a tangled mess, blocking any view of his face and neck. It smelled of booze, which could be blamed on the open bootle of alcohol laying beside the man. He must be a drunk hobo who got in a fight.
     "Sir?" I say quietly. "Are you okay?"
     No response. Just his steady breathing. Maybe he passed out from blood loss, I should call someone. I pulled out my phone, dialed in nine-one-one, and just as I was about to hit call, the man let out a pain filled groan. My attention then turns away from my phone and to the man instead. He slowly gets to his feet, stumbling a little, then holding a tree with one hand to get up and holding his head with the other hand. I don't say anything.
     While he's covered in blood, I don't see any signs of a wound on him. I try to get a look at his face, but his black hair covers it still. I try to find the courage to ask the man again if he is alright. He hasn't seemed to notice me, or if he has he couldn't care less about my presence. He leans down, still holding onto the tree with one hand, and grabs the bottle, chugging down what is left of the alcohol. I notice something odd when he tosses his head back to drink the liquor. His skin looked like crumbled paper, or maybe dry cracking white paint. It was surely enough to send a chill down my spin.
     After he finished off his bottle, he looks back to the ground, his hair again covering his face. He pulls his arm back, flings the bottle, it passes by me and smashes into a tree. Shocked, a small yelp escaped my mouth. This gained the man's attention, as he began to laugh. His lean body shook with his laughter, his shoulders bouncing. His frame was surprisingly thin, like what you would expect from a teen boy. As he laughter calms, he looks up and I finally get a view of his face.
     I think I felt my heart stop for a moment, before it return to beating but now at a much higher pace. His face, there was no way to describe the fear it caused me. From his face alone, I knew this man was really a monster. My first thought of how to describe it's appearance was The Joker but on crack. Up both checks was slices making a cut in smile, which looked like it was still attempting to heal. His eyes stayed open wide, filled with nothing but insanity, and lined with an ashy brunt black color. His eyes themselves were ice blue, like a huskies, but this man was definitely not any sweet fluffy dog. He was a wild best, a crazy animal, a freak.
     "You know, usually this goes the other way around. The victim wakes up to the killer staring at them, not the killer wakes up to the victim staring at them," The man says. He didn't sound like he was trying to taught me, or even really scare me, more as though he was honestly stating a thought. His voice was low and gruff, and a little gravely.
     I look to my phone, and thinking about calling for help. I know this man can't kill me, and even if he could I couldn't care, but maybe if I just called the cops could get him. He clearly had already been killing others, as he was covered in blood which was now obviously not his own.
     "Tsk, tsk, tsk," The man shook his finger at me. "Now, what good would calling for help be? By the time they got here, you'll be dead. Put the phone away, or this will only hurt more."
     I keep a tight hold on my phone, thumb hovering over the call button. One touch, that's all it would take, but what good would it do? Maybe I could stall him till the cops got hear, after all, he couldn't kill me. But it would still hurt, every bit of it.
     "Stubborn little one, huh?" He teases. "Call them, go ahead, see if they believe you once you describe me. Officer, help help," He mocked in a high pitched tone, "Jeff the Killer is here! Please help! They will hang up on you so fast, girly."
     Jeff the Killer, huh? Is that what he called himself? It almost made me laugh due to how unoriginal it sounded. He took his name, and added "The Killer" and thats it. The man, Jeff, reached into his pocket slowly. He dropped his head just enough to have his bangs cover his eyes, his crazed smile turned to a smile smirk, and he pulled out a knife. Black handle, silver blade, covered in dried blood. He pointed at me.
     "Well, girly? How we gonna do this?" He asks.
     I look to my phone, about to press call, when I feel the knife ram into me. He's only inches from me know, and when I look up our faces are so close that our noses almost touch. He holds the knife in my gut, twist it a little causing me more pain. I want to let out a scream, but nothing comes out. I instead choose to focus on breathing the pain away till I go numb, which I should soon. I've tried many times over, I know what happens. As my body starts to feel numb, Jeff finally pulls the knife out and blood begins to pour. His insane smiles returns, I know he's expecting me to fall dead. I stay standing, glaring at him.
     "Asshole," I groan, my first ever words to him, "You know how hard it is to get blood out of clothes?" Jeff was clearly confused, knowing I should be dead or at least dying. He stuck his knife in me again, and again, and again. Nothing. He goes for my throat, and my mouth fills with blood, but I'm still standing.
     "What the hell?" Jeff growls. He steps back, watching me bleed.
     "Don't.. you.. get it?" I speak as best as I can for having a most of my throat cut. "I.. can't.. die."
     Jeff clearly wasn't happy. He grabbed my shirt and pinned me against a tree, anger danced in his eyes. His body was pressed against mine, his forehead pressed against mine. He held me there for a moment, then dropped me to the ground.
     "I'll be back for you," He mumbled, before walking off. It was dark now, and I soon lost sight of him and he marched away.
     I forced myself to my feet, and stumbled around till I found the dirt road. It was easier from there, back porch lights helped a little bit to finding my way. I climb over the wooden fence, continue stumbling. No lights are on, meaning mom is either asleep or not home. I would have to be as quiet as possible just in case.
    The back door, thankfully, was unlocked. I slide it open and silently as possibly, then shut and locked it behind me. Blood wasn't pouring out anymore, but still dripping enough to hit the floor. I'd have to clean that before mom discovers it. I swipe a bottle of some kind of alcohol from the cabinet, then stumble into the downstairs bathroom and striped off my clothes and examined the wounds. I washed off the blood and started with my neck, using bandaids the pull the slice together. I then wrap an ace bandage around it. I do the same to the wounds on my belly and wrap another ace bandage around them.
     I took the bottle I had taken from my kitchen, open it, and chug down as much as I could. It burned, horribly. Vodka. It didn't help that my throat was still cut, even if I was holding it closed with bandaids. But I still continued to drink, taking the bottle into my bedroom with me. I put on clothes, sweats and a t-shirt, then head back down and clean up all the blood. I make sure to not leave a single drop, or anything that could suggest what had happened tonight. No need to worry my poor mother. Afterwards I take my clothes and hide them in my room, deciding I figure what to do with them in the morning. I head to my room, drink a little more. It wasn't that late, but it was dark out, and I was exhausted. I lay myself in bed and pray in the morning my wounds will be mostly healed. I still had to go to school, unless I faked being sick. It wouldn't hurt if I did. I'll decide in the morning. For now, all I want is sleep. Peaceful sleep. It is the closest to dead I will ever get.