Committed (Jeff the killer fanfic)

Chapter 4

Hey guys! Sorry I haven't been updating the last few days, I don't have very much free time, I have rehearsal every day and ya busy busy schedule.

I'm so happy that all you guys are reading this, and I'm glad u like it and ur eager for the next update, but guys, plz don't nag me to update. I'm not saying anyone has, I'm just trying to prevent it becuz I'm a busy person and I have a life and I'm srry but I can't spend all day on the computer updating for u guys. I'm srry but that's how it is and I'll update when I update, plz just be patient. 

Anyways, here's the next update, I hope u guys like it!

Best wishes, your amazingly awesome author, F.

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I stare at my mirror in horror, my reflection shown upon it with my eyes and mouth wide open.

Jeff the killer is after me. And he's going to take his sweet time with it. Dying is not a problem for me, but I still have a certain feeling of dread upon me. Is he watching me right now?

I continue to stare at my mirror, the blood dried by now, but then a horrible question sneaks itself into my mind.

Who's blood is that?

I think back to the paragraph I recently read, and my heart starts beating a million times faster. Who did Jeff kill?

I slowly walk towards my closed closet, my hand stretched out in front of me to open the handle, while being able to jump back if I have to. I slowly and quietly turn the door knob, and wince when it means a squeaking noise. I stop, and then continue again, and open the door quickly before jumping back to avoid any falling objects or worse.

There's nothing, so I slowly look inside the dark closet, my eyes scanning the corners and the walls.

Nothing.

I breath out a sigh of relief. I hadn't noticed I was holding my breath until now. My shoulders relax a little, but the real predicament still remains. Jeff is after me. And if that's not enough, my sister and my mother are in danger as well, if they aren't already dead. They still haven't returned home.

Suddenly, I hear a dripping sound coming from the bathroom. I think that there's blood dripping from the mirror, but then I remember that it's dry. 

I slowly carry my feet towards the bathroom again, my heart pounding as if it's about to explode out of my chest. I look at the mirror once again and look at the dried blood, but I can still hear the dripping noise. 

I can't locate where the sound is coming from, so I look under the cabinets until I come to the shower curtain. Without thinking, I pull it back and almost throw up my dinner at the even more horrific sight than before. 

My cat, she's hanging by her neck with her insides ripped out, and her blood is dripping on the bottom of the bathtub. Now I most certainly know who's blood Jeff used on my mirror. 

I finally recover, my stomach settling. I turn away from my shower so I don't have to look anymore, my eyes watering, but I don't cry. 

I never really bonded with my cat, and we never liked eachother, but I've always been against animal abuse of any kind. She was so young, only 4 years old. She never deserved to die the way she did. 

I can see how Jeff knew I had a cat. 

Do I run away? I could take my mom and my sister and we could find a new town, a new house and start off new. But it's impossible, unless we want to live on the streets. There's no way we could get another house or even have gas to drive far enough away, my mom is already very tight on money as it is. 

We could do a lockdown on our house but I don't think that'll help much. 

A part of me is excited that Jeff the killer actually thinks I'm cute, but another part of me is constantly telling me to be afraid and to run away. I don't want to run away, or to be afraid, but that's how Jeff works. Whether you want to die or not, whether your scared or not, he'll do things to make you uneasy, throw suprises at you, and make you fully aware that he's watching you.