The Song of a Killer (Jeff the Killer fanfic)

Chapter 3

I sped home as fast as I could, wondering if anyone had heard any screams or shouting from my house. I half expected the police to be there, but when I arrived, the street and house was just as silent as I had left it. As I pulled into the driveway, Jeff was standing outside the front door, leaning on its frame. I swiftly got out of the car and ran up to him, ushering him inside. He glared at me; I could tell he really disliked being pushed. I shut the door when I finally took my last step inside and looked at Jeff. He had a bored expression on his face, as if none of the events that had passed in the last two hours had happened. "Well, what happens now?" I sighed.

"I kind of cleaned your parents' bedroom, so you wouldn't have to deal with the mess," he grunted, "except for the bodies,"

"Oh, okay," I mumbled, ignoring the last part of his sentence. Jeff went over to the couch and sat on it, then started to fiddle with his knife.

"Melody, I know your sanity snapped earlier," he suddenly sang.

"Did not!" I snapped at him.

He grinned wickedly at me, "Oh, yes, it did. Now, Melody, how did it feel?"

The voices in my head started to shout at me once again, their wickedness consuming my sanity.

"You loved it, Melody."

"It made you stronger, didn't it dear?"

"Melody, don't deny it. You wanted more."

I snapped again and broke into a maniacal laugh. I started advancing toward Jeff to get closer to him.

"Jeff...I loved it, " I stated whimsically as I looked at him with wide eyes. Jeff looked at me and smiled.

"Let me teach you how to control it, so you can stay this way," the man of white whispered.

"Ye-" I choked out. Then I came back to my senses, "N-no!"

"What?"

"I said no, Jeff."

Jeff stood up and glared at me, then took out his knife and pressed it against my neck. I stayed firm as he did so. I was afraid, but hopefully I looked as brave as I was trying to make myself out to be.

"So you dare to defy me? Really, now?" he scoffed.

"Yes."

The crazed man grabbed my arm and pressed the knife a little harder on my throat. "Well, we'll see how that works out," he spat. Then he pushed me backwards with enough force to knock me on the floor and stormed up the stairs. I heard the slam of a door followed by a smack. At last it was silent. I picked myself up off of the floor and hurled myself onto the couch and just lied there. I let the confusion sweep over me as I processed what had happened in the past nine hours. I had gone from another daily fight with my mom to being under the care and control of a murderer. What had happened? Was it because I had wished my parents dead? Well, of course it was! What a dumb question. Then again, why had Jeff come up to my room after I had gotten out of the first argument with my mom this evening? I had expected him to kill me at that moment, but he didn't, and of course when he came back a second time (way before I even had a chance to go to bed), I expected him to just stab me and move on. What irked me the most was his reasoning for not murdering me in the first place. Because I had stood up to him. Had I not stood up to him, would everything be almost normal? I mean, sure I'd be dead, but my parental figures would still be alive and still taking care of my brother. God, what is wrong with me? All of these thoughts kept running through my head as I lied on the couch and eventually I came up with a conclusion. Jeff wanted me for something, otherwise I'd be dead. I remember reading that he kills all of his victims. Not just a few. All.