BlueBird •A Jeff The Killer Fanfic•

Chapter 1

***Hello readers (If I have any)! This is my attempt at a creepypasta fanfic, so please comment your feedback, good or bad! I would really appreciate it!***

Chapter 1

Whenever I get called a freak, you would think I get bothered by it, right? Right. Even though life was hard, it's not like I went through it alone. I had friends. Well a friend. His name is Stevan. He has dark brown hair and bluegreen eyes. He is kind of cute, but my heart belongs to the killers of creepypasta.

"Hey Carla! Wait up!" Stevan yells, trying to catch up to me. I look back and he runs up the school hallway, gaining some stares from other kids, but we ignore them.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Ya know how you read those Creepypasta things?" He says, trying to catch his breath. I'm sure my eyes lit up like Times Square.

"Yes! Yes! What about them?" I ask, tugging on his sleeve.

"Look at this," Stevan hands me a school newspaper.

The headline reads: Group of Teens Missing in Woods

"So what?" I ask. It's not like Creepypastas are real. Are they?

"Read the article."

Three teenagers identified as Alyssa Stryder, Natalie Smith, and Roger Pearce went missing over the weekend after a coming trip in the woods. Police are diligently searching for the teens. They found a body, and suspect it to be Roger. The body was found cut open and missing a kidney.

"Holy crap," I mutter. That's not a coincidence.

"Do you think it was-" Stevan starts, but I cut him off.

"Maybe. Probably, but..." I say. My thoughts wander. I heard Stevan say something, but didn't make out the words. My thoughts were focused on the story. Could it really be him?

Stevan whistles and waves a hand in front of my face, "Earth to Carla!"

Annoyed, I flick his hand away, ignoring his laugh, I ask, "What?"

"I said, do you wanna go check it out later?"

"Are you insane?! First of all, it's probably blocked off, and second of all, he isn't the only killer out there, and personally, I don't want cuts up the sides of my cheek," I say, lowering my voice at the second part. Stevan shrugs. I don't know about his sanity sometimes...

~Later on~

"Hey, freak," one of the football players approaches me. I wasn't doing anything. All I was doing was making a crappy drawing of Eyeless Jack in my notebook. Yet he still taunts me. "Whatcha drawing?"

"Get away," I spat. He snatched my notebook out of my hands. Anger immediately rushes through me as I try to take it back.

"Who's this?" He taunts. "Another one of your imaginary friends?"

"Give. It. Back," I say, giving him a death glare.

"Oh. Little Birdy decides to stand up for herself!" He says, holding my notebook up above my reach. He leans close to me. "Whatcha gonna do?"

I hesitate. I've already been sent to the principal's office twice this year. Three strikes and I'm out. If I get suspended, my parents will kill me. I shoot him another death glare and jump up and try to snatch the notebook out of his hands. He gets on his tiptoes and holds it up even higher.

"You're going to have to try harder than that," he smirks. I hate him. I hate him so much.

"You shouldn't have done that," I hissed and kneed him in the gut. He recoils in pain and I snatch my notebook and run.

"Hey!" He yells after me, but I'm already lost in a crowd. Running into a few people here and there, I rush to a bathroom. Luckily, no one it's there, and I break down, hiding in a stall. I hug my notebook close to my chest and tilt my head up. My eyes spill tears, but my eyes stay closed. I hear the door open and go completely. The last thing I need is a popular girl making fun of me. So what, I hate shopping and normal girl things? I thought I had a right to like what I wanna like and hate what I wanna hate. Apparently not. I quietly calm myself down and get out of the stall. The edges of my eyes are red. I rub them and take one last shaky breath before leaving the bathroom.

The rest of the day went fairly quick. At the end of the day, I was getting the stuff I needed out of my locker. I headed out of the school, and felt like someone was watching me. When I turned around, the football team surrounded me.

"We heard you hurt Jason earlier. You don't just get away with doing something like that to one of us, Little Birdy," one of the players said. Since when was that my nickname? I give them all dirty looks. If they're trying to scare me, they're doing a pathetic job.

"Don't call me that," I said. Why does this always happen to me? Why can't I just be left alone?

"Hey! You don't get to tell us what to do!" Another player shoots back. I glare at him. They won't see a weakness in me.

"Shut up," I say.

"Make me!" The first guy shouts. I backhand him in the jaw as hard as I can. He stumbles back and the rest of the team beats on me, hitting me and pushing me to the floor. I yell for help. The guy I backhanded recovered and kicked my side multiple times. My vision was going blurry when Stevan rushes over.

"Hey! Leave her alone! What did Carla ever do to you?" He shouts.

"None of your business, punk!" one of the guys yells

"What did you do now?" Stevan asks me in am annoyed tone. Every time I get into a fight, he always ends up breaking it up.

"Nothing!" I choke out.

I get kicked again, "Liar!" I cry out in pain.

"I said, leave her alone!" Stevan says through clenched teeth. As soon as physical contact breaks out between the boys, a teacher steps in. Of course, when guys fight, God forbid anyone see, but when a girl is getting beaten up? No one gives a crap. Stevan helps me up. Tears start to form in my eyes. I try to force them back, but one rolls down my face.

My ribs feel like they all broke, which a few might actually be, my jaw refused to move, and I felt blood trickling down my cheek, which meant I probably had a cut there too. Great. My parents are gonna love this story.

"Are you okay?" Stevan asks. I shake my head, hyperventilating. Man this hurts. "Come on, lets get home. We can takes the shortcut through the woods."

***Sorry it was kinda long! I hope you liked it, and doing worry it gets much, much better! Please comment your feedback, good or bad!***