Randy x Jeff ( Jeff the killer ) ( Randy the bully )

Chaper nine

It's been a couple months...maybe seven at the least? I honestly don't know and could care less. I lost track of time after one week. Where the hell is Jeff? I had some updates on my progress....it's okay. But it's only because Jeff ran away, and he thinks it's because of my "dominance". Yeah, because just anybody can show their so-called dominance to a infamous serial killer who killed hundreds without being caught. Any rational person in this situation would be glad that a serial killer like Jeff is out of their life...so what is wrong with me? Oh yeah, I forgot,...I'm majorly fucked up.

Through these couple of months that passed by, I haven't come out of Jeff's isolated room for two major reasons. I'm scared to death because I got kidnapped by serial killers, and there's really no point going anywhere. Some guys who work for the boss are forced to feed me un-poisoned food, because I'm not allowed to die. Not yet, anyway. Nobody has been looking for him. Not even that scary ass octopus guy. I mean I really don't care about his well being or anything, but still. I would imagine that at least one person would be looking for him. Or at the least contacting him.
There was a loud knock on my door. I ignored it hoping that whoever had a death wish coming to Jeff's room would go away.

"I'm coming in," the voice said. I scattered off the bed and leaned against the door using all of my body weight to keep them out. I heard them grunting in defeat. I smile a little thinking what Jeff would say if he saw me.

"Listen, kid, your progress is falling. Get out, unless you want to end up like Jeffrey," he snapped. I paused. What the fuck did he just say? What the actual fuck did this guy just say? I slammed open the broken door to see a now terrified face with huge brown eyes. It's a different guy since last time.

"Repeat that, I fucking dare you," I whisper in his ear covered with floppy blonde hair. He gulped and his frail body shivered in fear. It's always the weak ones who try to mask their fear. I pushed him down hard against the dusty floor and looked at him, before I did something my "father" would've done. I slammed the door and returned to my isolation letting this guy off easy for using Jeff's name like that.

I snooped around Jeff's room. I opened drawers which held his victims photos. I looked in some bags which had stacks of weapons. You know, the usual. I then got a idea. A stupid idea. An idea that would fuck me up, and I would regret it majorly. I took out his stash of knifes and picked the cleanest and sharpest one. I felt the rush in my body and my brain yelling at me to stop. I walked across the hall to the bathroom. I closed and locked the door. I looked at the cracked mirror at my messy reflection. I kept on seeing short flashes of Jeff. I could hear his voice. His thoughts. His warmth on my ice cold body. I held the knife to my mouth thinking of I should do it or not. I laugh. It feels as if Jeff took over my body. You know how people could feel spirits when they're playing a Ouiji Board? Well, this is what it feels like. A dangerous game.

I held the knife to my face and shook. Tears formed in my eyes. I threw the knife at the wall in anger.

"I'm the weak one," I whimper as I slid against the wall.