Jeff the Killer: Daddy's little Psychopath [📝FINAL CHAPTER COMING SOON📝]

Jeff the Killer: Daddy's little Psychopath

Chapter Two: Common Interests

The weekend soon comes to an end, and it's time for school yet again. Spectra is absent today, leaving me alone to face the wolves of this school. The news got out about what happened with Tanner and that guy from before. Many looks linger my way. It seemed odd without her around. As I stared out the window, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched yet again. This sensation had been haunting me for a while now. I knew trouble was heading my way, but what?

The day dragged on slowly. It felt like it was almost over when a familiar face appeared before me. He approaches me, seeming familiar for some reason, but I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"Are you Tanner's sister?" he asks as he approaches me slowly.

"I wouldn't say sister, but yeah," I reply.

He pushes me up against the wall, smashing my back into the lockers. I swear I heard something break, but I was more focused on the beast before me, gripping my throat. That's when I realized, all too late, just who he was. I can't breathe. I try to pry his hands free, but he's just too strong. I can't breathe! I reach for something, anything. That's when I feel something in my pocket. Everyone gathers around. I can hear a faint scream in the distance, someone telling him to stop. But all they can do is stand there in fear as my body dangles from the ground.

"Tell that brother of yours he's DEAD. Ya' hear me? I don't care who your father is, because of that prick I'm a laughing stock."

"Tell him yourself," I gasp. His grip tightens as my nails penetrate his rough skin. I've lost too much air. I was fading, life was fading. The crowd is filled with blurring faces. That's when it happens. I don't hear him scream, actually, I don't realize any of it until I see the pen plunged into his throat. My reaction is of no help. The same stupid smile is smeared across my face. The blood on my face makes me look even more menacing. I look at him as he struggles on the ground, gasping for air, his blood splurging on the tile floor. Looking at him in such a defenseless state, I couldn't help but feel the urge to laugh. The crowd grows weary of my state of mind as I turn to them, my voice distorted. I could feel my throat swelling.

"All of you. You just sat there and watched. He would have killed me, and all of you just watched? Now, look at him."

I point to his body as he squirms, looking for help from the crowd.

"I'm in a vengeful mood. If you don't want to be another victim of my anger, I suggest you get out of here. Just looking at you people makes me sick."

Like clockwork, they scatter like roaches. The fear I strike in their hearts fills me with excitement. I know I'm going to be in trouble; all I can do is wait for the inevitable. Soon, a teacher hurries to the scene. She covers her hands over her face as she sees the gruesome detail. He lies there, barely holding on to a thread. I'm sent to the office. The blood is still on my hands. When did it happen? I don't recall? They ask for my side of the story. I tell them all that I can. Since the other guy couldn't talk, I find myself trying my best not to laugh or smile. He got what he deserved, nothing more, nothing less. I hope he dies knowing that such a small girl like me was the one to take his life. I'm sent home for the day. Mr. and Mrs. Jones are not pleased with my actions. It's silent; everyone is looking at me. I don't say anything; I can't. But that feeling, seeing the blood pouring from his neck, it excited me. The feeling. Images flash in my mind. I can remember now. All of it. The way he gasps for air. I can feel a wide smirk on my face.

"You think this is funny?" Mrs. Jones says. I don't reply.

"You could have killed that boy!? You better pray they don't press charges against you! You can seriously go to jail. What would make you do such a thing!? Just look at you!"