Vision began to fill itself in, but so did that of thin framed glasses staring back at me.
I jumped up, starring intensely at the scared little man, shrugging, “What the fuck are you doing?” I growled, breathing heavily at the wakeup call.
He raised his hands in defense, “I’m so sorry. I was just coming to check up on you, and you were sleeping with your eyes wide open.”
“Yeah,” I rolled my eyes, “No eyelids. What would you expect?”
“I don’t know,” he pulled up a chair, “I guess I supposed you had developed a layer of skin to cover your eyes as you slept, like a snake.”
“I’m not a snake,” I reminded, leaning against the wall with my legs crisscrossed over each other, facing him.
He nodded, pulling out some notebooks and a pen, “I know, I’m sorry, again,” wow he was nervous, “Do you mind if maybe, we start today? I let my editor know I had a big break and he wants the book out as soon as possible.”
I watched him, not saying anything. Leaning my head back onto the wall, I shrugged, “Fine.”
He smiled, still nervous, “Okay, thank you. So, what questions would you like to start out with?”
I shrugged again, still tired, “I don’t give a shit, just ask whatever you want.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Geez, what a spazz.
“We can start out with some of the things only you would know. I guess we’ll start with the thing you’re most known for; killing.”
I nodded, urging him to continue.
“Why do you do it; why do you kill people?”
I looked at him as though he were an idiot, “Personal entertainment, mostly. Seeing people scream in utter terror, only to whine and beg for their lives as if I really gave a damn, which I don’t, brings a smile to my face. Because you know, the funny thing about murder is that it’s not funny,” I paused as he wrote down my words, a little freaked out, “It’s hilarious.”
He nodded slowly, his skin crawling with nerves, “Uh, okay. Next question,” his voice cracked, “Do you think you’re mentally-ill? People have said you are, for killing people like a game, but what do you think, personally?”
“Personally, huh?” I starred up towards the ceiling briefly, “I’m not insane Chris. I just find joy in other people’s pain…is that so wrong?”
He shrugged a little, still writing, “I think it’s wrong, but you’re not the only person who thinks otherwise. Do you think it’s a lack of conscious?”
I scoffed, “I have a more intact conscious than I’ve ever had. Each time I kill, I add another voice to my head to tell me right from wrong. And 99.9% of the time, stabbing someone in the face is right.”
He wrote that down too like a reporter and although I could tell what I was saying was making him scared for his life; he kept strong, “Okay. If I could go back in time now,” he looked at me, “Is that okay?”
I nodded.
“Alright,” he continued, “If I can go back in time, I’d like to ask about your family. What were they like?”
I thought hard, trying to remember, “I don’t really know,” I answered truthfully, “They were…typical. Which I hated about them.”
“I see,” he nodded, fixing his glasses, “People sometimes question if maybe you had a bad family life. They say that could have led to your, outcome?”
YOU ARE READING
DERANGED (Jeff the Killer P.O.V and Romance)
Fanfic[Sequel to Psychotic] After crashing with the past, Jeff had almost lost sight of his purpose and was inches away from appealing back to his former human conditions. But with no choice but to reject the soul that had deceived and betrayed him, Jeff...
