My Killer~{{Jeff the Killer fanfic}}((REWRITING-BUT NOT A COMPLETED BOOK))

Dreams Or Nightmares

          ~~ Quote-on-quote:  " I don't have friends, I only have one.":  W. Sherlock S. H.~~                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mommy...w-what's wrong with daddy?" little 5 year old Emmaline squeaked as she held on tight to her brand new teddy bear she just got for her birthday a few hours before and stared at the scene in utter horror. Her eyes landing on her mother whom(( A/N who or whom???))was holding a knife with slick, red blood sliding off of the cold steel and onto floor, where her father laid with his head decapitated from his body.

Poor little Emmaline, she was just sleeping peacefully in her small room when she heard screaming coming from down the hall, where her parents room laid. Only to find a bloody mess. Something no child, much less a 5 year old child should ever see. Something most people never even dream of seeing.

  "Emmaline~." her mother called as she smirked wickedly and stroked the knife as if it were a living thing with her red hand. "M-mommy? W-what's wrong with d-daddy? He's n-not moving..." the poor child managed to sputter through the lump in her throat. "He's dead. He was evil and he cheated on me. ME! Hahhahahahha, but, look at him now! He looks so pathetic and I look beautiful! BEAUTIFUL!!! Don't you think so too? Emmaline~?"her mother looked at her with mad eyes and a smile so wide that she thought her mothers skin would rip.

  "Y-yes mommy..." Emmaline choked out of fear she would end up the same as her father, or even worse." Y-you look very p-pretty." She faked a smile, big; fat tears running down her doll-like face. " I knew you would think so. We women have a very similar way of thinking. Do you know of what I'm thinking...Right...now?" her mother asked a bit too sweetly as she started walking towards her in her slick red high heels, still petting the bloody knife with the sick grin on her face. Her eyes gleaming as a killer would. A hunter trapping its prey.

"N-no, what a-are you t-thinking?" Her mother just looked at her and then laughed manically. Sounding as if she were going to choke up a lung. As if she were a lunatic that belonged in an asylum which she probably did. She then suddenly stopped and looked at dear little Emmaline dead in her scared and sad, blue eyes and spoke, her voice as cold as ice...

" I'm going to kill you."

  I jerked up, breathing heavily, a coat of sweat slithering down my pale skin. I-it was just a dream....No. It wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare. I took a couple of minutes to calm my breathing to a normal rate and when I finally did, I smiled a fake, small smile, the smile that tries to hide all of my pain underneath, and got up off the floor. You must be wondering 'why am I, a 18 year old girl, sleeping on the ground?'. Well, I do have a 'bed', but I couldn't use it anymore, even if I wanted to. It was basically just a tattered wooden crate, that I got many splinters, sore bones and muscles from when I was younger. I'm too 'tall' to lay on it now, even if I'm just 'round 5'4. Perhaps 3 or maybe even 5, I'm not completely sure. Anyway, so now I just lay on the blue, ripped, tiled floor, with a white tattered shawl thing to at least attempt to give me some warmth and comfort.

My 'room' had black walls, the color of my soul. The paint is chipped and has splotches of my blood on them. And in some places theres carvings of words that were also carved into my skin by my lovely mother. Please note the sarcasm. The words that were carved were things such as

  monster...

mistake...

freak...