Staying Awake (A Jeff The Killer Fanfiction)

Chapter 5

        Seven days. I have been in this damn house for seven days. I am terrified. I have been kidnapped by a famous serial killer who seems to be attempting to become my friend. This is a nightmare. In fact, I keep trying to convince myself that this is all a literal nightmare. A bad dream, nothing more. But every night that I cry myself to sleep, I am reminded of the cold hard reality.

        As I said, Jeff is being scarily friendly. However, when he gets angry, every bit of the past acts of kindness disappear. I forget all of his dumb puns and smirks as he lunges at me with a knife. I no longer beg for my life. Because the life that I am living right now is a disaster. Maybe being killed would be better. When he realizes that I am no longer scared, he loses interest. His crazed eyes return to normal and he walks away, showing a few signs of sadness.

        I would never say that he isn't a bad person. He has killed too many innocent people for me to ever look at his in a positive light. But he does have moments. He leaves at night, that is the only time I can let my guard down. However, some days he sits on the ugly couch with me in such a casual, carefree manner that it's hard for me to remember him dripping with blood. Seeing him come home the next morning reminds me though. I have no form of entertainment. This is a prison with an insane inmate. Sometimes he brings me newspapers to read. There are always articles cut out. I would imagine that they are the ones involving him. Knowing Jeff, his sick mind probably wants to collect all of them as if they're trophies.

        I don't understand what he wants me here for, I really don't. He has no use for me. I am a burden. I'm just a pet that he brings crappy food for every few days. It's 5:30 in the morning, and he'll be home any minute. I will admit that some nights I miss him. No, scratch that, I miss human company. He just so happens to be the closest thing I have to that. I just want to see the sun. I have tried to find his entrance. All I have found are boarded up windows that I can never break through and the stupid front door with the backwards lock. I've tried waiting in certain areas in the morning, seeing if I can catch him coming in, but he always just appears. I heard a slight creak in the floorboards behind the couch, and I turn around, expecting to see the bloody figure standing in the doorway. But he's right behind the couch, within a foot of the back of my head. My heart skipped a beat and I jumped. He wasn't covered in blood. This was definitely unusual. He was spotless. He was wearing a flannel and jeans. An outfit for too casual for someone like him. His dark hair was as clean as it could possibly be. Dead and frizzy, but clean nonetheless. I quickly jumped off of the couch and backed up to the closest wall. I have to be aware of my surroundings, there is no way I can relax around him.

        "Honey, I'm home!" He grinned in a very human way and laughed at his own impression of a normal husband coming home to a normal wife. He plopped down on the couch, a smile still on his face. Let me tell you how weird it is seeing how normal a serial killer is. I'd rather him be bloody and evil and creepy all of the time. I don't want him to feel normal with me.

        "What's up with you?" I mumbled in a somewhat defensive voice.

        "What do you mean?" He looked up at me, confusion in his eyes.

        "You have new clothes. And you're clean."

        "Well, I can't really look like Jeff The Killer when going shopping." He chuckled and shook his head as if it were totally obvious. After a few minutes of silence, he got up and brushed off his jeans. He started walking to the doorway or the room. Right before leaving the room he turned to me, standing up against the wall, holding my breath. "You coming?"

        "Excuse me?" I raised my eyebrows in a puzzled manner. He nodded his head as a gesture to follow him. I hesitantly stumbled forward, nearly tripping over myself.