Creepypasta Boyfriend Scenarios

1.Second Encounter

haha, you guys read jeff's revamped backstory? yeah. that's jeff now lol. new year new him. i might go back and edit his description. also, pretend this didn't come out a decade after the first two. <3 
feel free to comment lol

Eyeless Jack

For weeks after the attack you stayed with a friend's apartment. While there, you hired someone to install better locks on your doors and windows. Eventually, you felt bad enough about stealing their couch for longer than polite and returned home.

Setting you backpack onto the couch you toe off your shoes and locked all three locks on the front door. It felt good to be back in your own home, but uneasiness still lingered in the air. You could remember that burning sensation on your fingers and the thin blade of the scalpel on your throat. With a frustrated sigh you head into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water before cleaning out what spoiled in the fridge.

Heading back out you take the trash bag out to the bin. Behind you the door slowly clicks halfway closed. Without thinking much about it, you continue to the bin and drop the bag in. Letting the lid drop closed you turn back around and make your way inside.

The door didn't close entirely behind you, and let more of the late afternoon draft inside. With a quiet huff you close the door behind you after stepping back inside, locking it again. Returning to the kitchen you start up on the few dishes in the sink.

This place was just as dirty as you left it. And what better way to settle back in and get comfortable again other than tidying up like you normally do? Putting on some music on your phone you set it on the counter as you begin on the dishes. It isn't long before you're finished with a content hum you turn around and pick up your phone.

With still an hour or two of daylight left you decide to pull out the broom. Switching playlists, you grab the broom from the closet and begin in the living room. Halfway through you feel a sudden draft chilling the room. Looking over the curtains of a window sway slowly in the light breeze. Leaning the broom against the wall you make your way over and close it, switching the lock. Weird. You thought you had left it closed. Then again, when you left you were in a hurry.

Turning back around you gasp and flinch back, hitting the windowsill. The masked man stands still with his arms at his side and hood pulled up over his head. Your heart hammers in your chest and your throat constricts. For a few long moments neither of you move. Both of you like deer caught in opposite headlights.

"Who are you?" You manage to choke out, curling your fingers around the windowsill. The man doesn't speak. He simply continues to stare, the small blade in his left hand catching your eyes. "Why are you here?" You knew the probable answer. You got away, he didn't like that. Easy.

Still, the way he just stood there and stared at you, the way he didn't lunge or go for your throat, put you on edge. You would have accepted him immediately lunging, the ensuing fight, the inevitability of your luck running out and you bleeding to death. Now that he had diverted from his approach the first time your mind was scrambled.

He reaches forward and grab you where your shoulder and neck meet. Stiffening, you stumble as he yanks you forward. You land on your knees and try to scramble back to your feet when the sole of his boot meets your back and presses down. Pushing back against it you scowl at the hardwood floor before you feel the thin edge of the blade against the back of your, tracing up into your hair.