A N G U I S H ➵ Jeff The Killer x Reader (Dark)

Memory 2

I remember, vividly, the first victim of our small-nit community. The dread; the horror combined into one carousel of grief. My mother was first to go. The first of many, we would all say.

It was a Sunday evening, and like the normalcy of our town, I was watching the local football game on a small television set for the quiet diner I was seated in. I had only been there twenty minutes, until I got the call.
"Hello? Is this Alice? Alice Simons?"

"Uh yes, who is this?" The bittersweet tone should have an indication of the news to come, news that would forever shape the future of this town.

"..I think it would be best if you would come down to the hopsital, Miss." The tone was full of pity, pity I didn't want. Not now, not ever. I didn't bother replying to the suggestion, my heart echoing like a funeral drum inside my chest - lungs caving in to a crippling anxiety. I didn't want to think about what could've happened.

I remember, vividly, entering the zone of the hospital filled with the overwhelming smell of sanitation and death - death that would soon hit closer to home. The receptionist held the same, harrowing ounce of pity as she was left to deliver the news - My mother had been fatally stabbed. There was no way to sugercoat it; no way to deliver it without a large cloud of sadness and grief clouding over my  head like a reaper.

I remember, vividly, catching sight of a figure resembling that of Jeff's waiting outside my mothers hospital room. His figure was hunched and evaporated away from the previous anxiety I remembered him with. He seemed different, changed almost yet somewhat free. No longer caged in the depths of his mind, I supposed.

I approached him nervously, eyeing the new appearance of a white hoodie he seemed to appeal. His face was hidden from view, however, I was still vaguely able to see black locks of hair tucked away from prying eyes.

"Hey Jeff," I started, ignoring the tensing of his posture and brief clench of fists, "What are you doing here?"

His expression was unknown, however I could still tell that he regarded my presence as one that was simply unwanted in this current time, "Checkup." Even his voice had differed from the accident, and I could hardly pick out what was the same since then. Whatever had happened seemed to have deeply affected his state of mind.

"O-oh right, the waiting rooms that way if you're wondering," I stumbled, confusion clouding rationality. If Jeff was here for a check up, why was he sat outside my mothers room?

Jeff seemed to regard my statement for a minute, before he hastily stood up from him seated position and made his way down the hall in the direction I pointed. Strange..

At the time, I didn't really question Jeff's answers, out of pity or sympathy I didn't know, however, soon I would wish I did question Jeff's true motives that evening.

I remember, vividly, arriving home in a completely normal state of mind. Everything was going to be okay - is what I told myself on repeat, my mother was going to be okay, and everything would eventually turn back into the home we all remembered; safe, and of course, boring.

This, of course, was simply a deluded thought we told ourselves to make everything seem all the most easier. Because nothing was okay - and we would all learn that the day after my mother was hospitalized.

When I left her, everything was completely normal, but at the time I had expected to return which sadly, wasn't the case. The day after the accident, my mother had "succumbed to her injuries" And that wasn't the worst of it all - the killer was still on the loose and I was now left with an unbearable loss. Nothing would be the same every again - They all thought everything was completely normal in this town, but this is the exact time I began suspecting that not everything is as normal as people would like to believe. This is only the beginning of the story where hope only seems like an emotion fit for movies. Because hope doesn't save you from the monsters hiding in your closet.

I remember, vivdly, the day of my mothers funeral. The weather was gloomy, as to be expected on the cold temperatures of January. I wasn't really sure what to expect out of the day, really, despite understanding that death happened all the time, it was my first time experiencing it so close to home.

I remember, vivdly, sitting in the uncomfortable seat as my mothers coffin was brought down the narrow aisle that I only ever thought would be used for my wedding day in the very distant future. How wrong I could have been, filled with a deep, ignorant bliss towards the wrong doings of this world.

I sat still the entire ceremony, eyes scanning the expanse of the church when I noticed an unknowing figure sat at the back with their face hidden in plain sight. Curiousity gnawed at my mind, a sin unregretfully present. I watched the unmoving figure, seemingly dead yet fully alive at the same time. I recognized him from somewhere, but where?

The figure was familiar yet unknown to me. My eyes knew who it was, however, my mind was unable to connect the same dots I was able to in the near distant future. After a while, I gave up with my fruitless endeavour and decided to sit into the rest of the ceremony as a deep sadness sat on top of my chest.

I was once told that a loss of a parent could never be fullfilled with evergrowing loss buried within ones heart. At the time, I had never put much thought into it. I had always expected my mother to be there even when she was not. I was an ignorant child, selfish too which never really bothered me until this moment. What was I suppose to do now?

When the ceremony came to a finish, my eyes immediately darted towards the back of the church expectantly but was instead met with an empty seat with a white hoodie taking the place of the person who was once seated there. Familiar yet unknowning.

I didn't put much thought into the strange disappearance, I never really did back then. I was ignorant, and still am to this day.

Despite all the wrong doings of the world, I ignored it all and instead, took to seclusion inside my own mind. Nothing can bother you if you pretend it isnt there. An unhealthy mentality, one would say, however it was this mentality that enabled me to venture through hell and come back out alive.

And hell, despite having a literal meaning, was more-so linked to the boy named Jeff instead of the devil we know today. After all, a wolf is easily able to hide in sheeps clothing given the right motivation under the name of a dark ambition.