I think it's time...For you to go to sleep. (Jeff the killer fanfiction)

The beginning

A knock at the door had me to my feet in an instant, I knew something was wrong but couldn't quite figure out what it was...With dreamy, half asleep eyes I unlocked my iphone, revealing the time,  it was a Saturday around 9:30 am so I had wondered why someone would come this early (early for her anyways) I padded my way downstairs gliding my hand along the wooden railing. Dad's coat and work bag was still gone, it had been a week now. He hadn't called recently but me and mum brushed it aside, he was probably too busy to call.

I unlocked the door with a click of the key and opened the door to two police officers, my stomach jumped and heart raced "May we come in?" The male officer coughed softly,  it was close to winter and I could tell they looked cold, a very dull expression on their faces made me worry as I nodded and let them in. from upstairs mum could be heard loudly getting out of bed and opening her door. The police officers took a seat on our sofa as I did on the opposite one, not wanting to confront my mum so easily I let her walk in and find out for herself "oh hi...I've just woken up, what's happened?" Then Olivia saw it my mum's face, pale white.

"Your husband, Robert? I'm sorry to say but...We found him dead at the hotel where he was staying" Me and mum exchanged glances, mum chuckled softly, it was nervous and not at all humourous "this is a joke isn't it?" I on the other hand stayed very quiet in hope that my dad was playing some very sick joke and would pop out at any minute with having the jokes on us kind of face, but it didn't happen.

I had recalled that day in her mind so many times,  the photos of her dead blood stained father, deadly pale, no spirit in his face anymore.

Something happened to my mum too, she had lost some spark in her, that after years she had later regained. And me, nightmares haunted me,  nearly every night. I was 10 when my father was murdered. The nightmares was of a black silhouette standing in the cover of the room, watching her sleep, a knife held firmly in their hands. I would wake up screaming or crying every night, until I was taken to therapy and I met someone.