A sob built in my chest in a hollowness I was beginning to get use to. The man regarded me like a cornered animal; like a woman bordering on the edges of sanity - as if I had made everything up - as if I was a figment of my own hellish thoughts trapped behind an iron door. He attempted to console my thoughts; thoughts that were my own fucked up reality. He had seen the contents of the bag himself, and that did little to ease the concern plastered on his face either, and contents that only urged the shaking of my frame to increase.
"I-Im not crazy! Stop looking at me like I am!" The tears fell like a damn supporting a leak, I allowed the desperation to consume me.
"Ma'am, you need to calm down-"
"Don't fucking tell me to calm down!"
"Alice-"
I screamed in a bundled up frustration, my hands repeatedly pulling my hair in an effortless attemp to prevent the static invading my brain, "Please.. please make it stop, I'm sorry.. I'm sorry."
I felt more like a lifeless corpse than a living person, as if my life force had been all but removed from me without permission. Exhaustion began to coat my actions in a blanket, to the point my struggle slowly faded away into the brink of nothingness. I didn't even fight the paramedics hands as they approached, instead my mind was filled by the battle of static, and with a drowsy eye I slowly allowed myself to be pulled under the waves.
The static was constant - even in my unrestful slumber. The scene played before me like a cinema screen, the area vivid, unavoidable as if this was something I needed to remember. The distinct sound of voices echoed in my head - distorted, broken in a lullaby of mismatched words forming sentences provided to haunt me.
"OncE yoU bEgIn to FaLl iTs iMpoSsIble tO sTop." - the voice was static, unbearably so to the point it was agonizingly painful to listen to. I wanted to ask what the voice was referring to - but honestly, as long as whatever was happening stopped I wasn't bothered.
ALWAYS WATCHES. NO EYES.
My body ached all over, a pain manifesting from my own mental torture - a mental torture that had me question my own sanity. What if the paramedic was right? No, surely not. I saw plain as day what Jeff had done - and what he was capable of as well.
Jump.
Jump? Jump where?
Well, into the rabbit hole, of course.
No.
No?
No.
YOU ARE READING
A N G U I S H ➵ Jeff The Killer x Reader (Dark)
HorrorThere was a time, where everything was normal. Unusual things never happened, so when they did, no one believed it. And as a result, a boy named Jeff suffered the consequences. I was naive enough to believe that everything was going to be okay. That...
