Carving a Smile (Jeff the Killer x Reader)

Chapter 3

"BEN, YOU MOTHERFUCKER! GIVE ME MY DAMN KNIFE BACK!"

I watched from the couch, trying to contain the laughs that dared to break through my tightly pursed lips. 

I admit, it was fairly funny to watch Jeff the Killer chase BEN Drowned around the living room. While it happened often, and Slenderman gave up on trying to get them to stop, it was still amusing to watch. 

I couldn't help the cackles that slipped out of my mouth. 

"SHUT THE FUCK UP L.J AND FUCKING HELP ME TACKLE THIS LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!" Jeff hollered as BEN dove into the T.V in the nick of time. 

It ended sadly for Jeff. 

"BEN! YOU MOTHER FUCKING BITCH! GIVE ME BACK MY DAMN KNIFE!!!" Jeff hollered as he waved his fist at the blank screen, his lidless eyes wider than normal as he screamed. 

This was entertaining beyond possible, even though this happened often.

I hollered, slapping my knee with my claws as I watched Jeff curse as he waved his arm the TV hysterically. 

Sure it was 3:00 in the morning, but, this was Jeff we were talking about. He doesn't give a shit about other people, neither does everyone else here now that I think about it.

Jeff continued to swear, each one becoming more and more vulgar than the last. 

I waited patiently for Sally to go running to Slenderman, crying because Jeff was swearing.

She's a sweet girl, very sweet, but the cursing reminds her bit of that one son of a dead bitch who was one of the most bitchiest people I have ever known. 
Seriously, he was a bitch. 

Her mother fucking parents didn't do anything about her bitchy uncle either.  

Did I mention he was a bitch?

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With a sigh, I leaned against a bent metal pole with a dead light in it. It occasionally flickered on and off, a weak whirring and spark noise emitting from it. 

The night waned on, the sky speckled with stars and blanketed by dark dust clouds. 

Rain clouds were rare, and so we lapped up every possible drop we could whenever they did come. Well, more like I did. 

I lived alone.

While it was disheartening sometimes to come home and find I couldn't talk to anybody, I found out that keeping a journal helped. 

A lot.

I searched in my satchel for the old leather bound book, and a pen or pencil to write things down. I found I remembered things better if I wrote them down, especially since I wrote in full detail as best as I could. Father did say that the more detailed, the more memorable it'd be later on.

Sighing through my nose, I opened the old, yellowing book and turned to a fresh, blank page. Smoothing it down, I placed the tip of the pen I had found just a few seconds ago in my mouth, thinking of where to start off on my adventure that I had today.

I finally settled on writing about what I had done earlier, taking the life of another survivor. I suppose she's somewhere out there, rotting in the gutters or maybe just another pile unrecognizable bones. 

I wouldn't know. Or perhaps I did know, but I didn't want to admit the truth.
It's better to be a dirty liar than an honest person these days, even it it's gonna get me sent to hell. I already deserve hell. 

Hell would be better than this shithole anyways. 

Finally settling on where to begin with her death, my pen flew over the paper, the ink drying quickly in the heat of the setting sun. 

I had my back facing towards the sunset so I could see what I was writing. It also ensured my face didn't melt off my skull. 

I sighed through my nose when I heard footsteps, and the clank of metal on concrete.

Stuffing the journal and pen away, I prepared to bolt for it. 

¤¤¤ ¤¤¤

Stupid metal cans.

They alerted the woman that's been escaping from us for a few days. She was relaxed earlier, but no, a stupid little mother fucking can decided to go underfoot and crack under my weight.
  
I'm not that heavy am I? 

It doesn't help with the fact that I'm usually cracking and popping my neck, stupid little ticks. The sound of bone hitting bone usually gives me away whenever I'm nervous. 

And damn was I nervous. 

I attempted to still myself to calm my nerves down as I watched the woman look around, her eyes darting around. 
I hoped she'd settle back down against the lamppost, so I could rest a little longer; chasing her was no easy deal. 

Unfortunately she got up, and began a slow jog, slowly increasing her speed. 

Before I knew it, she got away. 

"Shit. Fuck you little lady, fuck you! Now I have to pay for letting you get away!" 

The sound of static echoed behind me, and a looming presence hovered over me. 

Gulping, I pivoted around, my neck snapping and cracking, the bones in my neck and collarbone clashing together. Sweat pooled in my mask, making it stuffier than it already was. 

"You let a simple woman, a mortal, get away?!" 

I flinched, static bouncing around my now numb brain. 

"Why don't I just abandon you right where I found you all those years ago, Toby... give me one good reason why," he growled.

Despite there being a lack of a face, it was clear he was angry. And it was never good when he was angry. 

"S-Sorry! Sir! She's j-just so damn f-fast!" I stuttered, my tics coming faster. 

"I DIDN'T ASK FOR EXCUSES TOBY!"

I cowered, shrinking away from Slenderman's towering form. I just knew that I was either going to die, or be punished severely through torture.

¤¤¤ ¤¤¤

 Night quickly fell upon the scorched earth, the only lights being the distant stars and the occasional weak flicker of a streetlamp.

The sound of feet hitting the cracked earth rang dully in the air, and the light breathes of a woman as she ran across the flatland. 

Her shaven locks bounced lightly as she moved forward, her arms effortlessly keeping her balance. Through what used to be an old farmer's field, she jumped over the small creek bed where water would flow. 

She knew she neared her home, her bunker by the plethora of cacti that caught her source of water. 

They looked and felt like cacti, but they directly fed straight to her base. 

She grinned, and weaved past the cacti.
Skidding to a stop, she stared at the entrance to her bunker. 

Opening the top after turning the old rusty wheel she kept well oiled, she pulled out a spare pistol she found that worked quite well. 

Must've been dropped by another now dead survivor. 

She aimed down into the hole, her nightvison headset illuminating the dark space. 

Seeing nobody, she stepped onto the old, rickety ladder and descended down into the dark.