He's psychotic, mad in the head, and shivers at the sweet taste of flesh.
All Jeff desired was the perfect kill. A victim to fight back, give him a challenge, and amuse his sick cravings. He found who he was looking for, but was she too feisty, even for his taste? Too accustomed to his being there? When Jeff realizes this, he doesn't know whether to end her or not. The option is tempting, but there's something deeper to this story. Something that prohibits his inner murderer from stabbing her lifeless.
He begins to feel something sick, even sicker than all the blood shed and fear he's caused, the longer he's met with those green, nostalgic eyes.
He begins to remember.
dev sat quietly in her bed. everyone else was asleep, when she heard the window open.
the knife slamed down
but never hit.
her eyes snapped open, as her hand
caught his wrist stopping it.
no human could do that. she looked into the eyes of death, with a chuckle she said:
"think that was going to be easy?"