Alrighty then! First fic like this... hope you guys like it! I do not own Jeff The Killer or any of the other Creepy Pastas that show up. so. ya know. now ya know that.
I blinked a few times. This was. Not how the night was supposed to go. I heard the metallic clang of my favorite knife hitting the floor, a few drops of blood flying from it as it came to a rest against the tiles. I tore my eyes from the mutilated body in front of me and looked down at myself. Who knew a human could bleed so damn much? I was going to need to change clothes…
"yes ma'am. Ill be careful." I called to my mother, leaving our new apartment as I made my way to my school. I was a culinary student, at a private arts school. We had moved after my father started getting… obsessive. He was never really a father, more of a sperm donor. But when I had had enough of him, and decided I no longer wanted him in my life, he kind of cracked. I mean, after all, three of his four children (of the ones that I knew about anyway) wanted nothing to do with him, nor did their mothers. He became hard to manage to say the least. So we moved. Far away. Little to no notice to anyone. I hated school. Or rather, I hated the people. I hated people in general actually. So when I saw the news team at one of my classmates apartments on my way to school, I didn't give many fucks. I was going to go about my way until I saw the body being carted down the stoop. She mustve been really torn up. The sheets they had used to cover her lifeless form were soaked through in places with blood. I shrugged an continued on to school.
I waved good bye to my mother as she revved up her black KIA. A few weeks had passed since that schoolmate was murdered, and there had been a few more since then. My mom was nearly a nervous wreck about leaving me by myself, but she needed this vacation. She was always a worry wart and her nerves were always bad. I convinced her to go, for her own good. That and I could go a few weeks without her nagging the shit out of me.
It was around the second night she was gone that I began hearing the strange sounds near my window. I sighed, rolling over and pulling the pillow over my head, trying to ignore the sound. I was extremely paranoid, and sounds in the night always made me nervous. I didn't fear dying, I knew it would happen eventually. I just didn't know how to feel about pain. The sound persisted, and I tried my hardest to think of anything other than some serial rapist trying to break in. Eventually I fell asleep, and awoke to find my window closed, just as I had left it.
About two nights later, however, I was much less lucky. I was watching pirated cartoons on my laptop when I heard the faint eerie creaking of the usually locked window sliding open slowly. I froze, pretending not to hear it. Lucky for me, I am a paranoid wreck on any given night, so I had rehearsed such an event in my head many times before. I heard the heavy, trudging footsteps through my head phones. Geez, whoever this killer-maniac -robber was, he wasn't very stealthy at all. Those combat boots could be heard a mile a way. I struggled to keep my breathing steady, I sat up, my back still to my intruder. Feigned a yawn, pulling my head phones from my ears with one hand as I reached for the army knife my brother had given me, which I kept under my pillow at all times. I heard him breathing behind me, and oh how I prayed that he wasn't too much bigger than me. "go…" he whispered, his voice raspy. I froze, my hand clenched the grip of the knife, "to…" I felt my muscles aching as I tensed, ready to leap into action, "sleep!" he screamed, this rakey raspy sound, leaping towards me. I rolled to the side, snatching my knife from under the pillow and dodging his lunge at me at the same time. His own knife, a fairly well made kitchen knife (I have no idea how I had time to take in his choice of weaponry), tore through my plush pillow, strewing it's stuffing all over the place when he extracted it. His face was pale, exceedingly so in the moonlight streaming through my window, his hair was pitch black and seemed to hang in wild oily strands all over his head, and his face… he was smiling. He had these notably straight teeth, and his cheeks were carved into a permanent smile, from ear to ear. I was. Intrigued to say the very least. "hahahahaha…." He was… laughing? Great to know striking such fear into an innocent teenage girl was such an amusing event! His laugh turned quickly from dark and slow, to this high pitched and hysterical laughter, his cheeks stretching a bit with each laugh. I frowned. "don't come near me." I spoke slowly, thinking he was insane and probably needed time to process each word. "oh, but wheres the fun in that?" he laughed again, stepping off of my bed jerkily. Great… he probably got dirt all over my squishy black comforter… I thought silently, holding my knife before me. His smile dropped for a moment (well as much as it could when it was fucking carved. Into. His face.) then it returned, full force. He came at me with unnatural speed, and suddenly I was slammed against the wall behind me, my knife sliding from my hand as the breath left my lungs. He grinned down at me, his right hand against the wall beside my head, his left still holding the knife, bringing it up to my cheek. I glared at him, and he cackled again. "let me go." I ordered, and he flicked his head, moving some of his black hair out of his face. his eyes had these dark marks around them, like they had been scorched, and I noticed he didn't seem to blink. he brought the knife closer to me, chuckling darkly. I growled, kicking him in his stomach as hard as I could, and it seemed to throw him off. I quickly scrambled to my feet, running over to the door of my bedroom and flinging it open, willing my legs to move even faster as I heard him get up, a low growl emanating from his throat. I managed to get down the stairs before I was yanked by my hair into a wall again, the air leaving my lungs for the second time that night. He tightened his grip on my hair as he glared into my eyes angrily, and I bit my lip to restrain the moan that wanted to escape my lips. "youre… stronger than most others…" he said, a curious tone in his voice as he used the hand still gripping his knife to rub his stomach slowly. Then he lifted the knife to my collar bone. "I'm going to make this one slow…" he said, laughing hysterically again and I clenched my eyes shut. He pressed the blade into my flesh, slowly carving into my skin. My lip quivered as I groaned in pleasure. The cut stopped immediately, and I opened my eyes to see why. He was looking utterly bewildered. "wha…what?" I croaked, my chest heaving, causing blood to trickled down my chest, curving with my cleavage, his hand still buried roughly in my black hair, the red steaks surrounding his fingers like flames. He stared at me for a few more moments, like I was some freak of nature. Then suddenly he released my hair, letting me drop to the floor as he ran into my kitchen, kicking the back door of my apartment open and running off into the night. I sat staring at the open door for a while. The door, the stinging cut along my collar bone, the blood running steadily down to my belly button and the slight stinging of my scalp were my only proof that he'd actually even really been there. I sighed when I finally got up, closing the back door and locking it. "even a murderer thinks I'm a freak."