It's cold.

Annabeth curled up on the scraggly bed, her body tucked into the drafty corner. Not that there was anywhere in this hell that was truly warm, but the corner took the cake. Honestly, the teen thought in irritation, There has to be some hole in the wall, damn it. It's too cold here.

Unfortunately, it was the farthest place she could be from the asshole that had brought her here.

Jeff the Killer.

He was sprawled rudely all over the bed, snoring loudly, much to Annabeth's vexation. Trying to avoid getting anywhere near him, she pressed herself harder against the wall, studying his still form warily. To her amusement, he was wearing a sleeping mask, as he probably couldn't sleep without it, considering he had no eyelids. Or maybe he didn't need it - maybe it was just for intimidation, because the mask seemed to be personalized to Jeff's preference. Annabeth could only imagine what he did the frequent times he left the room to go do his "hobby", but none of the thoughts were pleasant. Whatever the case, Jeff always came back with a satisfied glint in his eyes, his white hoodie stained with fresh blood after a nice relaxing day of killing people and listening to them scream.

Serves you right, you bastard. Annabeth thought hatefully. She wanted to take his own knife and stab his eyes out, slice him to pieces, slit his throat, anything, but of course he just had to be invulnerable, didn't he?

Damn it all.

With a sigh, the girl averted her eyes from her kidnapper, not wanting to look at him for any longer, and instead studied the dark room. Her eyes had long since adjusted as much as it would to the lack of light, and she could make out most of its features, including a small, creaky shelf in the opposite corner from the bed. On it were several objects, all covered by a dusty black curtain. What were they?

Curious, Annabeth unsteadily got to her feet, careful not to wake Jeff, and tottered over to the shelf, taking a deep breath as she reached it. Did she really want to see what lay beneath the fabric? What if it was dismembered human remains or bleached white bones? What if it was torture devices of all shapes and sizes that Jeff was going to use to painfully kill her with?

Gathering her wits, Annabeth grasped the tarp and lifted it off, squinting her eyes to see discern what she was seeing.

What her brain processed made her freeze.

Pictures.

There were four pictures (one, two, three, four), their frames covered in dust, as well as a crinkled, brittle-looking scrap of paper than contained only three words.

I'm sorry, Liu.

Three words.

Just three words, and yet, even without a voice to speak them, they seemed to be saturated with pain and regret to the very brim.

Did Jeff...?

The thought, to Annabeth, seemed too implausible for words. Was Jeff sorry for killing his brother? Did he regret it? Then why the hell had he killed Liu in the first place, anyway? And how could an insane, maniacal killer like him feel anything like guilt, regret, or remorse, anyway?

Then again, his reaction when she'd brought up Liu...

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Nearly jumping ten feet into the air, Annabeth whipped around. Jeff was sitting up in bed, face mask off and glaring at her with his blue eyes. They searched her face for a moment before trailing over to the shelf and the uncovered pictures. The second he saw them, rage filled his eyes, making Annabeth step back slightly in alarm. However, beneath them was some underlying emotion that vanished into his fury before she had a chance to identify it.

Jeff stood up sharply, stomping over to Annabeth and grabbing her roughly by the arm, so hard that she was afraid her wrist would break straight in half. A hiss escaped her lips as Jeff lowered his head - considerably higher than her own - down to face her, nose to nose. "You shouldn't stick your face where it doesn't belong, doll." he snarled.

For once, Annabeth had no valid argument, because she had been snooping. In normal terms, at least.

But this situation wasn't normal. Jeff had kidnapped her and was holding her in this shithole against her will, for fuck's sake. As far as Annabeth was concerned, if he was angered by her snooping, then she had the right to be going full-blown Rena Ryuugu on his ass.

"Too bad." she spat at him. "You brought me here. You're the one holding me in this damned place. So if you don't like me looking through your stuff that you're hiding like a master criminal," the teen continued sarcastically, "then you can go fuck yourself."

Jeff chuckled, making the girl in his grasp shudder slightly and narrow her gray eyes. "I'll pass on fucking myself, doll. I may fuck something...or someone else pretty soon, though."

The implications crystal clear, Annabeth's eyes snapped fully open in complete revulsion. "Go to hell, you piece of shit." she retorted. "I would rather die than be touched like that by you."

"Always so fiery." the killer smirked. Unexpectedly, he leaned in so their lips were almost touching. His tongue slithered out and mad contact with her cheek, making Annabeth snarl in disgust and shove him away. Or at least, she tried to, but he was far taller than her and built like a damn mountain. Instead of pushing the killer anywhere, she found herself beating his chest with her palms as he looked on, amused.

Little squeaks of rage were escaping Annabeth's lips, making her laugh at her mentally at her own self for sounding so pathetic and helpless. Jeff simply stood and let her continue her charade, his shoulders shaking with laughter at her feeble attempts.

"Jeff."

Both of them stiffened at a voice outside the bedroom door. It was unfamiliar to Annabeth, but Jeff clearly knew it and didn't have the fondest feelings for its owner, considering the irritated groan he let out as he turned away and stomped toward the door. He stopped in front of it and spat out, "The fuck do you want, Masky?"

The girl's eyes widened. Masky. Wasn't he...the head proxy for Slenderman, or some shit like that? Not that Annabeth cared. As long as he stayed away from her, and her friends and family, she didn't have a problem.

"The master wants to see you."

There was palpable defiance in Jeff's voice as he responded. "I'm busy."

A snort from the other side of the door. "You can fuck the girl later. Right now, he wants to see you, and he wants you to bring her."

Something inside Annabeth snapped. She didn't know who this he was, but she didn't care. Masky's lewd comment about Jeff fucking her had already set her off, and now he was saying there was this other asshole, the master, that was probably the worst out of all of them, which was saying a lot, considering she was in a mansion with a bunch of fucked-up-in-the-head psychopaths.

"Excuse me?" she spat, storming over to the door, wrenching Jeff's hand from the knob, and opening it herself. "Wait - " Jeff started, but Annabeth wouldn't have listened anyway.

Standing there was a tall man - not quite as tall as Jeff, but a considerable bit taller than Annabeth, his face covered by a white mask that appeared to have feminize features. Over his muscular torso was a yellow hoodie, which made the girl scoff. Black or red or maybe melancholy blue for my-life-sucks, but yellow? It was the color of happiness, for God's sake, and this man looked anything but happy.

All this flashed through Annabeth's mind before a stream of words bubbled from her mouth against her better judgement. "I don't know who you think you are or who this master holding your leash is, but that piece of shit is not going to be fucking me, ever, and I'm not going anywhere with you."

A snort of amusement came from Masky as he looked down at her. "Frisky, aren't you?"

"Damn straight. I know you killers are used to mortals screaming and begging for their lives, but let me tell it to your face - I'm not going to lower myself and grovel in front of the likes of you."

"Oh?" Annabeth got the feeling Masky was smirking under his mask. "Maybe not us, little girl. But you'll certainly prostrate yourself before the master."

She sneered. "Ever his obedient little lapdogs, aren't you guys?"

Masky's fingers discreetly curved into fists, to Annabeth's surprise. That last insult had been to get under his skin, but had she actually struck a major nerve?

"We're not. His. Lapdogs." Masky spat.

She scoffed derisively. "Right."

Before Masky could reply, someone grabbed Annabeth from behind and yanked her backwards into the room. She didn't have to look to see who it was - it was obviously her knight in shitty armor, Jeff the Killer himself.

Shoving her behind him, Jeff faced Masky. "Fine. Give me five minutes."

His composure regained flawlessly as if it had never broken at all, Masky nodded. "Five minutes." he repeated. "And only five minutes. Any more and I'll barge in and collect her myself, understood?"

Without responding, Jeff slammed the door in Masky's face and turned back to Annabeth, fury glinting in his eyes. "Learn your fucking place here, doll. If you want to survive, you're going to have to practice some manners. I find your little temper cute, but even I have limits. And those other guys? They won't hesitate for a shit's worth to kill you. Painfully. Do you fucking understand?"

Annabeth glared at him. "What the hell is it to you?" she retorted sharply. "You're the one who's kidnapped me and has me locked in here, damn it. It's not like you care about my wellbeing!"

Jeff laughed, the sound raspy and unbalanced. Insane. "Of course fucking not." he said. "The only reason I'm telling you to watch it is because you're mine. You belong to me, so I'm the one, and the only one, who's going to kill you in the end, got it?"

Without responding, Annabeth spun away, not wanting to keep her eyes on the filth any longer. Just how sick was he? Telling her to be careful and not get killed only so that he could get to kill her later himself - what the heck was that? It was bullshit. Utter, complete trash. Then again, what had she expected? He was a killer, after all. Bullshit was probably his specialty.

"Don't. Fucking. Ignore. Me." Jeff's hand shot out to grasp her arm, making Annabeth wince. "Do you understand what I just said, sweetcheeks?"

Jerking back towards him, Annabeth wrenched her arm out of his grasp, ignoring the stinging pain. "Don't touch me." she snapped and turned her back before he could respond. She braced herself for another one of his ridiculously tight arm-squeezing sessions, or maybe a full-blown fit - who knew with this guy - but what he did caught her off guard even more than she'd anticipated.

He did absolutely nothing.

Gritting her teeth as tears stung her eyes, Annabeth found herself thinking of Emily and her father. It had been a week since Jeff had brought her here. How would Emily feel? Did Annabeth's father know of her disappearance? Was it going around the news at this very moment, or already declared unsolvable? She had been taken by the invulnerable Creepypastas, after all, and to top it off, Jeff the Killer. No one wanted to risk their neck for what seemed like a hopeless cause.

"Get dressed."

Annabeth glanced over her shoulder to find Jeff glaring at her. Averting her eyes, she replied sarcastically, "You have any women's clothes lying around in this dump?"

She'd been expecting a no, or maybe another tantrum for her "insolence", but there was only a moment's silence before the swish of fabric was heard, and a few (just imagine them ripped up and dirty) articles of clothing. Annabeth stooped to pick them up and admitted to herself that they would have been quite nice and pricey before getting all stained with grime. She wasn't sure where Jeff had gotten them, as he couldn't just casually stroll into a store, purchase them, and walk out without causing a scene - Hey, I know I'm Jeff the Killer, but can I please buy these clothes? Thank you. She only hoped that they weren't the clothes of some past victim of his.

"Change into these in the bathroom. And move your ass. We have three minutes." Jeff ordered.

For once not arguing, Annabeth stalked sullenly over to the bathroom, opened the door, went inside, closed it, and locked it for extra safety. She didn't trust Jeff.

Once she finished, the teen unlocked the door and stepped out, wishing she had a hair tie. Her blonde hair was an absolute mess - wild, frizzy, tangled, and countless strands hanging in her face. She brushed it back was best as she could.

Jeff smirked as his eyes took her in appreciatively, making Annabeth feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. Maybe she was. "You look hot, babe."

Cringing inwardly, Annabeth ignored the compliment and simply said, "Let's go." She wasn't eager, but whoever this master was didn't seem like the type to be lenient towards disobedience.

Jeff was already at the door, waiting. As she approached, he politely offered his hand. Staring at it, Annabeth realized he'd made the exact same motion when she'd agreed to go with him in exchange for Emily's life. She didn't regret that decision - she just wished the consequences afterwards didn't have to be so dire.

With his hand extended to her, Jeff almost looked like a normal person, a gentleman, if you ignored the cracked, leathery skin, the singed remains of eyelids, the burnt texture of his hair, and that disturbing Cheshire cat grin etched into his face.

Normal...

He once had been. He'd been normal. He'd lived an ordinary life. Those pictures she'd seen proved that he'd had a loving brother - Liu Woods. He'd been just like her.

What could have possibly turned Jeffrey Woods into the monster, the killer, the psychopath he was today?

Done! Phew - this chapter took me a while to write. Again, I apologize for OOC Jeff and probably OOC Masky. The other Creepypastas will probably be OOC too, considering that it's me writing the story.

But thanks for reading, and I'll see you guys again soon!