CRΣΣPΨPΔSTΔ X MΔLΣ!RΣΔDΣR

CRΔZΨ, βUT ΩΠLΨ ҒΩR ΨΩU

Hi there, quick note before I begin this chapter-

I'm really sorry to the requestee that this is a bit late, I had personal matters happen + school. I made it a bit longer and more in depth to compensate.

Also, I will be giving this chapter + the last two different names.

Also also also, the reader is 14 because apparently Jeff's age was changed back to 13 last year so if he aged properly he'd be 14 now so don't come at me.

Hope you enjoy anyway ^^

_________________________________________

Y/N had never exactly been a normal child.

At the age of four, he had been kidnapped and held hostage, but when the captors were eventually caught they seemed terrified.

Apparently the young boy had told them their exact birthdates and then the day each would die.

They each died on those dates, one a year later and one only a month.

When he was eight, Y/N had thrown the family cat out the second story window, to 'See if it could fly'.

When his alarmed parents told him you need wings to fly, he scoffed and walked away.

Now, at the somewhat young age of fourteen, Y/N was still the same boy, with the same Sociopathic tendencies.

He might make it a little hard for the killer who plans to break in.

_________________________________________

Y/N was bored.

His parents had been advised to yet again lock him in his room with only his bed, countless bottles of medication, and a desk with paper and pencil that he would draw disturbing pictures on.

Why you ask?

Because he attacked and killed a bird in the backyard only six hours after being allowed out of his room for the first time in a week.

The boy let out a long sigh.

It was going to be at least another week or more before they let him out to do anything other than go to the bathroom.

It's not like he blamed them, they just wanted to help him. But Y/N knew he could never be helped. His urges to hurt other living beings could never be fixed, only subdued by the generous amount of pills he was forced to take.

Checking the one electronic he was allowed, his digital alarm clock, it read 2:16 AM.

A knock was heard from outside his door, and his mother's sweet voice spoke up aswell.

''Sweetheart? Are you awake? I have leftovers from dinner if you want them.''

Opening the prison style food slot the psychiatrist had ordered put in, she put the dish through.

Y/N went over, taking the nourishment.

''Thank you, mom.''

''You're welcome sweetheart. I love you, I hope you know that.''

''... As do I.''

Y/N sat down on his bed, the plate of food with many others sitting on the floor in a neat pile/stack.

The boy expected this to be yet another boring, quiet night. One where he sat, awake, alert & aware of everything going on, as sleep was something of a myth to him ever since around 2 years ago. If he got more than 3 hours, it was alarming.